Olga entered first with a silver tray; the faint aroma of coffee followed her. Behind her came a kindly old man, his white hair brushed neatly back, spectacles catching the light.

  Alaric and Katerina rose from their chairs by the hearth as Olga set the tray down.

  “Mr. Van Aerden,” Katerina said, measured and cool, “this is Boris Smirnov. He has served as my family’s lawyer since my father’s time.”

  Alaric inclined his head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Smirnov.”

  Smirnov’s smile was small and steady, the sort earned by long habit. “And you must be Captain Alaric Van Aerden. The lady has told me a little about your… predicament.”

  “Yes,” Alaric replied, amusement threading his voice. “And she mentioned you might be the one to help resolve it.”

  “I shall do my best, Mr. Van Aerden,” Smirnov said with a courteous nod.

  Katerina gestured toward the hearth. “Please—take a seat by the fire. I believe Olga has made enough coffee for the three of us.”

  Olga nodded. Smirnov settled, smiling gently. “One cannot start proper work without proper coffee.”

  Alaric chuckled. The three sat; the quiet clink of porcelain filled the pause as Olga poured. Steam rose, mingling with roasted beans and oak smoke.

  Smirnov took a slow sip, set his cup aside, and folded his hands. “So… before we begin, which matter shall we address first?”

  “I believe Mr. Van Aerden should go first,” Katerina said. “He has come a long way to settle the debts my husband accumulated.” Alaric noticed how Katerina clench her hand as the word husband left her mouth.

  “If you insist, madame,” Alaric answered, inclining his head.

  “Very well then,” Smirnov said. “Do you have all the documents, Mr. Van Aerden?”

  “All ledgers, contracts, and relevant papers,” Alaric replied, producing a neat stack from his satchel.

  Smirnov adjusted his spectacles and read, fingers turning the pages as he murmured to himself. “I see… hmm… this is not good… oh my…”

  Katerina’s fingers tightened around her cup. She already knew the shape of this disaster; hearing it named did not make it smaller.

  “How bad is it, Mr. Smirnov?” she asked.

  “It’s—quite bad,” Smirnov said. “I’m no accountant, but it appears Mr. Morozov has accumulated enough debt for Mr. Van Aerden to claim this mansion and the remaining ships in the dock.”

  “The remaining?” Alaric arched a brow.

  “One of the ships struck a reef a few months back. My husband was forced to sell her for salvage.” Katerina kept her voice even, though the loss still stung.

  “A reef?” Alaric asked. “Was the ship called the Ocean Jewel?”

  “Yes—how did you know?”

  “I heard of the accident,” Alaric said after a brief pause. “I did not realize it belonged to your husband.”

  Smirnov set the papers aside, removed his spectacles, and cleared his throat. “This is a well-drafted contract, Mr. Van Aerden. Under its terms you are lawfully entitled to claim the five merchant vessels signed over by Mr. Morozov himself.”

  He glanced at Katerina.

  “If the contract is signed, then so be it,” she said evenly.

  “Still,” Smirnov continued, “since the man is absent, I advise you accompany Mr. Van Aerden—at least for formality’s sake.”

  “That can be arranged,” Katerina answered.

  “Then that settles six-tenths of the debt,” Smirnov said, replacing his spectacles. “As for the remainder… it may be complicated. Mr. Morozov still owes an amount equivalent to this mansion, but since it wasn’t listed as collateral we cannot include it in the present claim. And even if we drafted a new contract now, your company policy forbids a signatory from being represented by another—even a next of kin.”

  “I’m aware,” Alaric said with a faint smile. “Don’t trouble yourself—I have no wish to evict Lady Katerina from this house anyway.”

  Katerina returned the smile with a small, graceful nod.

  “Very well,” Smirnov said. “We can draft an IOU as a temporary measure.”

  Alaric leaned back. “We can worry about the rest later. As long as I get the ships, that will do for me and the lady.”

  Smirnov stacked the pages neatly. “Now—shall we address Lady Katerina’s side of the predicament?”

  “By all means,” Alaric said.

