Chapter 8

“What?”

Celia raised her head. Then Blake spoke in a confident voice.

“I’ll pay your lawyer’s retainer and cover all the litigation costs. How about that?”

“You’ll… support me? All the litigation expenses?”

“Yes. If you don’t like the idea of support, consider it a loan. Either way, Miss Lancaster, you can choose whichever you prefer.”

He was offering her the price of a house in the New Adams suburbs and telling her to choose?

Celia, dumbfounded, asked,

“Mr. Ryan, are you giving me charity?”

“Charity? Not at all. I simply wish to help you, Miss Lancaster.”

“Why? Why do you want to help someone you barely know?”

“Does one need a reason to help a lady in distress?”

Blake replied with his usual polite smile. It was a perfectly gentlemanly answer, but his voice didn’t carry sincerity.

Celia looked at Blake quietly. But there was no hint of his intentions in those green eyes. His smile was solid, his gaze cool. He was like a rose window made of opaque glass, and Celia felt she could never see what was hidden behind its beauty.

In the end, Celia stopped thinking about it. With no money, no power, and nothing to offer, there was no point in seeking an answer.

“Mr. Ryan. I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl.”

Celia smiled calmly and spoke.

“I’m old enough to know that no one offers kindness for no reason.”

“Kindness for no reason?”

“I appreciate your generous offer, but it’s alright. I have nothing to give you in return.”

Celia slowly bowed her head as she finished. It was as clear a refusal as possible.

“…….”

This time, it was Blake’s turn to gaze quietly at Celia.

Between her ebony hair and black mourning dress, her exposed nape looked especially pale. Like snow shining in winter moonlight. Like a cotton blossom budding on a bare branch. Her slender neck was so proud that, after watching her for a long time, Blake finally let out a small laugh.

“You have nothing to give… Do you even know what I want?”

At those words, Celia looked up. The man, now wearing a much more mischievous smile, gazed at her and said,

“That’s right. I do want something. And it’s something only you can give me.”

“Mr. Ryan.”

“But since you don’t even ask what it is, I don’t have the courage to tell you.”

“What are you talking about…!”

“So let’s end it here for today.”

Just as Celia, unable to listen anymore, tried to stand, Blake cut her off with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps I was too hasty. If I offended you, I apologize.”

He took off his hat and bowed deeply. Such a polite apology left Celia unable to stay angry.

“But my offer to help is sincere.”

As Celia awkwardly sat down again, Blake spoke with genuine warmth.

“I don’t particularly like the Evans family, either.”

“You… don’t like the Evans family?”

“Yes. You know well how people like them treat people like me.”

Blake moved his ankle. Celia looked at the loafers on his slim ankle and understood.

The Evans family, representing the old money of the New World, openly looked down on the newly rich who were rising through oil, coal, and railroads. Not only did they withhold invitations to the New Year’s party, they wouldn’t give them seats in social clubs or opera boxes. When they did include them, it was only when they needed money—like for bazaars or land deals. But once business was done, they’d lock the door and claim to be out whenever the new rich tried to visit.

“So, you won’t mind if I give you some advice?”

Blake grinned and puffed himself up in an exaggerated gesture.

“I’m second to none when it comes to bargaining.”

Celia let out a small laugh at that.

“Alright. Advice rooted in true friendship is always welcome.”

Advice from Blake Ryan, the leading businessman of the New World, would be invaluable in dealing with a Fifth Avenue lawyer.

Seeing Celia’s expression relax, Blake leaned in.

“Miss Lancaster, do you know the best way to negotiate a lower price?”

“What is it?”

“Bluffing.”

He grinned as he spoke.

“Act like you’re extremely wealthy and have plenty of time. Make it clear you’re in control of the deal.”

Celia was stunned.

“But… what if that’s not the case?”

“That’s why you bluff. You have to signal to Grenville that you have plenty of other options.”

“How? Should I hire an actor?”

“Well, that’s one way, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Hiring an actor would cost fifty dastals a day, and lawyers like Grenville, who are rough around the edges, are very perceptive. They won’t be fooled by poor acting, and if you get caught, you’ll only look ridiculous.”

“Then what should I do?”

Celia unconsciously leaned forward. Blake, as if he’d been waiting for this, smiled with his eyes.

“If it were me, I’d put out an ad for a lawyer.”

“An ad?”

“Yes. That’ll only cost thirty dastals a week. And you might even find a really good lawyer.”

“But no one will respond. I’m…”

Celia swallowed and continued,

“I’m Celia Lancaster, the woman who killed her husband.”

Just saying her infamous nickname hurt her heart. But Blake only shrugged.

“That’s exactly why I think you’ll get a great response.”

“What do you mean…?”

“You have the Lancaster name and that ‘husband-killer’ nickname.”

His tone, mentioning her nickname, almost sounded cheerful.

“The law offices you contacted are all on the Upper Side, right? But New Adams City is two hundred thousand acres wide. There’s an upper class, a lower class, and a middle class in between. Just like this coffee house.”

Blake gestured at the people in the café.

“Upper Side lawyers don’t want to get involved in such a messy fight, but Middle Side and Lower Side lawyers are different. If you just go a little further down, you’ll find plenty of people ready to roll up their sleeves and jump in.”

“There are really that many?”

“Yes. This is Lancaster versus Evans, isn’t it? Just being part of this trial would be a brilliant addition to any lawyer’s career.”

“Oh.”

He was right. Celia had lived in New Adams for a long time. But the only places she’d ever been were mansions on the Upper Side or the hotel on 33rd Street. All the law offices she’d visited were on the Upper Side too—the ones she knew, the ones her friends like Daniel Wilcox had introduced her to.

But law offices weren’t only on the Upper Side. Just like this café, there must be places all over New Adams selling excellent chocolate cake at affordable prices.

‘But will it really be alright?’

Just finding the courage to visit a Fifth Avenue law office had been hard enough.

‘People already shun me as the woman who killed her husband, and now I’m supposed to put out an ad for a lawyer?’

Celia was afraid people would say she’d hit rock bottom.

‘What would Father say if he found out?’

He’d throw a fit, no doubt. He hadn’t even allowed her to file a lawsuit, so he’d never let her get away with putting out an ad.

Blake, as if he could read her thoughts, said,

“What you need isn’t money, Miss Lancaster.”

Then he offered a gentle smile.

“It’s courage.”

***

[Lawyer Wanted!

Seeking an attorney specializing in inheritance lawsuits.

Inquiries to 101, 37th Street, Langford Street, Attn: Celia Lancaster.]

Celia swallowed as she opened the morning paper.

‘My name is really in an ad.’

Two weeks ago, even when she sent the ad request to the newspaper, she was nervous. She’d worried the paper would reject her, too. But that was needless fear. Thirty dastals a week. No newspaper would turn down an advertiser who paid on time.

And today, in the personal ads section of the New Adams Times, Celia Lancaster’s name was printed in bold. Right in the very first column!

‘A storm is coming soon.’

Just as Celia, tense, lifted her teacup—

“Celiaaaaaaaa!”

As expected, an angry shout rang out.