The Emperor turned his gaze from Eric toward the center of the courtroom.
“Marquis Philippe,” the Emperor commanded, his voice echoing in the vaulted chamber. “Present your findings to the court.”
Marquis Philippe stood, his movements precise and professional. “Three weeks ago, on the 7th of June, the Duchess of Brant was involved in a catastrophic carriage failure while traveling with the Dowager Duchess and Miss Madeleine Arguin. Our investigation of the wreckage has yielded undeniable proof of sabotage.”
Philippe gestured to a table where a shattered axle and a bundle of letters lay. “As you can see, the wheel joints were not worn by friction; they were smoothed with a jeweler’s file to ensure they would snap under high-speed stress. Furthermore, we recovered a series of letters written by Madeleine Arguin, which express a virulent, murderous hatred for the Duchess.”
He then held up a small silk sachet. “This was found in the Duchess’s private quarters. It contains Taisalchu, a rare and potent abortifacient. The same substance was found in a silver flask carried by the Dowager Duchess on the day of the accident.”
Before the murmur of the crowd could grow, the Dowager’s defense attorney stood up.
“Your Majesty, I object! These findings are purely circumstantial. Taisalchu is a common, if expensive, treatment for menopausal symptoms! To claim it was used for an abortion without a witness to the administration is a reach of the highest order. And as for the carriage? The driver is dead. We cannot ask him who—if anyone—ordered the tampering. To blame my client for the actions of a dead man is legally unsound!”
The lawyer offered a smug smile to Marquis Philippe. “Madeleine Arguin’s letters speak for themselves, but where is the proof that the Dowager Duchess had any knowledge of them? She is a grieving mother-in-law, not a conspirator.”
Bianca sat back in her chair, a faint, haughty smile on her lips. *Well done,* she thought. *The law is on my side. Without a body and without a direct witness, I am untouchable.*
“I object!” Philippe countered, his voice ringing with authority. “I have direct witnesses who can testify to the Dowager’s orchestration of these events. I request permission to bring them forward.”
The Emperor nodded once. “Permission granted.”
The heavy oak doors of the courtroom swung open. Bianca’s smile vanished as two figures stepped into the light.
Randon, the former head butler, and Martha Owen, the head maid.
“You!” Bianca hissed, half-rising from her seat. “How... where have you been hiding?”
“Bianca Marsha Brant, silence!” the Emperor roared. “The next person to speak out of turn will be removed by the guards.”
Eric watched from the shadows of his seat, his jaw tight. He’d spent the last forty-eight hours tracking these two down. He’d found them hiding in a safe house provided by a 'concerned party'—likely a contact of Cornelia’s. He had personally 'persuaded' them that testifying against the Dowager was their only chance at survival.
Marquis Philippe turned to Randon. “Witness, state your name and position.”
“Landon Meyer, head butler of the Brant manor,” Randon said, his voice shaking but clear. “Three weeks ago, I overheard the Grand Madam giving orders to the head maid. She said that since the Duchess was 'unreasonably' pregnant, she should be given a gift. A gift that would 'relieve her of her burden' so suddenly she would lose her wits.”
“And how did the Duchess react when you told her of this?” Philippe asked.
The courtroom went still. The narrative Cornelia had carefully crafted—the tragic, desperate-for-love princess—was about to be finalized.
“She wept,” Randon lied, his voice thick with a feigned, agonizing pity. “She said she knew the Dowager hated her, but she hoped that by drinking the tea, she could show her devotion. She wanted the Grand Madam’s approval so badly she was willing to risk her own health. She checked the tea for lethal poisons, of course, but Taisalchu is subtle. She thought it was just a bitter herb.”
A wave of disapproval swept through the noble gallery. The image of the "Wicked Wife" was being replaced by a tragic martyr, a woman bullied into her own destruction by a monstrous mother-in-law.
Philippe then turned to Martha Owen. The head maid was trembling, her eyes darting toward Eric. The Duke’s murderous gaze was fixed on her, a silent promise that any deviation from the script would be her last.
“Martha Owen, did you sabotage the carriage?”
“I... I did,” Martha whispered. “On the Grand Madam’s direct orders. I monitored the Duchess’s tea every day to ensure she took the full dose. I went to the driver’s residence the night before the trip to ensure the axles were ready to fail.”
“Do you have proof?” the Emperor asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Martha reached into her apron and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. Bianca’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head.
“This is the Grand Madam’s secret ledger,” Martha said. “It contains the records of the Taisalchu purchases and the bribes paid to the driver. She told me to burn it... but I couldn't do it. I was afraid for my life.”
The courtroom erupted. The "Circumstantial" defense had just been burned to the ground. The ledger was the smoking gun.
The Emperor looked down at the defendants. “The evidence is clear. A conspiracy of two women, fueled by malice and greed, led to the disappearance and presumed death of a Princess of the Empire.”
He was about to pass judgment when a voice shrieked through the chamber.
“NO! I will not be the only one to fall!”
Madeleine Arguin stood up, her face twisted with a frantic, ugly rage. She pointed a trembling finger at the Dowager.
“Your Majesty, I didn't act alone! And I wasn't the one who wanted her dead! Ask the Dowager why she was so desperate to get rid of Cornelia! Ask her about the boy in the North!”