  Smirnov withdrew a folded paper sealed with faded wax and placed it on the table. “This is the will of the late Nikolai Kuznetsov—Lady Katerina’s father. It divides his estate between his two children: his daughter, Katerina, and his son, Dimitri.”

  Alaric unfolded the letter and read the deliberate handwriting.

  Nikolai Kuznetsov had divided his wealth evenly—lands, companies, assets. Yet only one holding was placed in joint possession: a sugar estate in the West Meridian Sea. The will stipulated the estate remain jointly held until one claimant sailed there in person and signed the prearranged contract to transfer sole ownership.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Your father was an interesting man, madame,” Alaric said. “I did not expect a sugar estate in the West Meridian Sea.”

  “He was an explorer,” Katerina replied. Pride warmed her voice despite herself. “He found an uninhabited island there and claimed it.”

  “So what is the nature of this dispute?”

  “My brother and I both have the right to alter ownership,” Katerina said. “But my brother wants to claim full ownership and sell the estate. I won’t allow that—this was my father’s pride. I intend to preserve it.” Her resolve steadied her.

  “Then what do we wait for? I have the fastest ship on the sea; we could sail there and claim it in short order,” Alaric said.

  Smirnov sighed. “Under Ruskan law, a wife’s possessions are considered the husband’s. Even if Lady Katerina claims the estate, it remains legally her husband’s—and Mr. Morozov is working for Dimitri.”

  “And divorce?” Alaric asked.

  “The lady could file,” Smirnov said, “but if the wife submits the petition she retains only twenty percent of the wealth.”

  Alaric tapped the table. “So she must be divorced before she can claim the estate—and bureaucracy will slow that down. Time is not on our side.”

  “Precisely.”

  Alaric considered for a long breath. “Then what about a widow?”

  Smirnov blinked. “A… widow?”

  “A widow inherits her husband’s possessions—provided he leaves no successor,” Smirnov said slowly. “But Mr. Morozov is very much alive.”

  Alaric’s smile sharpened. “What if I could encourage him to… die?”

  Katerina’s pulse jumped—fear, then a colder curiosity. She did not look away.

  Smirnov froze. “Are you suggesting murder, Captain? That would be—”

  “Against the law,” Alaric finished smoothly. “Yes. I am aware.” He rose and bowed slightly to Katerina. “Tell me, Mr. Smirnov—how loyal are you to Lady Katerina?”

  “I am absolutely loyal, but—”

  “Then you needn’t hear the rest of the plan.”

  “My lady, whatever the plan is, it might be too risky,” Smirnov said.

  “Calm yourself,” Alaric replied. “No one is talking about murder.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said what I said,” Alaric cut in gently. “I merely intend to convince him to die.”

  Smirnov’s spectacles slipped. “Convince him—how does that work?”

  “Oh, I’ll find the right rhetoric,” Alaric said lightly. “Trust me—I can be very convincing.”

  “I… what…”

  “It seems you have an interesting proposal, Mr. Van Aerden,” Katerina said. The words surprised even her; they felt steady, chosen, Katerina thought.

  “My lady, please—”

  “It’s quite all right,” she interrupted. “Mr. Van Aerden has said he will not kill my husband, and I believe he is a man of his word.” She studied Alaric as she said it—and found she meant it.

  Smirnov found no answer.

  “Olga,” she said more quietly, “would you kindly escort Mr. Smirnov to another room? I wish to speak with Mr. Van Aerden alone.”

  “Yes, madame,” Olga replied, inclining her head. She rose and guided Smirnov from the study. Their footsteps faded; the door closed with a soft click.

  “Now,” Katerina said, once the silence settled, “what is your suggestion, Mr. Van Aerden?”

  “Before I explain…” Alaric glanced to the balcony. “Mila, you may come in.”

  The curtains stirred; a woman stepped in from the sunlit balcony.

  Katerina blinked. “Wait—who are you? How did you—this is the second floor.”

  “Do not be alarmed, madame,” Alaric said. “This is Mila—my personal assistant and sword captain aboard the Nocturne. I had her survey the mansion in case of uninvited guests.”

  Mila bowed once to Katerina, then to Alaric. “There is nothing suspicious, sir. But—” She stepped closer and whispered in his ear.

