Logan’s desk was buried under documents he had reviewed countless times.

Financial reports from the Rosedale Orphanage and the Everett family were scattered among the additional materials he had requested personally, alongside stacks of old local newspapers. Though the papers differed in size and font, they all bore the same signs of repeated handling: frayed edges, softened corners, and small tears where the pages had started to tear.

Logan was preparing to break off the engagement.

No one knew.

Not the House of Everett. Not even Vincent. Not his mother.

However, before taking that step, there was something he needed to confirm beyond all doubt. The engagement was not ending for that reason alone, but he would need an irrefutable justification when the time came to explain his decision.

The documents spread across his desk would determine everything.

He unfolded an old local newspaper once more.

Count Everett suspected of embezzling regional development funds. Unsavoury rumors also claimed that he had been seen frequenting a gambling hall.

The article had been published by a small paper that no longer existed. Not long after printing the article, the publication collapsed under financial strain and the allegation faded into obscurity, unverified and unresolved.

But Logan was not studying the accusations in the article.

His gaze lingered on the date it had been printed.

This was around the time that the orphanage began receiving an unusually large number of donations.

“…For a coincidence, the timing is remarkably convenient.”

Rumors that Count Everett had developed a gambling habit had circulated for years.

While these rumors were not widely discussed within aristocratic circles, they were hardly a secret in Rosedale. The townspeople spoke of them in lowered voices, yet everyone was aware of them.

Some even whispered that the lord had diverted funds intended for the territory to pay off mounting gambling debts, thereby postponing repairs to public facilities that were already falling into disrepair.

Then, almost as if by silent agreement, the rumors disappeared overnight.

The railway station, infamous for accidents caused by its crumbling structure, suddenly underwent reconstruction. Other deteriorating facilities, which had been a persistent source of complaint and danger, were scheduled for repair one after another.

The source of the funding was never disclosed.

Yet the name attached to the expenditure in the official records was Countess Everett.

Logan wrote down every keyword that came to mind. He traced connections, circled dates and underlined patterns.

Then, suddenly, a single hypothesis began to take shape.

“A count who squandered the territory’s funds through gambling… borrowed money from the Duke of Fraser under the name of ‘donations,’ and repaid his debts…”

The words left him quietly and decisively.

It was not an impossible story. From the outset, the orphanage had been established for the Countess’s personal purposes.

However, the missing orphanage ledgers made them unreliable. His father’s ledger contained only figures, with no explanations. There was not enough evidence to confirm anything.

‘If so… then why did Father lend money to the count?’

His father was not one to offer his support without reason.

Every decision he made was deliberate, measured and calculated. He had raised Logan to be no different.

A man like that would not donate under an alias without reason. Yet there was no visible outcome or traceable impact of the donation.

Nowhere.

It was possible that records had once existed, but had been lost among the documents destroyed in the fire. However, even after an exhaustive search and combing through every surviving file multiple times, Logan found nothing.

Not a shred of evidence. And still, another question lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

‘If Father truly gave the Everett family a vast sum of money… why have they kept it hidden all this time?’

It made even less sense once the Count’s finances had recovered. If the transaction had truly been as substantial as the records suggested, remaining silent would only serve to further erode trust.

Logan stared at the documents before him.

The fire at the Fraser estate.

The Count’s visit to the manor that very night.

The donation made around the same time.

Could it all really be nothing more than a coincidence?

The fragments of information, once scattered like broken shards, were beginning to align. Slowly, they formed the outline of a pattern. Yet the edges remained blurred. There was still no definitive proof.

His father was gone. There was no one left to question, no one who could confirm or deny the truth.

This frustrated Logan the most.

Still, one thing was clear: Every thread led back to a single person.

If someone had deliberately buried the truth, there must be a reason. When the truth finally surfaced, it could cause irreparable damage to his relationship with the Everetts. His friendship with Vincent might never recover either.

Nevertheless, Logan did not stop.

It was too late to feign ignorance. He had gone too far to turn back.

***

As the courtroom battle between Jack Hunter and the Duke of Fraser raged on, whispers about the woman at the center of it all began to circulate.

The Duke of Fraser’s legal team insisted on protecting her identity, refusing to release any details. However, this secrecy only fueled society’s curiosity. The more closely her identity was guarded, the more determined people became to uncover it.

Rumors circulated that the duke had hidden her away in a hotel in the capital. Some even claimed that he was neglecting his official duties just to visit her.

Some claimed that she was the illegitimate daughter of a noble family. Others insisted that she must be a spy sent by a neighboring nation.

With every retelling, her identity shifted and was reshaped by speculation and distorted by imagination.

Throughout this time, Logan remained silent. He did not deny the rumors. He didn’t even acknowledge the woman by his side.

Though no official article had been published, rumors about Fraser spread quietly and insidiously through high society, passing from drawing room to drawing room amid lowered voices and knowing glances.

That afternoon, Scarlett Fraser returned to the manor after attending a tea gathering with the capital’s noblewomen. Her displeasure was impossible to miss.

Even the way she removed her coat in the foyer — handing it sharply to a waiting maid — was different.

Rebecca, who had accompanied her to the gathering, followed close behind.

“Aunt, please don’t be too upset. Lady Linderman admitted her mistake and apologized immediately, didn’t she?”

Rebecca tried to soothe Scarlett, whose displeasure was unmistakable.

“An apology?”

Scarlett turned sharply, her voice edged with anger.

“She brings up, in a public gathering no less, that Logan is cheating on his fiancée—and thinks a single apology settles it?”

The anger that had simmered throughout the carriage ride flared up again. Even now, the echoes of Lady Linderman’s careless repetition of the rumors about the Duke of Fraser as idle gossip still rang in her ears. The woman had only apologized once Scarlett had made her displeasure unmistakably clear.

“And to claim that the other woman is of low birth. What must they think of the Fraser family to dare speak so freely in front of me?”

Logan had never caused so much as a minor scandal. He was meticulous and disciplined — more so than anyone else. Although their engagement had lasted longer than originally intended, he had assured her that wedding preparations would begin soon.

And now?

He had been caught up in a violent incident involving a businessman named Jack Hunter. Even worse, rumors were spreading that he was hiding an unknown woman.

For Scarlett, who had lived her entire life bound by the dignity and expectations of nobility, this was an unmistakable insult.

“High society has always been like that. Sometimes absurd rumors circulate. It’s probably only because of the Jack Hunter case. It will pass.”

But Scarlett’s mood did not ease in the slightest.

“Why must he always involve himself in matters that have nothing to do with him, all in the name of some misplaced sense of justice?”

She pressed a hand to her throbbing temple and let out a long sigh.

“Do you know anything, Rebecca? You speak with Logan far more freely than I do.”

At this, Rebecca’s gaze wavered for a moment.

Logan had told her nothing. But she had her suspicions. She recognized the woman he was holding in his arms as they left the ballroom that night.

“I haven’t heard anything specific. You know what Logan is like. He acts as though he’s being honest, but when it comes to what truly matters, he leaves it unsaid.”

She forced the image from her mind.

Scarlett studied her with narrowed eyes, then shook her head.

There was only one solution.

She would have to ask Logan directly.

Scarlett sent word, summoning him to the estate.