04

A couple of days later, I sent an invitation to Tristan Devereaux, only to be told he wasn't available.

After making a few discreet inquiries, I learned that he was on a directive from the President, touring impoverished areas in the South.

It seemed he wouldn't have time to worry about his own house being on fire for a while.

As for Shane Gentry, he kept a low profile after moving in.

Other than clinging to Juniper day in and day out, he showed absolutely no intention of going out to earn any money.

Bored, I had my people run a thorough background check on this so-called man from a "good family."

The results were... impressive.

His father was a former high-level congressional advisor who, during the previous administration, had been involved in a treasonous scandal.

He had failed to switch allegiances in time and was subsequently cast out of Washington, with a permanent, unwritten decree that his descendants were never to hold public office.

A political pariah.

In the rigid hierarchy of this world, Shane Gentry was doomed to a life of mediocrity.

"Ma'am, the Kingmaker is here," my head maid rushed in, her face pale. "Magnus Devereaux himself. He looks... furious. He's not here for a friendly visit."

The tea I was sipping went down the wrong way. I coughed, wiping my mouth hastily. "Prepare the finest tea. And polish the floors. Make sure the spot where I'll be groveling is spotless."

"...Yes, Ma'am." My maid, bless her, was efficient.

By the time everything was ready, Magnus Devereaux had already swept in, entourage in tow, carrying a case of what looked like extremely expensive wine.

I rose with my most charming smile, immediately relieving a servant of the case and opening it.

Inside lay a collection of rare Bordeaux futures, shimmering under the light. There was also a platinum box of vintage Cuban cigars and a first-edition book signed by a long-dead poet.

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Magnus, you really shouldn't have. You make it seem like we're strangers."

"Nonsense. It's only right that family looks out for family," Magnus said, his eyes sharp and his tone layered with meaning.

Alright, the test had begun.

Hearing his words, I slowly closed the case.

"My Juniper must have been blessed for eight lifetimes to have caught the eye of the Devereaux family," I began, pressing a hand to my chest in a gesture of pure, heartbroken anguish. "But now... she's been bewitched by some scoundrel. Insists she won't marry anyone else."

"Oh?" Magnus drawled, gliding past me to take the seat at the head of the table—my seat. "And what does the family intend to do about it?"

He elegantly lifted the teacup that had been prepared for me, blowing on the steam, his posture radiating arrogant power.

"Will you indulge your daughter's whim? Or will you allow my son to have the woman he was promised?"

Magnus was utterly composed, even taking a moment to study my expression.

Seeing my pained look only seemed to amuse him more.

"The Devereaux family chose your daughter. Don't push your luck," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Or I will have the President issue a decree and charge you with breach of contract and perjury!"

He slammed his hand on the table. The sudden bang was so powerful it nearly made my knees buckle.