SMR 86

~Chapter 86~

‘The person responsible for this mess deserves to be dragged through the filth.’

As Cedric thought about Albert—the man who had pretended to be friendly while secretly drugging his drink—he felt a wave of nausea rise up in his throat.

Until now, Cedric had been focused on Benedict, Albert’s father, believing the older man was the greater threat. But it seemed the son, perhaps out of blind devotion or sheer stupidity, had thrown himself into the fire first.

‘Fine by me. The sooner he falls, the better.’

Cedric’s lips curled into a cold, razor-sharp smile.

‘I’ll be waiting, Albert.’

***

It was mid-February when the manager of the Aceti Bank branch in Perillas finally arrived in Genoa.

He had written letter after letter, requesting to meet with Harriet Listerwell, but received no response. Eventually, he had no choice but to travel there himself.

“Is this the right place? The Listerwell residence?” he muttered to himself, comparing the address on a crumpled piece of paper with the map of Genoa and the impressive stone-walled mansion in front of him.

Everything matched. This had to be it.

After folding the map and note, he straightened his coat and smoothed his mustache before walking to the front gate.

He rang the bell several times. Soon, a servant appeared, his footsteps hurried and cautious.

“Yes? May I help you?”

“Good day. Is this the residence of Baron Listerwell?”

“It is, but…”

“Please inform the Baron that someone from the Aceti Bank in Perillas is here to see him. He’ll know what it’s about.”

The visitor, a neatly dressed man in a gray wool coat with a refined demeanor, exuded the kind of quiet authority one might expect from a seasoned banker. His presence immediately inspired trust.

The servant nodded and went inside to relay the message, only to find John—the one currently managing the estate—in a state of sudden panic.

“Who—who did you say?”

“He said he’s from the Aceti Bank in Perillas.”

“Damn it all…”

John couldn’t even finish cursing as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

He had been too busy organizing Bella’s engagement to find a suitable replacement for Harriet—someone who could convincingly show up as her. It wasn’t just about appearance. If that person couldn’t copy Harriet’s handwriting and physical appearance closely enough, then any future legal disputes could be lost.

If Harriet were to claim, “That wasn’t me. I never signed anything,” the only way to discredit her would be to show that even trained professionals believed the fake.

‘Calm down. Just make sure the banker doesn’t get suspicious. I’ll make up an excuse and send him away for now. And I need to find a replacement quickly.’

John cursed himself for his earlier laziness. He gave instructions to the butler to welcome the guest and show him to the drawing room.

The butler, unaware of the hidden drama, politely guided the banker to a well-furnished reception area and offered him a seat.

“Please wait a moment. The Baron will join you shortly.”

“Thank you,” said the man, giving a polite nod. “Actually, I came here hoping to speak with Miss Harriet Listerwell. Would it be possible to see them both together?”

The bank manager, Howard Scott, sat down and folded his gloved hands calmly.

He was willing to return tomorrow if Harriet wasn’t home. He didn’t want to keep holding onto properties and land in Perillas that no longer legally belonged to the bank.

But the butler’s answer was unexpected.

“Miss Harriet? She doesn’t live here.”

“…Excuse me?”

Howard blinked.

That couldn’t be right.

John had specifically instructed him to send all correspondence for Harriet to this address. And yet here was the household’s own staff saying she didn’t even live there.

A chill crept up Howard’s spine.

“Has she never lived here at all?” he asked carefully.

“Oh no, she lived here for about ten years. But she moved out recently.”

“When exactly did she leave?”

“Well, let me see… It’s been quite a while now…”

The butler furrowed his brow, trying to recall the dates.

Just then, the drawing room door opened, and John finally appeared.

Howard rose from his seat to greet him.

“It’s been a while, Baron Listerwell.”

John had hoped for a low-level clerk to show up—someone he could easily brush off. But seeing the bank’s manager himself made him internally panic.

Still, he put on his most charming smile and extended his hand in welcome.

“Ohh, if it isn’t Manager Scott! What a pleasant surprise! You’ve been well, I hope?”

“Yes, thank you,” Howard replied calmly.

“What brings you to Genoa? Your sudden visit caught me off guard.”

That much was true. If Howard had sent notice, John would have made up a reason to stop him from coming.

