Within the Viremont estate, Mirabel and her family were already waiting for Penelope’s arrival.

"Why isn’t she here yet?" Mirabel asked before turning to her parents, her fingers nervously toying with the lace of her cuffs. "...Are we certain she’s still coming?"

"Of course she is," Genevieve replied smoothly, crossing one elegant leg over the other as leaned back against the plush velvet sofa. A smug, complacent smile played on her lips. "The gifting ceremony must take place. After all, we deserve those gifts for all the years we sacrificed in raising her. I’m just curious as to what magnificent treasures she’ll bring us in exchange for the inheritance. Now that she is married to the Marquis, she owes us this much for our years of endurance."

"Yes," Baron James agreed, nodding with a heavy sense of entitlement. He adjusted his ring fingers, looking entirely satisfied with the trap he had laid. "If she wants the inheritance, then she’ll have to offer up something of equal value for it."

He looked at Mirabel. "You’re still her younger sister, regardless of whatever mistakes you might have committed. As the eldest daughter, she should naturally have your best interest in mind."

Mirabel, however, found that difficult to believe.

As her parents babbled on about what they believed they were owed, a cold knot of dread slowly tightened in Mirabel’s stomach.

Not once in her entire life had she been a good sister to Penelope.

Instead, she had spent her childhood trying to steal every ounce of attention from her. She had belittled her, mocked her behind closed doors, stolen her friends, maliciously framed her for her own misdeeds just to ensure Penelope would face their father’s harsh wrath. And worse, she had stolen the only man her sister truly loved from her.

Her parents were still treating Penelope like the same naive, desperate girl they could manipulate. But Mirabel had seen the chilling, unbothered look in Penelope’s eyes on her wedding day.

If anything, Penelope would not be bringing gifts to please them. She would be coming to destroy them instead.

"Baron!" One of the estate guards burst into the parlor. "Lady Penelope has arrived, but... she’s heading straight to the treasury vault."

"The treasury?!" The Baron rose immediately to his feet. Beside him, Genevieve snapped upright, her face tightening with instant suspicion. "Why is she going there? Isn’t she meant to greet us in the parlor first?"

"She has definitely grown a spine," Mirabel muttered, her eyes flashing with venom as she looked at her father. "You must deal with her immediately, Father. She is your still daughter, yet she dares to disrespect you so openly. Surely you do not intend to let such insolence slide?"

Baron James’s expression twisted into a mask of pure fury, and he stormed out of the parlor. Genevieve and Mirabel exchanged a tense glance before quickly following after him.

Once the room was entirely empty, Mirelda quietly peeked out from the shadow of the curtains at the far corner of the room. She darted her eyes left and right, ensuring the coast was completely clear, though her pounding heart refused to settle. Clutching the leather bag tightly against her chest, she slipped out of the room, heading in the exact opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Penelope stood with her hands folded elegantly behind her back, her posture a picture of calm authority while the elite Aelgard guards broke down the heavy oak doors leading to the treasury vault. With a resounding, splintering crash, the wood gave way.

The moment the path was clear, Penelope raised a single, gloved hand, signaling for the guards to halt. Stepping past the shattered frame, the hem of her gown swept over the debris as she walked into the vault. She expected to see chests of gold, treasured family heirlooms, and the locked iron box containing her mother’s personal ledger and land deeds

Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The vault was entirely hollow.

Penelope looked around the dimly lit stone chamber, her brows drawing together as her eyes scanned the barren shelves. Dust outlines marked the spot where heavy chests and valuable artifacts used to sit, but now, only cobwebs remained. Even the pedestal where the most sacred family documents were kept stood abandoned and bare.

A cold, mocking breeze seemed to echo through the empty room.

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing left.

A slow, dangerous smile pulled at the corner of Penelope’s lips, though her eyes remained ice-cold. She turned back toward the entrance just as the furious shouting of Baron James began to echo through the corridors of the inner courtyard.

As soon as she stepped out of the broken doorway, she came face-to-face with her father, Genevieve and Mirabel. All three of them wore identical looks of smug satisfaction, as though they had fully anticipated she would do something like this and were delighted to have caught her in the act.

Mirabel simply eyed Penelope, her gaze raking over the luxurious, shimmering layers of the sapphire gown and the ropes of flawless pearls.

