Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma-Chapter 156: We will test her

The storm that had rumbled in the distance now poured over the palace roofs, muffling all but the hurried whispers exchanged beneath cloaks and over candlelit desks. In one of the lower rooms of the estate, Samuel stood guard outside Lucien’s study, unusually tense. Inside, the air hung heavy with the residue of the day’s court session.

Lucien leaned over the large map spread across the table. Red pins marked Petra. Black thread traced trade routes from the outer provinces. And over it all, a newly added name, written in Liora’s graceful script, ’Elena Virelles,’ now sat beside several names long assumed irrelevant.

Liora sat opposite him, still dressed in the gown from the court, her back straight despite exhaustion clinging to her like a second skin.

"You didn’t have to defend me," she said quietly, her fingers clasped on her lap.

"I did," Lucien replied. He didn’t look at her.

Silence stretched.

She broke it. "You believe me now?"

"I believe," he said, pausing before lifting his eyes to hers, "that you’re not here by your own design. But you’ve chosen to remain. That’s what matters now."

His words were cautious, but they carried weight. For once, Liora didn’t deflect or shrink from them. She nodded.

"And what of Petra?" she asked.

Lucien turned back to the map. "If Petra was used to launder funds or hold prisoners, as your mother’s letters suggest, we’ll need access to more than royal archives. Someone high up was either orchestrating this or deliberately looking away."

"And you think it’s Lilian?"

"I think," he said, "Lilian’s power rests on the silence of the past. Yours threatens that."

Before Liora could reply, Rowan entered, soaked at the shoulders.

"We have a problem," Rowan said grimly. "There was a messenger caught at the southern post near the stables. Said he was headed to the outer territories with a sealed scroll."

Lucien straightened. "From whom?"

"He wouldn’t say. But the seal..." Rowan pulled a damp parchment from his inner coat. "It’s Marenne’s. The treasurer."

Lucien snatched it from him, eyeing the broken wax. "She’s reaching out. Either to cover her tracks... or warn someone else."

"Should we intercept all outgoing messages from the court?" Rowan asked.

Lucien considered. "Do it quietly. Don’t make them panic. And send a shadow toward the Western regions to see if anything’s stirring."

Rowan nodded and vanished as swiftly as he came.

Left again in the dim room, Lucien ran a hand through his hair.

Liora stood and moved closer to the map, her eyes scanning the tangled threads. "They’ll try to silence me, won’t they?"

"They’ll try," Lucien murmured. "But I won’t let them."

She looked at him then, eyes catching the flicker of his conviction.

Outside, thunder cracked again.

And somewhere far from the estate, a rider galloped hard toward the coastal borders carrying not just a warning but instructions to awaken a name even Alden thought long erased from the kingdom’s history. A noble whose allegiance had once been questioned. A ghost. A man exiled not by law but by blood.

Everything was moving now.

And no one was truly safe.

Rain hadn’t ceased for hours. The storm had grown so heavy the lanterns lining the estate walls flickered, hissing under the weight of water. Lucien stood near the open window, the map still behind him, though now abandoned. His eyes were sharp, fixed on the darkness beyond the glass as if expecting something or someone.

Inside the room, the candlelight cast flickering shadows across the walls. Liora was still present, her hands warm from the fire but her mind restless. She leaned slightly against the table, staring at the trail Lucien had marked, her voice low, "You think they’ll come for you... or for me?"

Lucien didn’t answer at first. When he did, his voice was clipped. "Both. But they’ll come for you first."

Liora turned toward him, confused.

"You’re not a threat," he said coldly, "you’re a symbol. And symbols are always struck down before they become too loud."

Her lips parted slightly in protest, but no words followed.

A knock came at the door.

Lucien didn’t move. "Enter."

Samuel stepped in, removing his soaked gloves. "They found the messenger’s second contact. He’s in the dungeons. Says the message wasn’t meant for Petra."

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Then where?"

"The border. Near the Aronne province. Someone’s being pulled in. Possibly from outside."

Liora stepped forward. "Do you think this has to do with the other nations?"

Samuel hesitated. "Could be. Or someone within our court trying to seek outside protection."

Lucien’s expression turned unreadable.

Liora pressed, "That woman today... Elena Virelles. She’s from the merchant families. And she asked about the taxes from the southern regions too. Is it possible...?"