But Howard had come without warning for that very reason. Deep down, he had suspected something wasn’t right. And now, he was starting to think his instincts had been correct.

“I only came for one reason, really,” Howard said evenly. “But I just heard something odd from your butler. He said, Miss Harriet Listerwell doesn’t live here.”

John shot the butler a quick glare before turning back to Howard with a forced chuckle.

“Ah, yes, Harriet is currently staying with some relatives in the countryside. She needed a bit of a change of scenery, you know. If I’d known you were coming, I would have saved you the trouble.”

“I see. Do you know when she’ll return?”

“Well, she didn’t say exactly…”

“Oh, but wait—your daughter’s engagement is next month, isn’t it? I imagine Miss Harriet would return by then. She would want to attend her cousin’s engagement, surely?”

The perfectly timed observation caused sweat to form on John’s back.

He couldn’t argue. There was no convincing reason to deny that Harriet would attend the engagement. And the thought of training a fake Harriet—someone who looked like her, forged her handwriting, and memorized her habits—in just one month felt impossible.

But he had no choice.

“Of course she’ll be here by then! Ha ha!”

“Then I’ll return around that time,” Howard said with a knowing look.

“I apologize for the delay. You know how young ladies can be—they don’t like dealing with financial matters.”

Even now, John couldn’t help but insult Harriet, planting the seed that she was immature and unreliable. If Howard believed that, it would be easier to manipulate things later.

Howard didn’t comment. He simply nodded and reached for his bag on the floor.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Ah, please, let us send a carriage to escort you. The nearest public coach station is quite far from here.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all! It’s the least I can do after making you come all this way. Please, allow us.”

John remained as polite and generous as ever. He had to keep up appearances until the Perillas estate and mansion were safely under his name.

In the end, Howard accepted the offer. A Listerwell carriage took him to the station.

But on the ride there, he found his mind heavy with worry.

‘So I’ll be meeting the real Harriet Listerwell next month… but why do I feel so uneasy about all of this?’

The Perillas land and estate were among the most valuable assets the Aceti Bank had ever held as insurance.

Keeping it longer than necessary wasn’t helping anyone—especially not without receiving a management fee.

He had been storing the profits in the bank’s accounts on Harriet’s behalf out of goodwill. But he couldn’t justify it much longer.

For months now, the bank had been transferring all rental income to a separate holding account, waiting for Harriet to sign the necessary documents.

‘I only did it out of goodwill—for her father’s sake. But I can’t do this forever…’

Howard sighed.

Just then, the carriage came to a stop.

“We’ve arrived!” the coachman called out.

Howard gathered his things and stepped down.

He expected the driver to head back, but to his surprise, the man also got up and approached him.

At first, Howard assumed the man was looking for a tip and reached for his wallet.

But the driver, Terry, shook his head.

“I heard you’re here to see Miss Harriet,” he said.

“That’s right… but I was told she’s staying with relatives in the countryside.”

Terry looked him straight in the eye. “That’s not true. She’s in the capital. Right now.”

“…What?”

“I can take you to her, if you’d like.”

Howard blinked in shock.

Everything about this visit had felt suspicious—and now, the truth was finally unraveling.

He nodded.

He needed to resolve this now. The estate needed to be returned, and more importantly, something told him this was his only chance to meet the real Harriet.

***

“Miss, there’s a visitor here to see you. He didn’t make an appointment, but he says it’s urgent.”

Harriet looked up from her teacup, surprised by the butler Andre’s words.

“Who is it?”

“He says he’s the bank manager of Aceti Bank from Perillas. Do you know him?”

Harriet shook her head.

She’d never heard of Aceti Bank or even the Perillas region.

‘Well, I’ll know when I meet him, I guess.’

She finished the last sip of tea and stood up.

“Please show him to the reception room. I’ll be down shortly.”

And that’s how, nearly eight months after the estate contract had been finalized, Howard Scott finally came face-to-face with Harriet Listerwell.

He stood nervously in the drawing room, his heart pounding.

Then the door opened—and in walked a young woman with neatly tied dark brown hair, eyes calm but intelligent.

Howard quickly rose to his feet.

He had a feeling this was going to change everything.