Her Gilded Revenge For Stolen Fate novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

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Vivian returned to her room and went straight for the Manual of Agriculture. She was searching for that trick Celia had used in their previous life..

If she remembered correctly, getting the Silvermoon Twinbloom to bloom had something to do with a common, plain- looking weed. The memories were hazy, though, and the name of the plant escaped her for a moment.

She didn’t panic. Settling at her desk under the flickering candlelight, she methodically turned the pages, her eyes scanning each line. Finally, she found it, her eyes lit up.

The manual stated: Crush Wild Mustard, steep it in strong liquor, and let it ferment for several days. The resulting mixture could accelerate the growth of flowers and plants.

The System asked, its tone buzzing with curiosity, “Now that you’ve unlocked the secret of the Silvermoon Twinbloom, what’s the plan?

“Will you go the Celia route? Use it before the Festival of Fortune to make your name, and maybe catch the Queen Mother’s attention? Or are we just burning this manual?”

“The Manual of Agriculture is a relic from the previous dynasty,” Vivian mused aloud. “So all the other farming methods are standard knowledge among our officials by now.

“The only truly unique thing in it is that plant–growth formula. Honestly, there’s no real reason to keep it. But…”

“But what?” the System pressed.

Vivian’s fingers brushed the yellowed page, her expression turning cool. Celia was never one to back down. Blessed by Fortune, she would use every dirty trick imaginable to get this manual. Holding onto it was just inviting trouble.

But burning it outright? That was too obvious. It would give Celia the perfect excuse to make a scene. Celia was always waiting for a misstep, patient and predatory. Vivian had to be smarter than that.

“The binding’s loose, and the pages aren’t numbered,” she said quietly to the System, her plan falling into place. “If I carefully remove just the page with the formula, no one will ever know it’s missing.”

Without another thought, Vivian took her dagger and neatly split the book’s binding. She slipped the crucial page free, and then turned to Judith.

“Bring me a copper basin and some charcoal,” she instructed. “Make sure people see you carrying the charcoal. Then, quietly, bring me some glue.”

Judith was loyal and tight–lipped. She nodded and slipped out of the room.

She returned shortly with the copper basin. A small jar of glue was hidden in her sleeve.

Vivian meticulously reassembled the Manual of Agriculture. She held the spine near the fire to soften the adhesive and smooth any evidence of tampering before placing the book back in her wooden chest.

Then, she strode to the windows and doors, throwing them wide open. The draft swept through the room, clearing the air and leaving her actions perfectly visible to any curious eyes outside.

With a martial artist’s sharp awareness, Judith leaned in close. “My lady,” she murmured. “There’s a maid in the northwest corner. She’s watching.”

the

“Let her,” Vivian replied. She took the tongs and stirred the glowing coals. Then, with a sharp, deliberate rip, she tore the small book in two along its spine.

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One by one, she fed the pages into the basin. The flames eagerly consumed the paper, leaving only dark ash behind.

The maid stood frozen, broom in hand, for what felt like an eternity. When she finally came to her senses, she scrambled away, no doubt rushing off to tattle.

Vivian was sure Sylvia and Celia wouldn’t dare come in person. But even if they did, it no longer mattered. She’d taken care to burn the page with the Silvermoon Twinbloom formula first. The rest of the booklet was just common poetry.

But to the watching maid, it would have looked like the whole Manual of Agriculture turning to ash.

Vivian was done being Celia’s stepping stone. Her identity, her fate, none of it was ever meant for Celia to take.

Celia was seething in her room. When the maid delivered the news, her vision blurred. She nearly fainted on the spot. ‘How dare she? She knows how much I want that Manual.‘

She clenched her jaw, biting down on her tongue until the sharp pain cleared her head. If she stormed over now to stop her, not only would she fail to get the manual back, she would just look petty and spiteful.

Celia sneered inwardly, ‘Better to let Vivian’s own stupidity work against her. She actually burned a gift from Consort Daphne just to spite me. Does she not remember Consort Daphne represents the royal family? To insult her gift is to insult

the Crown.

Vivian is practically signing her own death warrant. And as her devoted sister, how could I stand idly by?‘

A cold gleam settled in Celia’s eyes. She already had her next move planned.

***

Two days later, Quentin headed to Serenity Garden to test Simon’s studies.

The moment he stepped into the rd, he froze. Simon was tearing a book, crumpling the pages into balls, and tossing

them all over the ground. Scraps of paper littered the courtyard floor.

The sight hit Quentin like a slap in the face. His expression darkened instantly.

The family used to be poor and lowborn. And Quentin’s father had earned the family’s nobility on the battlefield. Quentin endured constant mockery over his humble, illegitimate origins when he was a kid.

After inheriting the title, he was determined to change that. Obsessed with etiquette and propriety, he set out to transform his family into a respected, educated dynasty. He even secured a place for his eldest son at the prestigious Pinecrest Academy.

And now his youngest was shamelessly destroying books right in front of him. ‘What a little brat,‘ Quentin seethed inside.

“Simon, what is the meaning of this?” Quentin’s voice was clipped, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Simon froze, a paper ball clutched in his hand. Quentin’s voice sent a tremor through him, his words a terrified stammer. “T–the teacher gave me too much homework. I couldn’t get it all done.”

“You didn’t finish your work, so you tore up the book?” Quentin’s hand shot up, ready to slap Simon.

But it stopped. He looked at Simon, who seemed so small and fragile.

The boy had been sickly since birth, weakened by a difficult delivery. Just the week before, a terrible fever had nearly killed him. If Vivian hadn’t rushed to Moonbay Abbey to fetch Hadley, Simon would not have survived.

Quentin’s jaw tightened as he lowered his hand. “Your pages are here to help you study, not to cover for your tantrums,” he

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Chapter 37

said, his voice sharp. “I won’t punish you. But they will not be excused for failing in their duty.”

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At his command, the two young pages were dragged into the courtyard. They were just boys, barely ten years old and small for their age. The harsh crack of a cane split the air, each stroke met with a sharp cry of pain.

Simon watched, pale and trembling, begging his father to stop. Quentin stood rigid, his face a stony mask, offering no reprieve.

The commotion soon drew Beatrice to Serenity Garden, with Flora, Sylvia, Matthew and Celia.

Simon rushed into Flora’s arms, his small frame trembling with sobs. “Mother, it’s not fair,” he cried. “Vivian burned a whole book and nothing happened to her. I just tore a few pages, and Father wants to punish me.”

“Vivian burned a book?” Quentin’s voice turned gravelly, sharp with alarm. “Which book?”

A cold dread settled over him, a feeling mirrored in the anxious glances exchanged between Beatrice and Flora.

Vivian was no reader. The only books she owned had been sent from Daphne. The same terrible thought struck them all at once: Vivian would not be reckless enough to burn a gift from Consort Daphne, would she?