Her Gilded Revenge For Stolen Fate novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

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Matthew was Flora’s firstborn. Nothing could break that bond. His blood finally made the medicine work. Not long after Flora drank it, her eyes fluttered open.

Celia gasped and rushed to the bedside, throwing herself into Flora’s arms like a frightened child. She clung to Flora’s shoulders, tears streaming down her face.

Even Simon, who was only seven, was crying so hard that he started hiccupping.

Heart aching, Flora pulled both of them close and soothed them in a voice still rough from weakness.

Vivian watched it all play out, her gaze cool and detached. There was not a flicker of emotion in her eyes.

The System, thinking she might be hurting, quietly said, “Host, Flora is only this warm to Celia because she believes Celia is her own. Once the truth comes out, everything will fall into place.”

“You think so?” Vivian smiled, unconvinced. In her previous life, she hadn’t made it past nineteen. If she didn’t make every moment of these three years count, there’d be no “future” to speak of.

The memory of having her heart cut open and her blood drained was seared into her. Compared to a mother’s love, survival and living well came first.

Even with the medicine, Flora needed a full two months of rest. It wasn’t till autumn arrived that her health slowly returned.

Lately, Vivian had buried herself in work, pouring her energy into running the silk shop.

One morning, just as Vivian was about to leave with Judith, Desmond hurried over and stopped her. “Lady Vivian, His Grace requests your presence in the study.”

Vivian was surprised. Even though Flora had entered her name into the family register, making her a legitimate daughter on paper, Quentin had always kept his distance.

To him, Vivian, with her ruined face, was little more than a pawn that had lost its value. He didn’t bother to play nice. So this summons was definitely out of the ordinary.

Desmond, eager to stay in her good graces, leaned in and whispered, “They caught the man from your sketch.”

Vivian’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected Quentin to actually pull it off. She followed Desmond straight to the study.

Pushing the door open, she saw Matthew and Celia already inside, with Beatrice and Quentin seated in their carved chairs. Kneeling in front of them, tightly bound with rope, was Dylan.

“Grandmother, Father, Matthew, Celia,” Vivian greeted each with a slight bow, her eyes lingering on Dylan. He would be the future Commander of the Imperial Guard. While here he was, all messed up and defeated.

In Vivian’s previous life, with Celia’s backing, Dylan had been handpicked by Xavier and climbed step by step to that powerful position, his hands stained with blood. But that path was closed to him now.

“Vivian,” Quentin began, “can you identify this man? Is he the thief who disguised himself as a coachman and sneaked into the inner quarters?”

Celia’s voice trembled as she softly spoke up, “Vivian, be careful. Letting a guilty man go is one thing, but accusing an innocent person is much worse.”

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Everyone in Aurea Manor knew that Celia had a reputation for saint–like compassion, so no one batted an eye at her words.

Vivian ignored Celia completely. She stepped forward and looked Dylan over carefully. After a moment, she said, “Father. he’s the one. The man who posed as the coachman.”

Celia’s hands clenched into fists inside her sleeves. She didn’t dare speak or even look at Dylan. She was afraid that Beatrice would notice.

Dylan’s eyes darkened all at once. He knew that Celia had abandoned him. A wave of hopelessness crashed over him.

“Even if he’s a thief, we can’t just rough him up ourselves,” Vivian said, frowning as if genuinely troubled.

Then she added, “Why not hand him over to the magistrates? Someone bold enough to sneak into the inner quarters probably has a record. Let the officials dig into his past and deal with him as they see fit.”

Celia looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her tongue. Vivian caught the look and let out a low chuckle.

Beatrice didn’t want any more trouble. She waved a hand, cutting the discussion short. “Just do as Vivian suggests.”

Quentin respected Beatrice deeply, so he nodded without hesitation,

The servants dragged Dylan off to the magistrates.

Turned out, Dylan had been a beggar on the run. He’d once beaten a man so badly that it cost him his life. To avoid execution, he’d hidden in the shadows until Celia found him.

Now the

old

the journ had caught up with him. The court sentenced Dylan to eighty lashes and exile. He’d be lucky to survive

The System’s voice chimed in. [Celia Snyder’s Fortune Points: 79.]

Ever since Vivian took back one of the Golden Plumes, their Fortune Points had been stuck. Now, for the first time in ages, the number had dropped. Clearly, Dylan meant a lot to Celia. Losing him had hit her hard.

41%

“Host,” the System said, soundi

almost relieved, “Dylan handled all of Celia’s dirty work in the shadows. He’s the one who helped her keep up that sweet, fragile act. With him gone, she’s lost her right–hand man. Scheming won’t come so easily

now.”

Vivian wasn’t convinced. “Celia’s luck is unreal. Dylan was just a tool. If one blade goes dull, she’ll find another. We can’t let our guard down.”

*****

Three days later, Consort Daphne invited Flora and her two daughters to the palace. Flora was eight years older than Daphne and had practically raised her. Their bond ran deep.

When Daphne heard how close Flora had come to dying from blood loss, she’d been frantic, pacing her chambers, desperate to rush to Aurea Manor herself||

But palace rules were strict. Daphne couldn’t just well enough to visit.

1. ve. All she could do was wait, anxiety bottled up inside, until Flora was

“Flora, I’m so glad you’re alright,” Daphne said, voice thick with emotion. She wore a vibrant red palace gown, and her features mirrored Flora’s. She was beautiful and dignified. No wonder she’d been the king’s favorite for years.

Daphne dismissed her attendants, and then stepped forward and gripped Flora’s hands. “You’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine now, Your Highness. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” Flora replied, still treating Daphne like a little sister. She tapped Daphne’s nose playfully, her gaze full of affection.

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Then, Flora motioned Vivian forward. She introduced, “This is Vivian, Sylvia’s daughter. I’ve taken her as my own. From now on, she and Celia are sisters,”

Daphne gave a noncommittal “Hm.” She’d always known about Vivian, but she’d never had any interest in daughters born to concubines.

Sylvia might act sweet and obedient, but in Daphne’s book, the quiet ones were often the most dangerous. If Sylvia were truly honest, she wouldn’t have become a mistress or used her daughter’s birth to weasel her way back into Aurea Manor as a concubine.

Daphne really wanted to warn Flora to keep an eye on Sylvia. But Flora refused to listen and she was convinced that Sylvia was good, with no hidden motives.

That was bad enough, but now Flora was claiming Sylvia’s daughter as her own. Daphne thought that Flora was out of her mind.

Still, Vivian had saved Nicholas and Edward. The king himself had praised her courage. She’d even become friends with

Gloria.

With all that, Daphne couldn’t really say much out loud. But in her heart, there was no way she was accepting Vivian as her

niece.