Chapter Twenty #2
Finn wanted to believe him, wanted to accept that someone else was responsible for the chaos spiraling around him. But accepting that meant accepting he was disliked enough, distrusted enough, that someone would actively sabotage Safe Harbor’s interests just to make him fail.
“I can’t think about this right now,” Finn said finally. “I have too much to do. Whether it’s my mistakes or someone else’s actions, I still need to fix everything before delegations start arriving.”
Jericho looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded instead. “Just...be careful. Pay attention to whoever has access to your files and documents. Don’t dismiss this.”
After Jericho left, Finn tried to return to work, but the conversation kept circling through his mind. Sabotage seemed impossible – the kind of dramatic intrigue that happened in novels, not real life.
And yet.
Gordon was right. He didn’t misfile critical documents in closets he’d never visited.
Finn stared at his perfectly organized desk, his color-coded filing system, his meticulous lists. Everything was in its place. Everything accounted for, except for the things that kept going inexplicably wrong.
/~/~/~/~/
Three nights later, Finn worked in his office past midnight.
Darragh had tried to convince him to come to bed to the point where he’d stood in the doorway looking concerned and tired and like he wanted to say something important. But Finn had delegation briefings to finalize, seating arrangements to triple-check, and contingency plans to review.
“Soon,” he’d promised, the same empty word he’d been offering for days, and after a long moment, Darragh had left without arguing.
Finn rubbed his eyes, refocused on the document in front of him. Dietary requirements for the Surmont delegation. Three vegetarians, one who required specific food preparation, and two with severe shellfish allergies. He’d already submitted the list to the kitchen staff, but he wanted to verify…
Movement in the hallway caught his attention.
Finn froze, listening. The castle should have been quiet. Most of the staff had retired for the night, and Darragh would be in bed, hopefully sleeping despite Finn’s absence.
Soft footsteps passed his door, heading toward the records room.
Finn rose carefully, moved to his door, and eased it open just enough to see out. A figure in dark clothing slipped into the records room - the secure space where all summit documentation was stored. The person carried no candle, navigating by moonlight through the windows.
Who would be accessing the summit files at midnight?
Finn waited, heart pounding, pressed against the doorframe. Fifteen minutes passed. Twenty. Then the figure emerged, still moving carefully, quietly, like someone who didn’t want to be discovered. The moonlight caught his face as he turned.
Thomas.
Finn’s stomach dropped to his feet. Thomas, one of Darragh’s most trusted advisers. Thomas, who’d been quietly opposed to Finn’s appointment from the beginning. Thomas, who’d offered to “help” Finn prepare for that disastrous dinner with Count Villiers.
The figure disappeared down the hallway. Finn waited until the footsteps faded completely before slipping out of his office and into the records room.
Everything looked normal at first. Files in their proper places, documents neatly stacked. But Finn knew the layout of the room like the back of his hand. He’d spent hours in that same room organizing summit materials, and he noticed immediately that things had been disturbed.
The drawer containing the delegation arrival schedules sat slightly open. Finn pulled it fully out and checked the contents.
The master timeline was missing.
He searched through adjacent drawers, checked misfiled documents, and looked in all the places something might accidentally end up.
Nothing.
Someone - Thomas - had taken it.
Finn stood in the quiet records room and felt everything crystallize into horrible clarity.
The wine redirected to the wrong entrance. Invitations sent with wrong dates. Furniture specifications altered. His most important file mysteriously relocated to a storage closet he’d never visited. And now Thomas, at midnight, was removing documents from the secure records room.
Not mistakes. Not stress. Not Finn’s incompetence. Sabotage.
Deliberate, calculated sabotage designed to make him fail. To prove he was unsuitable. To demonstrate that Darragh had made a catastrophic error in judgment by marrying a fifth son with no court training instead of someone appropriate.
And it was working. Finn sank into the chair at the records room desk, stared at the open drawer where the timeline should have been. In six days, delegations would start arriving.
In eight days, Queen Valdis would descend on the castle with her elaborate requirements and an apparently critical eye. Jericho had a dozen terrifying stories about her.
In ten days, the summit would begin, and Safe Harbor’s entire economic future would depend on presenting a sophisticated, competent face to the world. A face that Finn had been systematically prevented from preparing.
I should tell Darragh.
But what proof did he have? He’d seen Thomas leaving the records room late at night.
Big deal. Thomas could claim he was doing additional preparation, or double-checking details.
The timeline would probably reappear somewhere embarrassing, making Finn look careless again.
And even if they believed him about the sabotage, it didn’t change the fundamental problem: Finn still wasn’t qualified for this position.
Thomas’s interference had just revealed that truth faster.
Unless…
Finn stood slowly, an idea forming. If Thomas wanted to prove Finn incompetent, Finn would have to prove otherwise. He would have to execute the summit so flawlessly that no amount of sabotage could undermine it.
He’d been trying to become someone else, someone polished and diplomatic. Maybe that had been the wrong approach all along. Maybe it was time to stop performing and start building.
Because that’s what Finn actually knew how to do - not navigate elaborate court protocols or remember everyone’s proper forms of address, but solve practical problems. Organize complex projects. Build something functional from chaotic pieces.
The summit wasn’t really any different from renovating Winrone’s village hall or coordinating the harvest. It was a different scale, and higher stakes, but the fundamental challenge remained the same. Just a lot of moving pieces that needed to work together smoothly.
And if Thomas wanted to keep sabotaging him, fine. Finn would build systems so robust that sabotage couldn’t break them.
He returned to his office with new purpose.
The timeline was missing? He’d recreate it from source documents and distribute copies to every department.
Files going missing? He’d create backups and store them in multiple locations.
Instructions being altered? He’d personally deliver every critical communication and confirm receipt.
Thomas wanted to prove Finn didn’t belong in this world.
Finn would prove that his world - the practical, honest, build-it-yourself world - had value, too.
Fueled with anger, Finn worked until dawn, creating redundancies, backup plans, and verification systems. When Gordon arrived at six, Finn had a new organizational framework ready to implement.
“Your Grace, have you slept?”
“No time.” Finn handed him a stack of documents. “We’re changing how we handle summit logistics. I need you to distribute these new procedures to all department heads. Everything gets confirmed in writing. Everything gets backed up. Nothing moves forward without verification.”
Gordon scanned the documents, understanding dawning in his expression. “You know something.”
“I know someone’s been making my job harder. So I’m making their job harder right back.”
For the first time in weeks, Finn felt something besides anxiety and self-doubt. He felt determined.