CHAPTER 37

A soft drizzle accompanied dawn as a small convoy of riders set out from Belfoire Manor. Vivienne, wrapped in a sturdy cloak, rode near the center, flanked by two armed guards. Julian took position at the front, scanning the road ahead with practiced vigilance, while Lucien brought up the rear, ensuring none straggled. Their group numbered only a dozen loyal men, enough to confront Nathaniel's potential henchmen but not so large as to attract undue attention.

They traveled at a brisk pace, the chill wind biting at exposed cheeks. After miles on muddy lanes, they reached the narrow pass rumored to lead to the safe house. Gnarled trees and thick underbrush loomed on either side, perfect terrain for an ambush.

Julian raised a hand, signaling them to slow. He dismounted, studying the path. Lucien joined him, tension in his posture. Vivienne remained astride, gripping the reins, heart pounding with the knowledge that Nathaniel could be just ahead.

Quietly, two scouts advanced. Minutes ticked by in heavy silence until one scout returned, whispering that a modest cottage lay hidden beyond the bend, smoke curling from its chimney. Horses were tied outside, likely Nathaniel's men.

Lucien's jaw set. "This is it."

They formed a plan: half the men would circle around to block escape routes; the rest, led by Lucien, Julian, and Vivienne, would approach from the front. They hoped to surround the cottage before Nathaniel realized the net closing.

As they crept along the narrow path, the drizzle masked their footsteps. Vivienne's pulse thundered in her ears. She inhaled, summoning courage. This is for Father, she reminded herself. For the family name destroyed by false charges. For Lucien, wronged by his own blood. For Julian, who staked his honor on truth.

At the sight of the cottage, their group spread out. A few men took cover behind bushes. Lucien nodded at Julian, who advanced with sword in hand. The door stood slightly ajar, a lantern flickering inside. Muffled voices filtered out—male voices, one perhaps belonging to Nathaniel.

Julian motioned, and a guard kicked the door wide. The group surged into the cramped interior. Two startled men leapt up from a table, scrambling for weapons. But Lucien's men quickly disarmed them. Nathaniel whirled from the fireplace corner, eyes going wide with fury.

"Lucien," he spat, dropping a letter. "So you found me after all."

Lucien strode forward, face taut with betrayal. "Enough games, cousin. Your treachery ends now."

Nathaniel's gaze darted to Vivienne, then to Julian. He sneered. "And you brought your conspirators. How fitting. Did you bond over your mutual deception?"

Vivienne flinched but stood firm. "We stand together to stop you from dragging more innocents into your vendetta."

Nathaniel let out a bitter laugh, reaching for a dagger at his belt. Two of Lucien's guards lunged, seizing his arms. He struggled, face twisted with hatred. "You always were resourceful, cousin. But don't think this victory means you're unscathed. My associates will avenge me if I disappear."

Julian stepped closer, sword glinting. "We have your lead agents already. Your network is dismantled. Surrender peacefully."

Snarling, Nathaniel tried wrenching free, but the guards held fast. "Look at you, Lucien," he taunted. "Hiding behind a false mistress and a so-called ally from the Crown. You pretend to be above corruption, but you're as ruthless as they come, stealing what should have been mine—my share of the Hawke fortune!"

Lucien's eyes flashed. "Your share? You forfeited your inheritance through reckless gambling and forging documents. Don't blame me for your ruin."

Vivienne's heart twisted, seeing how deeply the feud cut. "Nathaniel, you orchestrated arms-smuggling rumors, bribed staff, nearly got people killed—for what, revenge on Lucien?"

Nathaniel spat at her feet. "He had everything. Wealth, power, respect. I had nothing. So I decided to make you both pay. Using that foolish footman was just a start. Then you waltzed in, handing me a chance to sabotage from inside."

Lucien glared daggers, trembling with rage. "You ruined innocents' lives, tarnished my name, and would have killed my—" He broke off, voice choked. My beloved? My mistress? My ally?

Julian's voice cut in, controlled yet sharp. "We have enough evidence to convict you of conspiracy, forgery, attempted murder. Surrender, or we bind and drag you before the crown's tribunal."

Nathaniel stilled, chest heaving, cornered. The guards pinned his arms behind him, knocking the dagger from his hand. He slumped, letting out a harsh laugh. "Fine. You win." He gazed at Lucien with loathing. "Take me away, if that's your triumph."

Lucien's fists clenched, but he reined in the urge to lash out. He gave a curt nod to the guards. "Secure him. We ride back to Belfoire, then the War Office if needed." He swallowed, voice quieter. "The Hawke name will endure, but you— I can't forgive this."

Nathaniel said nothing, eyes blazing with hatred and loss. The guards bound him. One rummaged the cottage, recovering letters that further incriminated him. Meanwhile, Vivienne exhaled in relief, though sorrow lingered for the shattered family ties.

Outside, a weak sun broke through thinning clouds. The men marched Nathaniel to the waiting horses. He scowled at the sight of Vivienne stepping forward. "Congratulations, dear lady," he sneered. "You fooled Lucien better than I ever did. I hope your reward soothes your conscience."

Pain flashed in her eyes, but she held her ground. "My conscience is pained by your needless vendetta. I only wish we'd ended this before so many were hurt."

Nathaniel let out a dark chuckle, turning away. Lucien motioned to his men, and they secured Nathaniel to a spare mount. Julian and Vivienne watched silently. Their mission was almost complete—but at a steep cost in trust and heartbreak.

Lucien addressed the group. "We ride for Belfoire, then onward to the Crown. Keep a firm hold on the prisoner." He spared Nathaniel one last glance, jaw taut. "Let's end this once and for all."

As the convoy set off, Vivienne rode near Julian, each keeping watch for any last trap. But Nathaniel's men were apparently subdued or scattered. The path lay clear. By day's end, they'd reach the manor. By week's end, Nathaniel would face royal justice.

Vivienne's chest felt both lighter and heavier: the conspiracy resolved, but personal ramifications looming. She sensed Lucien's gaze flick her way occasionally from behind, as if struggling to place her in his new reality. Julian, too, stayed close, silent but protective. The triad that once moved in shadows had emerged victorious, yet battered.

At nightfall, they camped briefly. Vivienne found a quiet moment beside the campfire with Lucien. They exchanged few words, but the tension between them was no longer lethal—rather, a pained acceptance of what they had lost and might still reclaim. Meanwhile, Julian spoke with the guards about tomorrow's travel, giving them space.

As stars emerged overhead, Vivienne closed her eyes and breathed in the cool air. The final obstacle to clearing Lucien's name had fallen. Now the real question rose: Where do we go from here—three hearts bound by secrets, longing, and regret?

Only time would reveal the shape of their future.