A toxic wave of envy twisted inside her.

She absolutely hated it.

She hated seeing Penelope like this.

Wasn’t the ruthless Marquis supposed to be tormenting her? Then why did she look so radiant? So untouchable?

The evidence of his wealth and doting care was painfully obvious for all to see, and it burned.

"Father, Mother," Penelope began, her smooth, elegant address sounding entirely mocking to their ears. "I had a feeling you would not be particularly eager to see my face,so I decided to retrieve what rightfully belongs to me. But it seems the treasury has been emptied. I can only assume some filthy rat found its way inside."

Baron Jame’s face darkened instantly.

"You have some guts coming back here and causing a scene," Mirabel snapped, stepping forward with her chin held high. "Isn’t this visit meant to be your gifting ceremony? Even after you managed to marry the Marquis of Aelgard, you’re still coveting more wealth? Have you no shame? We are your family!"

"Mind your tone when addressing the Marchioness," Elias snapped, the sheer intensity of his words making Mirabel flinch back. He glared purposefully at the master of the house. "Baron, control your daughter and teach her where her place lies before the elite guards are forced to do it for her instead."

"No, Elias, it’s fine," Penelope said smoothly, raising a gloved hand to let the captain know she could handle this herself.

She turned her gaze back to her family, looking entirely unbothered. "I want them to talk. They clearly have a lot to say to me after all this time, and I want to hear every single word of it."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Go on. Do continue."

"Are you mocking us?" Her father’s anger only spiked at her indifferent reaction, his face flushing a dangerous shade of crimson.

"Mocking?" Penelope scoffed, the sound sharp and devoid of warmth. "The only thing I find mocking, Father, is the fact that I am sharing a blood with this household. You expect me to feel ashamed? For what exactly? For wanting to take back my rightful property? Like father, like daughter, I suppose. After all, are you not the man who happily swallowed the wealth of a woman you personally cast aside, despite everything she’s done for you? Clearly, no one in this household is capable of shame."

Her gaze swept over him slowly.

"Or are you not desperate for coins?" she asked lightly. "You know I can give it to you. You just need to go on your knees and beg for it."

"Penelope!" Genevieve snapped, her veneer of aristocratic perfection fracturing as she stepped forward, her eyes wide with outrage. "Have you completely forgotten your manners? That is your father you are speaking to!"

"Yes, I know," Penelope replied, tilting her head, her brown eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "I am not blind, step-mother. But... I also don’t remember inviting a whore to join this conversation, so do try not to interrupt me again."

The inner courtyard went deathly still. The elite guards subtly reached for their swords should the Baron command his guards to attack, but everyone was clearly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of the Marchioness.

"I know they are still somewhere around this estate," Penelope said, taking a deliberate step forward. "Legally, you cannot touch them. So, where did you move my mother’s things before I actually do start to cause a scene?"

"T-There’s... there’s nothing here left for you," Mirabel bit back, though her voice lacked its previous venom, wavering with a sudden undercurrent of fear. "So just get out of here!"

Penelope stopped. She looked at her sister, then at her parents, a chillingly calm expression settling over her features. "You obviously think I’m joking, right? I attempted to handle this with civility, but I should have known better."

Before anyone could guess her next move, Penelope turned toward the side of the courtyard. Everyone, including her own elite guards, instinctively backed away as she reached down toward a chopping block and wrapped her gloved fingers around the handle of an abandoned short axe.

Hefting the heavy iron tool with surprising ease, she turned back to face her family. The sapphire silk of her gown rustled elegantly as she stepped toward them, lifting the axe and pointing the sharp blade directly at their faces.

"Ahhh!! What are you doing?!"

Baron James, Genevieve, and Mirabel scrambled backward in a panicked, uncoordinated flurry, nearly tripping over one another as she swung the axe.

"Will you take me seriously now? Where is it?" Penelope demanded. She had exhausted every ounce of patience she had left for them.

Behind her, Elias and Martha watched the spectacle unfold in utter disbelief. Martha’s usually expressionless face cracked just a bit, her eyes widening in genuine surprise as she watched the Marchioness go at them.

"Did you know she was crazy?" Elias whispered under his breath to Martha, his eyes glued to the axe in the Marchioness’s hands.

Martha’s lips curled subtly, and with unmistakable pride, she merely shrugged.