Price of Ambition

As a child, Lionel Theorne had learned one simple truth—power belonged to those who were willing to take it.

Born as the second son of a lowly Count, he was never meant to inherit anything of importance. His older brother, the rightful heir, was the golden child. Lionel, in contrast, was merely a spare—allowed to exist but never truly needed.

He despised it.

While his brother basked in the praise of their father and studied politics under the best tutors, Lionel was sent off to the army as soon as he came of age.

It was a death sentence.

War was raging at the time, and thousands of young noble sons were thrown into the battlefield to either die or become hardened killers. Lionel chose the latter.

Unlike his sheltered brother, he thrived in the blood and chaos of war. He learned how to command, how to fight, how to survive. More importantly, he learned how to manipulate men—how to push their weaknesses, how to break them, and how to make them useful.

By the time he returned home, he was no longer the unwanted second son. He was a war hero.

Yet, when he arrived at the Theorne estate, he was greeted with the sight of his brother standing tall, still the favored heir. Nothing had changed.

And that was when Lionel decided—if the world would not give him his rightful place, he would take it himself.

The previous Marquis Evermont had been an old man, wise and well-respected. He had no sons, only a single daughter—the rightful heir to the Evermont name.

Lionel knew the laws well. If the marquis were to die, his daughter would inherit everything. If she then married… her husband would take control of the estate.

It was the perfect opportunity.

Lionel had no intention of charming the marquis's daughter. That would take too long, and he was not the kind of man to leave things to chance. Instead, he chose the fastest route—murder.

On a cold winter night, the marquis was found dead in his study. The cause? A tragic accident.

A fire, they said. Unfortunate. Terrible. The flames had been too fierce, too fast. The old man had been trapped inside, reduced to nothing but ashes and bones.

The young heiress wept.

Lionel comforted her.

He was the only man of status willing to offer his hand in marriage during her time of grief. A strong, respected war hero, someone who could protect her.

She had no choice.

The wedding was held within the month.

A year later, she was locked away in a secluded manor, branded as "mentally unstable."

She was of no use to him now.

The title of Marquis Evermont belonged to Lionel.

Once he secured his position, Lionel wasted no time cementing his power.

He used his wealth to secure political alliances. He funded orphanages, created charities, and played the role of a generous, righteous noble. People loved him.

But behind closed doors, he built something else entirely.

He was ruthless in his dealings. If someone stood in his way, they were destroyed—through blackmail, bribery, or worse.

He silenced rumors, manipulated court politics, and ensured that his name remained untouchable.

Yet, even after years of careful planning, he knew he was still lacking something.

True power.

Power that could only come from having a direct connection to the throne.

And so, he found a girl.

She was nothing special at first. Just another orphan—one of many. But when he saw her, he knew she had potential.

She was beautiful. Bright-eyed. Desperate.

He took her in, raised her under his care.

She was taught how to speak, how to act, how to manipulate men.

She was given the best tutors, the finest dresses, the most expensive perfumes.

By the time she reached marriageable age, she was no longer an orphan. She was Liliana—his most prized creation.

And when the opportunity came to push her into the emperor's arms, he took it.

Liliana became the Emperor's beloved Queen.

And Lionel Evermont became the most powerful man in the Empire.

A Crumbling Empire

For years, everything had gone according to plan.

Then—

Disaster.

It started with whispers.

Rumors of missing children. Of corruption.

Then, the Empress—Diana Hinsdale—began moving in the shadows.

And then—

The flyers.

Hundreds of them.

They rained down over the capital, exposing everything.

Lionel sat in his study, gripping the crumpled papers in his hands. His heart pounded as he read the words over and over again.

Marquis Evermont, the righteous noble, caught in scandal!

Stolen funds, mistresses, illegitimate children—

His face twisted in fury.

"Useless," he hissed under his breath.

He grabbed his communication crystal, his hands trembling with rage.

The moment the connection established, Liliana's face appeared on the other end.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" he roared.