  Alaric nodded, then turned back to Katerina. “All right. Let us return to your problem. Where were we?”

  “My husband,” Katerina said. “You were going to get rid of him.”

  “Ah yes. Men like Morozov are cowards—you’re surely aware of that,” Alaric said evenly. “A man like him cannot endure hardship. I’ll make his life unbearable: first his wealth, which I’m already taking, then his dignity, then his future, until the only thing left to his name is the thought of a grave.”

  Katerina absorbed this, the chill of it—and the logic. “I knew we might need extreme measures,” she said, “but I did not expect such bluntness.”

  “His fate was sealed when he betrayed me,” Alaric replied. “This is about integrity.”

  “I see.” She did. And she hated how much sense it made.

  “That candour is for you,” he added softly, “in case you harbor any semblance of love.”

  Katerina’s composure flickered. “There is no love—our marriage is convenience and ledger entries. However,” she added after a pause, “promise me one thing: do not harm my brother. I know he is behind much of this, but he is still my family.” “That can be arranged,” Alaric said. “But I have one more proposal.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You wish to preserve the estate.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you will need more than will. You will need ships, money, logistics.”

  “Investment?”

  Alaric rose. “For a start—yes.”

  “For a start?” she echoed.

  “What I propose,” he said, calm and deliberate, “is your hand in marriage.”

  Katerina’s breath caught. Calculation raced ahead of shock. “Is this part of your plan?”

  “Partly, yes—but not essential, since you already allied yourself with me.” Then Alaric’s voice softened. “But I must say, I am intrigued by your charm, madame.”

  “But there is already a Mrs. Van Aerden.”

  “There is a Mrs. Van Aerden,” he said without shame, “and she is accommodating of my arrangements.” He glanced at Mila with mild amusement. “Or more.”

  “This is… a bit sudden,” Katerina said. Alaric noticed the hesitation in her voice.

  “I know,” he replied. “But consider it: my ships become your ships, my funds your funds. However, I promise—your estate and possessions remain yours.”

  Katerina regarded him for a long beat. “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will still take you to the estate,” he said quietly. “I will still invest in its restoration—at your behest.”

  Katerina weighed the offer—result against pride, freedom against safety. “I will think about it,” she said at last. “Tell me—are you planning to keep two tigresses at your side?”

  Alaric smirked. He stepped toward Mila; his hand brushed her cheek, sliding to the back of her neck in a slow, deliberate motion. Mila met his gaze without flinching, and when he drew her close, the kiss was unhurried—quiet, certain, a gesture that carried neither apology nor display. When they parted, the faintest smile lingered on both their lips.

  Katerina froze.

  Not at the intimacy itself—she had seen enough arranged unions and discreet affairs to know what passion looked like—but at the timing of it.

  “He proposed marriage… and then did this.” Katerina thought.

  There was no attempt to hide it. No effort to soften the message or dress it in courtesy. Alaric had not looked to her for permission, nor for reassurance. He had simply acted, as if daring her to understand what kind of man stood before her.

  Shock flared first—brief, sharp—then something more dangerous followed. Intrigue.

  She felt a flicker of shock give way to something sharper—curiosity, edged with admiration. A man so unapologetically honest in his desires was rare… and dangerous. Yet there was clarity in it, a strange kind of respect in his refusal to lie.

  This was not a contradiction, she realized. It was a declaration. A man who offered alliance with one hand and truth with the other. No illusions. No promises of exclusivity he had no intention of keeping.

  It unsettled her.

  And, to her own surprise, it impressed her.

  When Alaric turned back toward her, amusement bright in his eyes, she became uncomfortably aware that she had not recoiled. That her pulse had not quickened in fear—but in calculation.

  “Three tigresses, madame,” he said lightly, adjusting his coat. “Now—let us go to the docks. There are ships that need seizing.”Katerina rose, smoothing her skirt, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re impossible, Mr. Van Aerden.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he returned.

  They left the study together—Mila silent and watchful at his side, Katerina following with composed grace. The door closed softly behind them, leaving the scent of coffee and ink in the air.