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CHAPTER 60
Not long after, Vincent arrived.
When he opened the door and saw me in a maid uniform, he looked a little surprised—but since it was better than the pants from earlier, he didn’t question it.
“Nothing happened on the way here?”
“Nothing… happened?”
I wasn’t sure if he was asking because he knew something, so I looked into his eyes. His emerald eyes were just beautiful, nothing more.
“A maid mistook me for another maid, but that was it.”
“Ah, that must’ve been Jessie.”
“Her name’s Jessie?”
“Yes. I heard she entered the palace as a child. She was only recently assigned to the Crown Prince’s residence.”
As I thought—she looked like she’d been around for a while. Come to think of it, our Vivian is still young too.
I should give her a few extra desserts later.
I’d like to give her some allowance, but now I have to earn and save my own money. There will be a time when I can use the knowledge from the original story to make a fortune, but not yet.
“The desk will arrive tomorrow. I called you in too suddenly today, so it’s not ready yet. For now, come here.”
Vincent was seated on a sofa—not the single one reserved for the highest seat, but a longer one. Across from him sat Oscar.
Where should I sit?
I considered sitting beside Oscar but decided against it. I was still the Crown Prince’s fiancée, after all.
Carefully, I sat next to Vincent. Thankfully, neither of them objected.
Then I glanced at Vincent’s side profile.
He seems in a good mood today.
Oscar began neatly placing several documents on the low table.
When I stared blankly at them, Vincent picked one up and handed it to me.
“Take a look.”
“Can I?”
“Yes, you probably know what it’s about.”
As he said that, I opened the document.
“…Ah.”
It was about the Moulton family. The information had been expanded since the last time I’d secretly looked at the papers on Vincent’s desk.
I already knew the gist from the original novel, but seeing the numbers written out made it feel much more serious.
Specifically, Marchioness of Moulton’s financial situation.
“Wow, really? At that price? That’s insane.”
I could also tell how wealthy the Moulton family was. If the Moultons had this much, just how rich was the Wentworth Duchy?
“They even handed over their mansion. Does the Marquis of Moulton still not know?”
Oscar answered my question.
“The Moulton family built their fortune through maritime trade. The Marquis often goes abroad—he’s away now too. I believe he only returns every few months.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
So that’s why he didn’t notice until things got this bad.
For a moment, I felt sorry for him—but it didn’t last.
Losing everything to his wife was unfortunate, but the wealth he’d built wasn’t exactly clean. There were shady dealings behind it too.
If the next asset to go up for sale is what I think it is… do they know yet?
Apparently, they did—because the next line of conversation confirmed it.
“It looks like the rumor that the Moulton family owns the slave auction will soon be proven true.”
“Yes. Since the only remaining property is their port, if anything else surfaces, it’s most likely the slave auction.”
“And that’s exactly what the Duke of Wentworth covets most.”
Vincent glanced at me briefly, as if aware of my reaction.
“The goose that lays the golden eggs,” he said. “Even if its insides are pitch black.”
So they already knew. Still, one thing puzzled me.
“Then why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? A slave auction is… evil.”
“It’s not that they’ve ignored it, Lady Amelia,” Oscar explained, sounding exasperated.
“It’s because of how elusive it is. The auctions are held in different locations each time.
Even when we get information and move in to raid them, they’ve already disappeared.
The few successful raids only caught decoys. We’ve never found the real operators.”
“And the rumor says the Moulton family is the one behind it.”
“Correct. We’ve always had suspicions but never solid proof.”
“I see.”
I nodded quietly.
The Empire had officially abolished slavery. Titles still existed, but people were to be treated as people.
Employment had to be a contractual relationship between employer and employee.
But slaves were treated like livestock—no pay, no rights, and their lives belonged to their masters.
I continued reading the report until the end.
“This man named Stephan seems to be the key player. We’ll have to be careful he doesn’t betray us.”
Oscar looked impressed.
“Oh, you noticed right away. Without him, this plan wouldn’t even be possible.
He originally worked for the Wentworth side, but it took a lot of persuasion to win him over.”
The way both of them grew awkward every time “Wentworth” was mentioned almost made me feel sorry for them.
“You can speak freely. I already know everything. Hiding it now just feels strange.”
“Haha, easier said than done.”
“Anyway, Stephan receives the documents from the Marchioness of Moulton, then copies and forges them before handing the fakes to my father, right?
So when he asks for them back later, they’ll be invalid.”
“Exactly,” Vincent replied this time. His eyes were steady and intent.
I knew he was testing me—trying to see whose side I was really on and how sharp I was.
And I was more than willing to pass that test.
“When the Duke of Wentworth realizes the slave auction contract is a forgery, his reaction should be… entertaining.”
Vincent nodded lightly to Oscar’s remark.
Wait—no, that’s not right.
If they did that, they’d lose the justification for raiding the slave auction, and then Sylvia—the real heroine—would never meet Vincent there.
Why is the story going differently?
I quickly spoke up.
“Um, maybe we shouldn’t interfere with the slave auction just yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s hand over the real contract to the Wentworth family.”
Oscar looked confused, but Vincent’s eyes showed understanding.
Of course—they should. In the original story, Vincent had done exactly that after returning in time.
So why was he changing it now?
“If the slave auction goes to the Wentworths, it’ll thrive even more in the shadows.
The profits alone will surpass what any estate brings in. Surely you’re not suggesting that just because—”
“Oscar, that’s not what she means.”
Vincent cut him off before I had to explain.
“If only the slave auction contract is genuine, the Duke of Wentworth will rush to secure it.
That’ll give us the chance to strike—capture the Moulton family, the Duke, and destroy the auction itself.
But if it’s fake, then all we’ll do is prevent the auction from transferring hands.”
“The slave auction will keep running under the Moultons,” I added.
“…Ah.”
Oscar finally understood, looking between me and Vincent in astonishment.
I tried not to look too pleased.
But there was still one thing I didn’t get.
Why was Vincent acting differently this time?
