"Speaking of the ransom..."
"Of course, there's still time before the deadline! But since we've already met, it would be convenient to settle everything now rather than postpone it further." The meaning was transparent: *Give me the money immediately.* Alexio tilted his head, a faintly puzzled expression crossing his features.
"Speaking of the ransom—the transfer of funds has already been completed, Father-in-law."
"What are you talking about? I haven't received anything."
"That's correct. I gave the check to Adelina."
"**What?!**" Prince Arthur's face, which had been beaming with an ingratiating smile moments before, hardened instantly. "Why on earth did you give **her** the ransom?" The man stared at the Duke with undisguised indignation.
Alexio, as though genuinely surprised by the strangeness of the question, stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"You and Adelina are a loving father and daughter, are you not? Surely it makes little difference which of you receives the money."
"Well—!" The prince was about to object that their relationship wasn't remotely that close, but he caught himself just in time. He suspected the Duke of Pembroke would look more favorably upon a man who maintained harmonious relations with his own daughter. "We agreed that you would give the money to **me**. Otherwise, it constitutes a breach of contract."
"I'm not certain we had any such agreement." Alexio crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.
The prince burst out laughing—a sound sharp with disbelief. It was almost amusing to watch the Duke attempt to backtrack when Arthur possessed irrefutable proof.
"Look here!" Arthur laid the document he now carried everywhere upon the table with theatrical solemnity. "It states here, in black and white, that you undertake to hand over the ransom to me—"
"It does not." Alexio's interruption was smooth as silk.
"What?" Sensing something peculiar about the Duke's unwavering confidence, the prince snatched up the paper again. Burying his nose in the document, he scrutinized every line of Alexio Pembroke's precise handwriting—and finally discovered the **blind spot**. The agreement didn't clearly specify who exactly was to receive the money.
"This is absurd!" Arthur leapt to his feet and shook the contract in the Duke's face. "Even if it doesn't explicitly name the recipient, you clearly stated you would provide the ransom!"
"That's correct. And I did. I paid it to Adelina."
"Enough of this sophistry!"
"This isn't sophistry. If you have doubts, I encourage you to consult a legal expert."
"Y-you—!" The prince trembled, his face flushing a mottled crimson. Observing how confidently the Duke of Pembroke conducted himself, it was painfully obvious he had already consulted extensively regarding this agreement's contents. "You planned this from the very beginning! Since Adelina is your wife, this money will ultimately remain in **your** pocket!"
"A dubious assertion, Your Highness." Alexio met his father-in-law's fury with perfect composure. "Have you ever squandered your wife's property as though it were your own? I'm not so petty as to encroach upon my wife's personal assets. I have no need for such measures."
Among the nobility, it was considered **shameful** to touch a wife's personal property—a sign of inability to support one's own family. However, having married the heiress of a duchy, Prince Arthur had grown accustomed to managing her wealth freely. His wife had been too naive to object, he'd told himself. Of course, the prince was acutely aware that if this became public knowledge, it would devastate his reputation. He couldn't determine whether Alexio had raised the subject because he already knew the truth or had merely struck a nerve by accident—but for a long moment, Arthur found himself utterly speechless.
Observing that his father-in-law had fallen silent, the Duke shrugged with elegant indifference.
"A loving father wouldn't be troubled by the fact that this money ended up in his daughter's hands. And conversely, a devoted daughter would surely be happy to share it with him. So what precisely is the problem, Father-in-law?"
The logic was **flawless**.
Prince Arthur, infuriated that he couldn't muster a single word in response to this half-breed, crumpled the agreement and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"That's right. My daughter is an obedient child who adores her father."
There was no lie in those words.
Arthur snorted and stormed out of the drawing room. Not a trace remained of the kindly father-in-law who had greeted his son-in-law so warmly.
The Duke of Pembroke watched the prince's retreating figure—so eager to collect his check—and reached for the bellpull in the corner of the room.
---
"Madam." Mason glanced at Adelina with evident concern. Propriety dictated he leave father and daughter alone, but Arthur's rage had been so palpable that the butler couldn't bring himself to depart immediately.
"We've already discussed everything. If anything else is required, I shall call for you."
"Of course..." Though unease gnawed at him, if such was the mistress's will, he had no choice. Mason offered a deep bow and withdrew. He had every intention of remaining just outside the door—in case of emergency.
"You have come, Father."
"'You have come, Father'?" Prince Arthur repeated her words with a contemptuous snort, mocking his daughter's measured greeting. "Is this really the time for pleasantries? Give me the money. It doesn't belong to you."
"What money?"
"The marriage ransom! **Ten billion clons!**" The demand rang with absolute confidence. After all, it was **he** who had negotiated this sum with the Duke of Pembroke.
Adelina regarded her enraged father in silence. From the moment she had first begun menstruating—from the instant she had become marriageable—she had always feared this man. She had known, with cold certainty, that he would marry her off to whomever he pleased, whenever he pleased. It must be said that her fears had not been unfounded. This marriage, after all, had only been made possible by her father's will.
"Calm yourself. Of course I'll give it to you."
The tranquil tone of Prince Arthur's daughter settled his nerves somewhat. Even when his agitation intensified, Adelina always remained **calm**. The prince lowered himself onto the sofa and forced himself to breathe.
"If that's the case... Then you should have contacted me immediately and sent the money."
"I received the check upon returning from my honeymoon and was planning to contact you today. But you arrived first."
"Ahem!" Prince Arthur cleared his throat loudly. He had always been a stern father to Adelina, and he felt distinctly awkward revealing any hint of anxiety to his daughter. "You know this matter needs to be resolved quickly." He raised his voice, attempting to sound more authoritative, but the girl's expression remained unchanged. Growing increasingly nervous, the prince added hastily, "I don't have time to linger here. I have an important conversation scheduled with Marquis Rossi."
The meaning was transparent: *Stop stalling and give me my money.*
Adelina smiled faintly at her father's impatience.
"An important conversation? Could it be you're planning to start a business venture again? Or perhaps you've discovered a profitable investment opportunity?"
"What business is it of yours what my plans are? Business and investments are **men's** affairs. You concern yourself with the Pembroke household and think only about how to assist your family."
"So you wish me to secretly funnel the Duke of Pembroke's money to you?"
"**Adelina!**" Though the prince knew no one else occupied the room, his eyes darted nervously around the space. Of course, that was *precisely* what Arthur had meant—but speaking such intentions aloud was deeply inappropriate. "Have you lost all sense of dignity?"
"I'm not entirely certain what you mean by 'dignity.'" The girl's smile turned bitter, edged with something sharp. "Perhaps you mean concealing the truth and pretending?" She rose gracefully from her seat.
Arthur had already opened his mouth, prepared to launch into another lecture, but when he saw her retrieve a check from the desk drawer and extend it toward him, his expression shifted to satisfaction.
"Hm?" The prince's face contorted strangely as he snatched the check from his daughter's hands. "Why is this only **five billion**?"
*Could the Duke of Pembroke have written two separate checks?* No matter how many times the prince turned the paper over in his hands, examining it from every angle, the amount remained unchanged.
"Adelina?" Prince Arthur turned to his daughter, demanding explanation. The girl, however, simply sank back into her chair with infuriating composure. "**Adelina!**" When the prince, losing all patience, shouted her name again, she finally spoke.
"I asked Sophie to investigate precisely how much you owe. With accumulated interest, the sum comes to exactly five billion clons." Her voice was steady, almost pleasant. "That is sufficient money to clear your debts entirely."