Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 167: Fire

Chapter 167: Fire

Scarlet had barely lifted the soaked hem of her skirt when Edgar’s disapproving voice rang through the corridor.

"Miss Scarlet," he said sharply, "how many times must we remind you not to carry the trays yourself?"

Scarlet flinched, the metal clatter of the spilled teacups still echoing in the silence. Her lips parted, but no words came only a nervous squeak as she dropped to her knees and tried to gather the broken pieces.

Liora stood a few feet away, stunned not by the mess, but by the way the air shifted tense, quiet, dangerous. She could sense him before she saw him.

Lucien.

He emerged from the hallway behind them, not in the ornate robes he wore for court appearances, but in dark, pared-down attire sleeves rolled, sword strapped to his hip. His boots halted inches from the spilled tea, steam still curling from the cracked porcelain.

His gaze, steel-gray and unreadable, passed over the mess, the girl, and then landed squarely on Liora.

She stiffened, uncertain. Was this her fault somehow?

But then, softly, dangerously calm, he spoke.

"Was anyone hurt?"

Scarlet shook her head rapidly, eyes wide.

"No, Your Grace," she stammered. "It...it slipped. I was only trying to bring it quickly. She looked cold and...."

Lucien held up a hand, silencing her. Not harshly just... decisively.

Then his eyes drifted to Edgar. "And you," he said, voice now dipped in frost. "Is scolding a servant in front of her lady how things are done in this house now?"

Edgar paled but bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect to the young miss."

Lucien’s silence stretched dangerously long.

Then: "Clean this," he said, glancing toward one of the other guards. "And fetch another tray. Scarlet, go with her."

Scarlet blinked. "But I...."

"You’re shaking," Lucien said without looking at her. "Don’t drop another."

The girl flushed crimson and scrambled up, tripping slightly over her skirts before darting off with the other servant.

Liora watched it all unfold, throat tight. There was something so... controlled in Lucien’s fury. Like a storm locked in a bottle.

And yet, just before he turned to leave, his eyes brushed hers again quietly checking, assessing.

"You’re cold?" he asked.

She hesitated. "...It’s nothing."

Lucien didn’t press. Instead, he turned his back to her and muttered, "Then come. If you’re well enough to stand here watching servants flail, you’re well enough to walk."

"Walk where?" she asked warily.

"To the west wing," he said, already disappearing around the corner. "There’s something you need to see."

And somehow, Liora knew this wasn’t just about wings of a house

It was about secrets.

And doors that had stayed shut for far too long.

The west wing of the estate was colder.

Not from lack of warmth, but absence. It had the feeling of a place left untouched not neglected, just... preserved. The scent was different too less like incense and oils, more like metal, dust, and old secrets.

Lucien didn’t speak as they walked. His strides were steady, hands clasped behind his back, the sword at his hip shifting with each motion. Liora followed closely, her slippers muffled on the stone floor, her eyes scanning the portraits on the walls each face carved by shadow and time.

At the end of the corridor, he paused before a tall, arched door. Iron-bound, aged, and locked.

With a single key he drew from his coat, he opened it.

Inside: a study. But unlike the ones she’d seen before, this room breathed history. Books, maps, sealed scrolls. Weapons displayed not for vanity but purpose. The hearth was unlit, but she could feel the power in the room like a pulse.

Lucien didn’t gesture for her to sit. He didn’t even turn around. He walked to a high desk in the corner, unlatched a drawer, and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment.

Then he spoke.

"Two years ago, your father requested an audience with the palace." His tone was razor-flat.

Liora’s breath caught. "My father?"

"He came bearing evidence," Lucien continued, unfolding the parchment, "regarding the embezzlement of border defense funds. He claimed the royal guards under Prince Kael were stealing grain meant for winter deployment."

Her eyes widened. "I... I didn’t know this."

"No. Because he never left the city alive."

Lucien turned now, eyes pinning her in place.

"He was poisoned the night after the petition was denied. The documents went missing. The man who accompanied him vanished without a trace."

