Chapter 28

The audience stirred at the confident attitude.

“My goodness, was the will really forged?”

“Did the prestigious Evans family really do something so underhanded?”

Grenville, quick to sense the shift, drove in the wedge.

“It takes at least a month to revise and notarize a will. So it’s clear Charles Evans’s will was forged.”

He shouted to the jury.

“Please take this into account when making your verdict. Don’t let Lady Celia, who suffered all her married life only to be cast out, become even more miserable!”

But the opposing lawyer, Thomas Harris, was not easy to defeat.

“Everyone, we must think again. What matters most when executing a will?”

With a tie so tight it looked suffocating, he addressed the audience.

“Is it outdated procedure or the deceased’s true intentions?”

The audience’s brows twitched at his words.

“Yes, the will Mr. Santines brought is not fake. But Mr. Charles Evans came to me for legal advice two weeks before his death. He sincerely asked what steps were needed to change his will.”

Two weeks before his death? So Charles Evans did try to change his will?

The audience murmured.

“In other words, Charles Evans did not want to give the hotel to Celia Lancaster. It’s only natural—he was hurt by his wife’s flirtations and exhausted by her betrayal!”

Some in the audience shed tears at his eloquent speech.

“Oh, poor Charles Evans.”

“Yes, Celia Lancaster didn’t deserve the inheritance after all.”

“Right, he just didn’t have time to follow proper procedures. We should respect the deceased’s will.”

Miguel Santines clicked his tongue from the witness stand.

‘This won’t do.’

He’d come to court hoping for a payoff, but all he felt was defeat.

‘As expected of the Evans family, rulers of New World society. Hiring a lawyer so skilled at swaying a jury.’

Miguel Santines recalled the day before Charles Evans died. The reckless young man, mouth covered in white froth, trembling as he came to borrow money for the last time.

‘M-Mr. Santines. P-please, give me ‘that’…! I’ll give you all the money I have, just ‘that’…!’

He knew. If he testified about that day, the tide would turn instantly. But he couldn’t do that. Santines Company’s new business was an even greater crime than loan sharking, and he couldn’t reveal it.

‘I’ll have to retreat.’

Miguel sank deep into the witness chair.

As the audience’s uproar wouldn’t subside, the judge shouted.

“Recess! Ten-minute recess!”

＊  ＊  ＊

Back in the waiting room, Miguel Santines spoke abruptly.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I testified to the best of my ability. I said everything you told me to.”

He knew he was being overly sensitive, but couldn’t help it. He wanted the trial to end so he could leave the courthouse.

But Celia just looked at Miguel Santines quietly. She spoke in a calm tone.

“Mr. Santines. You’re hiding something else about Charles, aren’t you?”

“Hiding something? What do you mean?”

“Charles didn’t just come to you for money, did he?”

“What nonsense are you talking about? Why else would he come to me if not for money…!”

Does she know something?

Miguel Santines shouted loudly, trying to cover his nerves.

“Say what you want, Miss Lancaster. Don’t dance around it!”

Celia whispered to him.

“…Are you serious? You want me to talk about that?”

Miguel Santines asked, stunned.

“If I say it, you’ll be even more… embarrassed than now.”

“It’s fine. I have nothing left to protect.”

Celia nodded without hesitation.

“What? What are you saying? Miss Lancaster, now what…!”

Grenville belatedly intervened.

Then the judge’s voice announced the end of recess.

“Really… You ask for everything.”

Miguel Santines grumbled as he returned to the witness stand. He looked at Thomas Harris and spoke.

“Yes. If Mr. Evans truly loved his wife, you might be right.”

“What?”

“But if he really loved her, he wouldn’t have secretly pawned her jewelry.”

“What?”

He recalled Celia’s whisper.

‘Did Charles ever entrust you with anything as collateral? Like a ring.’

“Especially…”

He pointed to a section of the debt ledger with his plump hand.

“The wedding ring.”

＊  ＊  ＊

Public opinion flipped in an instant. The claim that ‘Charles Evans truly loved Celia Lancaster’ was exposed as a lie, and Thomas Harris’s argument lost its force.

“You did wonderfully!”

Grenville raised his glass with a bright face.

“I knew it from the start. Miss Lancaster, you aren’t ordinary! There aren’t many on 33rd Street who can bargain with a Fifth Avenue lawyer like that.”

Celia smiled shyly.

She wasn’t sure when the wedding ring had been switched for a fake. But when she saw the thickness of the debt ledger Miguel Santines brought, she guessed Charles must have secretly sold off the mansion’s jewels. She asked just in case—and there really was something. It was pure luck.

“It’s all thanks to you and Mr. Ryan for helping me.”

Blake quietly set down his glass.

“All that’s left is to win. The jury’s verdict will come in the next trial.”

He added,

“I’ll be in the audience for the next trial. Since it’s the last day, I need to make sure nothing unexpected happens.”

‘Unexpected accident?’ Will it end safely? 

Celia gave a faint smile, feeling uneasy.

Grenville asked,

“Shouldn’t you contact the Lancaster family? If your family comes to support you, public opinion will be much better.”

Celia shook her head firmly.

“That won’t happen.”

If they wanted to come, they already would have. 

Celia’s trial was being reported in detail, so it would be easy for them to know when and where it was happening.

“If they really wanted to support me, they’d send Betty or a servant with a message. Since there’s nothing, my father is still on the Evans side.”

“Hmm… Nothing we can do.”

Grenville shrugged, stroking his goat-like beard. Even though he acted tough and stingy outside, he loved his wife and daughter dearly, so he couldn’t understand such behavior.

Blake gently suggested,

“Let’s start the meal. You must be hungry, please eat plenty.”

A lavish dinner was served on the round table. Blue-spotted oysters and truffle-flavored soup, roasted wild pigeon with chopped orange peel, and grilled mountain goat with turnip purée—Chef Tom’s skill was on full display.

“It’s delicious! I’ve never had such fine food!”

Grenville emptied his plate, excitedly gulping wine.

“Tom’s cooking has improved.”

Blake’s compliment made the butler Sebastian shrug.

“It’s all thanks to Miss Lancaster.”

“Is that so?”

“Tom likes it. He can order premium ingredients he never got to handle before.”

It was true. Since Celia arrived, the house changed noticeably. The chef was busy every day, the butler sweated often serving, and Blake mentioned hiring another footman.

“Miss Lancaster, do you need another maid?”

“Oh, no. Connie is doing very well.”

“But the housework has increased, and she looks busy. Is it enough service?”

“Then… hiring a part-time laundry maid might not be bad.”

As they talked, Celia felt like she was the lady of the house.

‘Ordinary couples must spend evenings like this.’

It was a time she never had in her two marriages. She’d never discussed household matters with her husband, nor shared dinner more than a few times.

‘I dreamed of this kind of marriage…’

A small picture formed in Celia’s mind.

A cozy dining room, a simple vase on the table, a couple dining together, a gentle smile as he looked at her…

‘Goodness, get a hold of yourself, Celia Lancaster.’

Startled, Celia quickly regained her composure.

‘No way. This is… really disrespectful to Mr. Ryan!’

Celia shook her flushed face, thinking.

Blake Ryan was an unmarried, wealthy man. Even as the governor’s daughter, she had no right to covet him after two marriages. Especially now, cast out and of no value.