I woke up with a gasp, my lungs burning as if I’d just clawed my way out of the river.
*“I found you.”*
Eric’s voice still echoed in the room, cold and triumphant. In the dream, he had stood over us, his sword a flash of silver that ended everything I had built. I frantically reached for the small, warm presence beside me.
“Mummy?”
Damian’s voice, thick with sleep but filled with concern, anchored me to reality. I pulled him close, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“It was just a dream, my love. Just a scary dream.”
“Don't be scared, Mummy,” Damian said, patting my cheek with his small, soft hand. “I’ll protect you. I’m a big boy now.”
I looked at him, my eyes stinging with tears. He was nearly four years old, and in every way that mattered, he was a miracle. He had walked early, talked early, and could already read basic scripts. He was thoughtful and observant, sometimes looking at me with an intensity that made me wonder if he, too, remembered a life that had been cut short.
*No,* I thought, shaking the idea away. *I was just so focused on Eric in the last life that I missed the beauty of his growth. I’m just seeing him clearly for the first time.*
We were so close to freedom. In three months, it would be five years since I’d disappeared. According to Imperial law, a spouse missing for half a decade without a body is declared legally deceased. The marriage would be dissolved. The Brant name would be a ghost.
“Just three more months,” I whispered.
***
While I was counting the days to my freedom, Marquis Arguin was counting his losses.
He sat in his temporary residence in the East, his face a mask of bitter, aging rage. The jade market was exploding thanks to the new continental railways, but the Arguin family was being shut out. Every major mine owner had signed exclusive contracts with a conglomerate called **Shining Stone**.
“Who the hell is behind them?” he hissed, crumpling a report.
He had tried to negotiate with the Brant mines, but the "Soul Reaper" had been systematically purging anyone with an Arguin connection since the trial. His daughter Madeleine was still rotting in the Imperial dungeons, and the Marquis was an exile with a dwindling fortune.
“Countess Hurd,” he muttered, looking at a name on his desk.
His spies had reported a young widow in the remote Heard County who had recently discovered a massive jade deposit. She was a 'new' noble with no family connections and no political backing.
“A weak woman with a single child,” the Marquis smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “She’ll be easy enough to break. A little intimidation, a few 'accidents' in the town, and perhaps a kidnapping to ensure her cooperation. She’ll hand over the mining rights just to keep her precious brat alive.”
***
I spent the morning inspecting the new drainage system near the village square.
Heard County was no longer the collection of mud huts I had found four years ago. It was a bustling, prosperous city. I had used my initial capital to build schools and hospitals, knowing that a healthy, educated workforce was more valuable than any gem. I had repaired the dams, lowered the grain taxes, and built a safety net for the elderly.
The people didn't just respect me; they loved me. They brought us fresh fruit, eggs, and bread every morning, not out of duty, but out of genuine affection.
“Damian, remember this,” I said as we walked through the market, Scone—our large, golden retriever—bounding ahead of us. “Everything has a price, and every effort has a value. We pay our residents for their gifts because their time is just as valuable as our gold.”
Damian nodded solemnly, though he was mostly distracted by the apple Scone had just dropped at his feet. “I know, Mummy! Everyone works hard!”
Janet approached us, her expression a mix of exhaustion and efficiency. She had spent the last five years as my shadow, my bodyguard, and my unofficial sister. She had been there when I screamed through the labor, and she had been the one to nurse Damian back to health when he had a fever.
“It’s time for lunch, my lady,” Janet said, smoothing her apron. “The young master needs his nap if we’re going to survive the afternoon lesson.”
“I don't need a nap!” Damian protested, though his eyes were already drooping.
Sardin stepped forward, swooping the boy up onto his shoulders. “I’ll take the Young Master back. He can 'patrol' the hallway with me until he falls asleep.”
“No! Jean was going to read me a story!” Damian laughed, reaching for Janet.
The two of them began their usual bickering over who got to spoil the boy. Over the years, the tension between them had softened into a strange, competitive family dynamic. I watched them, a small, fragile sense of peace settling over my heart.
I still kept my pistol in my desk, and I still checked the locks every night. I still had a small, nagging suspicion about the birds Janet sometimes watched in the garden. But as I looked at my son’s laughing face and the thriving city around us, I allowed myself a single, dangerous thought.
*I hope this peace lasts forever.*