Chapter 53
Eric had survived.
Not because anyone wished him to.
The physicians had stitched his wounds and stopped the bleeding for one reason alone—Duke Owen wanted answers.
Dead men buried the truth.
Living men confessed.
Eric lay motionless on the narrow bed inside the heavily guarded infirmary, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and even as he feigned sleep.
Every breath was calculated.
Every muscle remained perfectly still.
But beneath the blanket, his body trembled.
Panic clawed relentlessly at his mind.
His son.
Everything had begun because of his son.
Two years earlier, the boy had fallen gravely ill.
A fever had consumed him day and night. No matter how tightly Eric held him or how desperately his wife prayed, the child's condition worsened with each passing hour. The physicians shook their heads. The herbalists offered false hope. Every door Eric knocked on ended with the same answer.
"I'm sorry."
At the time, Duke Owen had been stationed along the northern border, leading the kingdom's forces.
The Duchess had only recently begun learning the responsibilities of managing the duchy.
And Lady Aurora...
Eric's jaw tightened.
Back then, everyone believed the young lady cared for nothing except the Crown Prince's attention. She spent every banquet following him, every gathering hoping for a glance, every whispered conversation feeding the same story.
No one imagined she would one day become the woman she was now.
Least of all Eric.
Desperate to save his son, he had exhausted every coin he owned.
Then Lord Bracken appeared.
Like salvation.
Or perhaps...
The devil wearing a gentleman's smile.
Without hesitation, Lord Bracken paid for one of the kingdom's finest physicians.
The treatment worked.
Eric would never forget the moment his son's fever finally broke.
Nor the overwhelming relief when the little boy opened his eyes and whispered,
"Father..."
It felt like a miracle.
Miracles, however...
Always demanded payment.
Lord Bracken came to collect not long afterward.
At first, the requests seemed insignificant.
A shipment delayed.
A ledger misplaced.
A storehouse left unlocked.
Small favors.
Harmless, he convinced himself.
No one would suffer.
But each favor led to another.
Then another.
The missing supplies became wagons.
The missing wagons became gold.
The gold became information.
And before Eric realized what was happening...
He was helping strip the Duchy of Ambrose from within.
Piece by piece.
Year after year.
Lord Bracken hadn't merely bought Eric's loyalty.
He had chained him with gratitude.
And those chains had become impossible to break.
Eric's fingers curled tightly beneath the blanket.
Now everything was collapsing.
The former Head Maid was dead.
The former Head Cook was dead.
Others who had worked with Bracken had vanished without a trace.
Not dismissed.
Not imprisoned.
Gone.
As though they had never existed.
His breathing quickened.
Then came the memory that refused to leave him.
Lady Aurora.
The dagger.
The blood.
His stomach twisted violently.
He had stolen.
He had lied.
He had betrayed the very family that had fed his own for generations.
But murder...
He had never agreed to murder.
Never.
Yet innocent blood had been spilled because of the path he had chosen.
Duke Owen had nearly died.
Lady Aurora had nearly died.
And now...
The Duke had returned.
Eric swallowed hard.
More than prison...
More than execution...
It was Duke Owen Ambrose who terrified him.
The Duke was known throughout the kingdom as a just man.
But everyone also knew one thing.
If anyone threatened his family...
Mercy ceased to exist.
A floorboard creaked outside the room.
Eric's entire body went rigid.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Each one echoed through the corridor like the ticking of an executioner's clock.
His heartbeat pounded painfully against his ribs.
Closer.
Closer.
Until...
The footsteps stopped outside his door.
Silence.
A long...
Oppressive...
Silence.
Eric fought every instinct screaming at him to open his eyes.
Then...
The door handle turned.
Slowly.
The hinges groaned as the door opened.
Still...
No one spoke.
He could feel it.
Someone was standing just inside the room.
Watching him.
Waiting.
His palms became slick with sweat beneath the blanket.
Who was it?
The Duke?
One of his knights?
Or...
Had Lord Bracken sent someone to ensure he would never speak?
A cold shiver crawled down Eric's spine.
For the first time since his arrest, he understood the impossible position he was in.
If he confessed...
Lord Bracken would hunt down his wife and son before the week was over.
If he remained silent...
Duke Owen would ensure he paid for every life that had been endangered.
There was no escape.
No bargain left to make.
No one left to save him.
Caught between two men far more powerful than himself...
Eric finally understood the truth.
He was already a dead man.
His heart simply hadn't realized it yet.
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