Liora staggered back a step. "You think... someone in the palace—?"

"I know someone in the palace," Lucien said, dropping the parchment on the desk between them, "had reason to silence him."

She stepped closer. Her fingers hovered over the edge of the paper, then froze.

"Why show me this now?" she asked quietly. "What do you want from me?"

Lucien studied her face for a moment. Then, a whisper of something passed through his expression—not quite pity. Not quite anger. Maybe grief.

"I want you to stop thinking you were sent here because you were unwanted," he said. "You were sent here to be buried."

Liora’s throat tightened.

"And I intend," Lucien said, "to dig up every inch of the grave they prepared for you."

Liora didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Her fingers finally touched the parchment, trembling as she opened it fully. Her father’s handwriting stared back at her slanted, precise, unmistakable. But this wasn’t just a petition. It was a ledger. Names. Dates. Quantities of missing supplies. Royal signatures. Some crossed out. Some falsified.

"This... this is real," she whispered.

Lucien didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

She looked up at him. "Why are you showing me this now?"

"Because you’re not just some abandoned daughter of a minor house, Liora." His voice was low, edged with fire. "You’re the daughter of the man who tried to bring down the entire chain of corruption that shielded Prince Kael. And they killed him for it."

Her breath caught. "Kael...?"

Lucien’s mouth twisted. "My brother. The perfect son. The one who wears a crown of polished lies while I was banished for his crimes."

His fingers curled slightly, resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I thought your father acted alone. Until I found that." He gestured toward a second, smaller scroll lying tucked beside the ledger. Liora opened it and there, scribbled in the margins, was her own name.

"If anything happens to us, protect Liora. She is just a child she knows nothing. Do not let them find her."

Her knees nearly buckled.

"I never knew," she whispered. "They told me it was illness. Then later, they stopped speaking of him at all. My aunt..."

Lucien’s voice cut in, hard and quiet. "Your aunt knew."

The room spun. A sick kind of clarity struck her like a slap...how Evelyne had always avoided her questions. The constant coldness. The urgency to be rid of her.

Lucien’s eyes never left her.

"I need you to understand, Liora," he said. "You were sent to me not just to humiliate me but to silence you, too. What better way to erase a threat than to bury her in disgrace next to a fallen prince?"

Liora’s hands trembled as she clutched the documents.

"They will come for me," she said, voice barely audible.

Lucien nodded. "They already are."

And then...the moment cracked.

A knock. It was Light and Hesitant.

Scarlet’s voice drifted in from the hall. "My lady? The tea is ready... is everything alright in there?"

Lucien’s face darkened. Liora quickly crossed the room and opened the door a sliver.

Scarlet stood there, fidgeting with the tray, trying not to peer in, but her eyes widened just a bit at the sight of the documents on the desk.

It was too late.

Lucien stepped forward and gently pushed the door open wider.

Scarlet instantly dropped to a curtsy, eyes wide. "F-forgive me, Your Grace, I didn’t mean to interrupt..."

"You didn’t," Lucien said. "But now you’ve seen."

Liora’s heart jumped. "Wait...she’s harmless. She’s just trying to help..."

"I know," Lucien replied, gaze still on Scarlet. "Which is why she can’t leave the estate anymore."

Scarlet blinked, confused. "I... what?"

"You’ll stay within the grounds," he said coolly. "For your safety. And ours."

Scarlet looked helplessly at Liora, but Liora only stepped forward and took the tray from her shaking hands.

"She’s not a threat," Liora said firmly. "And she has no one outside these walls."

Lucien held Liora’s gaze for a moment... and then gave a slow nod.

"Then she stays," he said. "But if anyone approaches her friend, bird, or beast...I’ll know."

Scarlet let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "Th-thank you, Your Grace."

Lucien turned, heading back into the room. "No need for thanks. Just don’t drop the damn tea next time."

The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

And Liora stood there in the hall, her heart pounding, the weight of her father’s truth in one hand, and the fragile future of the girl beside her in the other.