It is time to end this charade.

  “Bring him in,” Eine ordered.

  “As you wish, midy.” Cecil inclined his body and stepped outside. Seconds ter, he returned with another man. The man trudged behind him, gluing his eyes to the floor as they proceeded to the center.

  Hushed murmurs again emerged in pockets of the crowds, and leering, curious eyes fixed on the man like scientists discovering a new specimen, wanting to study everything about him. The man’s figure and features seemed familiar to some observers, yet they could not pinpoint exactly where or when they had encountered him.

  “Lift your head and state your name,” Eine instructed after the man arrived while her gaze remained fixated on Isabel, scrutinizing the woman’s subtlest movements.

  “Y, yes, midy…” Paraveas obeyed and slowly raised his head. “My, my name is Paraveas Rossi.”Immediately, Agnes’ brother’s heavyset body uncontrolbly trembled, cowering under the numerous poignant stares.

  Several indistinct gasps cut through the silence as everyone ?realized his identity?. “Is he reted to Miss Laeticia’s maid?” someone asked. ?

  “But what is his purpose here?” another inquired.

  The Duchess’ gcial gaze pierced Paraveas from above, sending terror through him. The stubby young man’s legs wobbled like bancing on a tight rope in midair. Yet his body stayed upright, aided by the firm hands holding his shoulders. “Remember your commitment to Lady Estel,” Cecil whispered behind him.

  “I, I understand,” Agnes’ brother stuttered.

  Eine observed the stubby young man and sighed in her mind. She would need to conclude the py quickly before the wimp lost his speaking ability. “Paraveas Rossi,” she called. “Look carefully. Do you recognize anyone among the individuals present today?”

  Paraveas bobbed his head as his eyes nervously scanned the chamber. The search halted when his gaze nded on a young maid hidden behind several servants in a corner. “It…it is her.” He pointed. “She is the one that gave me the gold and letter from my sister several months ago.”

  The servants in his pointing direction all stepped back, revealing a young female of about fifteen or sixteen. All colors drained from her cheeks. The young maid’s round eyes popped wide open while a horrifying cognizant seeped in, paralyzing her body with fear. “I, I, I was only following orders,” she cried.

  “From whom?” Eine asked. While the girl was a servant from the House of Valois, she had expected someone closer to Isabel to perform the critical task. Her eyes trailed to ?the older maid assisting the frail Valois mistress.

  “I, I don’t know…” The young maid staggered backward, hands grabbing the wall behind her for support. “Before I returned to my hometown to visit, a manservant asked me to help him with a quick errand for a rge payment. I, I just wanted to make some extra money.” Her teeth cttered, only now realizing her previous stupidity. How could such an easy and lucrative job fall onto her p without a price to pay?

  “Who is he?”

  “I…I can’t recall.” The young maid’s hands held her head, struggling to remember the series of events. It was as though the man was a specter, existing in only portions of her memories.

  Well pyed, Isabel. You used an unreted individual from Agnes Rossi’s hometown to do your bidding. The Valois mistress was more cunning than Eine initially credited her for. However, Isabel also miscalcuted some aspects of her pn. The young maid came to Paraveas’ house in the Valois uniform. Though the blunder might be an unintentional habit, it revealed her identity and, as a result, tied her action to Isabel de Valois. Like a stroke of luck, the coincidence provided Eine with ample situational allegations.

  “Why would Miss Isabel’s maid pay Agnes Rossi’s brother?” Eine quizzed, eyes panning the room. “Unless they were conspiring together. But against who I wonder…” She had ?no concrete evidence, yet it did not matter. All Eine needed was to create skepticism about the Valois mistress’ involvement. Doubts and suspicions, if wielded effectively, were a more powerful weapon than the truth within the Croix estate.

  “To think the gentle Miss Isabel would commit those terrible acts,” the servants whispered. The other mistresses stayed silent, yet their sneering expressions spoke louder than words—all eyes held the Valois mistress in contempt. Even without absolute evidence, everyone had already made their judgment. The Duchess, however, kept her detached appearance as though she had seen the same scene repeated once too many times.

  “No, you are lying!” Azalea yelled. Despite her denial, the little girl recoiled from Isabel, backing away. “Aunt Isabel could never…” A battle engaged in Laeticia’s daughter’s mind, cshing between her beliefs and the facts.

  “Is it wrong…” Isabel murmured, lifting her head. She remained slumped to the floor, yet the fragility within her gaze had disappeared, repced by an intense and murderous resentment. “Is it wrong to demand justice for my son? Wasn’t he too an innocent child?” she continued in a barely audible voice. “They all deserved to burn.”

  “Answer me, Isabel, how did you kill Laeticia?” Eine stepped closer, wanting to hear an expnation for many mysteries that remained unsolved. Despite her efforts, she could not figure out how the Valois mistress framed Laeticia de Sabran. The guard that Azalea’s mother supposedly had an affair with was executed. However, when Eine investigated the man’s background, she found nothing about him. The ‘guard’ had no history, like he had never existed since the beginning. What about Laeticia’s apparent suicide and the fabric she discovered under the Isotion Tower? How did Isabel bypass the strict security to end her enemy? Eine needed answers and was certain only the Valois mistress could provide them.