"That she’s connected?" Lucien interrupted. "Possible. But she’s also loud. Too loud for someone trying to hide."

He paced to the center of the room, his boots echoing.

"We’ll test her. If she’s just a pawn, she’ll fold. If not..." His voice trailed.

A servant rushed in this time, face pale. "My lord...Lady Beatrice requests your presence. She says it concerns something she overheard near the archives."

Lucien’s brow furrowed. "What archives?"

"She won’t say. Only that it’s urgent. And she insists Lady Liora should hear it too."

Liora’s eyes met Lucien’s.

This wasn’t a game anymore. Beatrice wasn’t someone who acted out of impulse.

Lucien nodded. "Tell her I’m coming."

As the servant left, Lucien turned to Liora. "Whatever happens next... be silent, observe. Don’t speak unless spoken to."

She nodded.

The corridor was quiet as they walked. The storm had moved to a drizzle, but the tension in the halls remained thick, as if the walls themselves knew secrets were unraveling.

And somewhere ahead, Beatrice waited, perhaps not just with a message, but a warning that would split the loyalties of the estate once more.

Whatever she had heard... it was going to change something

The corridor twisted downward into older stone, lit sparsely by mounted torches. The deeper they went, the more silent it grew until even the sound of their footsteps seemed reluctant to echo.

Liora’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. Lucien walked ahead, his stride unhurried but tense. His hand rested near the hilt of his blade, a habit that surfaced only when he didn’t trust what or who awaited.

They stopped at a rusted iron door guarded by two silent knights. One knocked twice.

A key turned from within, and the door groaned open.

Beatrice stood by an old wooden table, a thick leather-bound register opened before her. Her brows were furrowed, and she didn’t glance up until both Lucien and Liora stepped in.

"You took long enough," Beatrice muttered.

Lucien’s jaw twitched. "Get to the point."

Beatrice gestured to the book. "I overheard a clerk whispering to someone at the scribe’s post two nights ago. At first, I didn’t pay mind; it sounded like personal gossip. But he mentioned your name, Lord Lucien, along with ’Petra,’ and then said something about ’preparation before the seal breaks.’ That phrase made me listen."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. "And this book?"

"It’s a ledger. A shipment log. Someone’s been ordering supplies not in your name, but from your estate’s account. And these shipments... they’re not for food or medicine."

Liora leaned forward, reading. "Spikes? Armor fragments? Smoke powder?" Her voice wavered.

"Warfare materials," Lucien said grimly. "But Petra hasn’t seen conflict in a decade."

Beatrice closed the book and folded her arms. "It gets worse. The signature used? It’s from the royal council. Someone above you has sanctioned this."

Lucien processed the words, his gaze tightening. "Then it’s not just me being watched. It’s a setup."

Beatrice nodded. "You were never meant to find this. But now you have."

Liora looked between the two, a chill creeping up her spine. "So... someone from the palace is arming a rebellion here? Against you?"

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the sealed wax insignia on the ledger’s corner. It wasn’t Alden’s nor the Queen Dowager’s.

No, this was someone else.

"Seal this place. No one enters but us three," Lucien ordered. "And get Samuel here. We’ll cross-reference handwriting."

Beatrice stepped aside. "There’s more. A name was scribbled in the margins of one of the earlier pages, likely missed in a cleanup..."Caldrien.’"

Lucien blinked. That was a name not spoken in years.

Caldrien was a province lost to the north after the war.

The pieces were coming together and not in a way he liked.

He turned to Liora. "You wanted to know what lies at the heart of this kingdom? You’re about to find out."

Liora didn’t flinch.

Because for the first time, she realized she was no longer a pawn in someone else’s game.

She was walking right into the storm.

The estate had turned unnervingly quiet since Lucien’s return. Every guard’s eyes carried suspicion, and the hallways whispered secrets beneath cloaks of stone and silence.

Lucien sat alone in the map room, the flickering lantern casting shadows over the parchment spread before him. His fingers traced the old borders of Caldrien, his eyes not seeing the lines but the memories etched in blood and fire.

Samuel entered without a word, closing the door behind him.

"I heard from Beatrice," he said. "She showed me the ledger."

Lucien nodded. "And?"

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