Liliana flinched, bowing her head. "F-Father, I—"

"You let this happen!" Lionel slammed his fist against his desk. "You were supposed to control Cassian! And now this?! This?!"

Liliana's lower lip trembled, but she did not dare talk back.

Of course, she wouldn't.

She knew her place.

Lionel gritted his teeth. "Do you think I care about the embezzlement accusations?! Hah! That's nothing!"

He could easily shift the blame onto someone else.

But the mistress scandal…

That was different.

His reputation had been built upon righteousness. He was the beloved noble who saved orphans.

And now, the world knew he had a string of mistresses. Seven illegitimate children.

It was humiliating.

Liliana, seeing his fury, quickly tried to deflect. "B-But Father! The Emperor says this is normal! Who doesn't have mistresses? Even—"

"Do you think I care what that fool says?" Lionel snapped. "You idiot girl. The Emperor is a man. I am a symbol. Do you think the people will treat me the same as some foolish monarch?! I am supposed to be pure in their eyes!"

Liliana paled.

Lionel inhaled sharply, trying to regain control of his temper.

"This isn't over," he muttered.

The communication cut off.

He sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

He needed a new plan.

The empress had started this war.

She would regret it.

Lionel Evermont sat in his lavish office, his fingers drumming against the finely polished desk. His fury had not yet cooled from his earlier conversation with Liliana.

Useless, incompetent girl. He had spent years shaping her into the perfect pawn, and yet, she had failed at the most crucial moment.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

A sharp knock came at the door.

"Enter," he barked.

A trembling knight stepped inside, his face pale as a ghost. "M-My lord, there's been an attack."

Lionel stilled. His eyes, dark and calculating, locked onto the man.

"An attack?" His voice was dangerously low.

The knight swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, my lord. The granaries…"

Lionel shot up from his chair so fast that it scraped against the floor.

"What. About. The. Granaries?"

The knight hesitated, then forced himself to speak.

"They're gone."

Silence.

Then, Lionel let out a slow, harsh exhale. He reached for the edge of his desk, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Gone?" he repeated, voice deceptively calm.

The knight, sensing danger, stiffened. "The warehouses were emptied overnight. Every last sack of grain, every barrel of preserved food… all gone. The supply routes were cut off, and the knights stationed there were either knocked out or tied up before they could react."

Lionel's blood turned to ice.

His granaries—his hidden granaries—had been raided? Impossible.

No one was supposed to know about them.

His mind raced. Those supplies weren't just for show. They were his safety net, his leverage over the starving lower nobles, the desperate merchants, and even the royal family.

If the Empire ever faced a food crisis, he was supposed to be the one with the answers.

And now—

Everything was gone?

Lionel forced himself to remain calm.

"No one takes from me without consequences." He exhaled through his nose, his rage carefully contained. "Tell me. Who did it?"

The knight looked miserable. "We… we don't know, my lord."

That was the wrong answer.

Lionel's fist slammed onto the desk, rattling the decorative ink pots and documents.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

The knight flinched but quickly continued. "There were no banners, no symbols. The guards who survived said the attackers were too fast. It was like they appeared out of nowhere, struck, and disappeared before they could fight back."

Lionel narrowed his eyes. "An enemy with no face? No demands?"

The knight hesitated. "W-Well, my lord… there was one thing."

Lionel raised a brow.

The knight hesitated, then pulled out a piece of parchment, slightly crumpled from being in his hands.

"This was left behind."

Lionel snatched it from his grip.

Unfolding the paper, his eyes landed on the elegantly written words scrawled across the page.

It was a single, mocking sentence.

"A debt long overdue."

Lionel's entire body tensed.

Someone had dared to mock him?

Whoever they were, they weren't just thieves. This was personal.

He crushed the paper in his fist, his jaw tightening.

His supplies were stolen. His influence was wavering. His name was in the mud.

And the worst part?

He had no idea who was responsible.