Chapter 484 The War Had Already Started Again

Katia’s POV

The reception was long and loud and full of people who mattered. There was dancing. There was food. There was wine. Aiden fell asleep in a chair with his tie crooked and his ring box still in his lap. Clara woke up twice and was passed around like a small celebrity.

Delia danced with Noah. She laughed at something he said. She looked happy. I wanted to believe it. I did not believe it.

At the end of the night, when the guests were leaving and the gardens were lit with lanterns, I found her by the fountain. She was alone. Her emerald dress was still perfect. Her smile was still thin.

“You look beautiful,” she said.

“So do you.”

“I know.” She looked at the house. “It is a beautiful wedding. It is a beautiful life. I am happy for you.”

She said it like she was reading from a script.

“Delia.”

“I should go. Noah is waiting.”

She walked away before I could say anything else.

I watched her go, and I felt the twist in my chest again, and I did not know if it was love or warning.

Julian came up behind me and put his arms around my waist.

“You okay?”

“I am okay.”

“You do not look okay.”

“I am okay.”

He did not push. He never pushed when I said I was okay. He just held me, and the lanterns burned, and the garden was quiet, and for one night, the war felt very far away.

I did not know it yet, but the war had already started again.

Delia’s POV

The call came three days after the wedding.

I was in the kitchen, still in my robe, still pretending the weekend had been normal. Noah had gone out for coffee. The house was quiet in the way it always was when he left—like it was holding its breath.

My phone lit up.

Elliot.

I stared at the name for a long moment before I answered.

“Hello.”

“You looked beautiful at the wedding,” he said. “Emerald was the right choice. She looked like a bride. You looked like a threat.”

“I was trying to look like a threat.”

“I know. That is why I am calling.”

I sat down on the counter stool.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to do something small. Something easy. Something that will make you feel useful for the first time in years.”

“I am not doing anything illegal.”

“It is not illegal. It is information. That is all.”

“What kind of information?”

“Julian has a meeting next week. A private one. With a man named Aldous Crane. Crane runs a shipping company that has been trying to get into Windsor territory for two years. Julian has been refusing to meet him. Now he is meeting him.”

“So?”

“So I want to know what they discuss. Not the details. The shape. Whether it is a deal, a warning, or a trap. You will be at the estate that day. You will find a way to be near the study. You will listen. You will tell me what you hear.”

“That is spying.”

“That is being useful. There is a difference.”

I looked at the fridge. The wedding invitation was still there, tucked under a magnet. Katia’s name in black ink. Honour of your presence.

“And if I do this?”

“Then you start earning your place. Not as the extra. Not as the sister. As someone who matters.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you go back to being the woman who watches her sister get everything and does nothing about it.”

The silence stretched.

“When is the meeting?”

“Thursday. Two in the afternoon. You will be there by one thirty. You will find a reason to be in the east wing. The study door is usually open when Julian is expecting someone. You will not go in. You will listen from the hall.”

“And if someone sees me?”

“Then you are a sister visiting her family. That is all you are. That is all you have ever been.”

He hung up.

I sat there with the phone in my hand and felt something I had not felt in a long time. Not guilt. Not fear. Purpose.

For two years I had been the extra. The sister. The one who got the contract instead of the wedding. Now someone was asking me to do something that mattered, and the asking felt like being seen.

I put the phone down and went to get dressed.

Thursday came faster than I expected.

I drove to the estate at one fifteen. The gate opened before I reached it. Sam was not there. A man I did not recognize waved me through.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The staff moved like they knew something was happening and had been told not to talk about it.

I found a reason to be in the east wing. I told the housekeeper I was looking for a book I had left there months ago. She nodded and went back to her work.

The study door was open.

I stood in the hall, three steps from the doorway, and listened.

Julian’s voice came first. Low. Controlled. The voice he used when he was deciding whether to trust someone.

“You have been trying to get this meeting for two years, Crane. I am giving you one hour. Use it well.”

A second voice. Older. Rougher. “I appreciate that, Windsor. I will not waste it.”

“You will not. Because if you waste it, you will not get another one.”

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

This was it. This was the thing Elliot wanted. The shape of the meeting. A deal. A warning. A trap.

I listened for twenty minutes. They talked about shipping routes. About a port in the south. About money that moved through channels I did not understand. Nothing about Elliot. Nothing about the family. Nothing that sounded like a threat.

It was business. Ordinary, boring business.

I was about to leave when I heard my name.

“Delia.”

I froze.