Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 145: You think she’s the bait

Chapter 145: You think she’s the bait

The gates of the estate creaked open by dawn, the carriage rolling in under heavy guard. The horses were restless, and so was the man inside. A hooded figure, slouched and pale, peeked nervously through the iron bars of the carriage window. His wrists bore shackles, though loosely bound now.

Lucien stood waiting in the courtyard, arms crossed, Rowan by his side. Samuel was already posted along the rooftop perimeter, scanning for any movement beyond the estate walls. Even the birds had gone quiet.

"Is this the man?" Lucien asked flatly.

"Yes, Your Highness," Rowan confirmed. "Name’s Corin. Merchant from Rivelton. Got mixed into the brothel ring three years ago."

Corin stepped down, barely able to stand. His eyes darted everywhere until they landed on Lucien, and froze. Something in the prince’s gaze made him straighten involuntarily.

"I... I came like I promised," Corin stammered. "Please... I don’t want to die."

Lucien took a step forward. "Then speak. And make your words worth keeping you alive."

Corin hesitated, his dry lips trembling. "I know who ordered the girl trade. The one connected to the royal brothels. But I need protection. Witnesses. I can’t say it out loud here."

Lucien’s jaw clenched. "Take him inside. Interrogate him in the east study. No one in or out unless I say so."

Rowan nodded, guiding Corin through the side passage.

From the balcony above, Liora watched in silence. She had only caught part of the conversation, but enough to sense something was shifting again.

Beatrice appeared behind her, her voice unreadable. "That man is trouble."

Liora turned. "Which one?"

"Both," Beatrice said. "But one of them is yours to worry about."

Before Liora could reply, Beatrice continued, "Lady Layla’s maid returned to the capital. They say her next letter went straight to Queen Dowager Lilian."

Liora’s brows knit together. "More rumors?"

"No." Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. "More schemes."

At that moment, Mira arrived, Anaïs trailing behind with ink-stained fingers and a look of worry.

"There’s something else," Mira said, her voice low. "Corin isn’t alone. His daughter’s here. She’s hiding in the servant quarters. Says she escaped with him."

Lucien hadn’t been told this.

Liora stood straighter. "Where is she now?"

"Terrified," Anaïs whispered. "She thought she’d be sold like the others."

Liora looked at Beatrice, who sighed. "Take me to her."

Down the halls and into the lesser wing, a new thread wove itself into the estate’s already tangled fabric. The girl, barely sixteen, sat curled near the fire, her eyes hollow. Liora knelt slowly beside her.

"You’re safe here," she said softly.

The girl looked up, her lips trembling. "You say that now... But safety never lasts long."

Liora exchanged a glance with Mira. The world around them was sharpening, taking on corners and teeth. And while Lucien hunted shadows in the court, those shadows were slowly creeping into his home

The doors of the east study were shut, thick velvet curtains drawn, snuffing out any outside light. Only the flicker of a single oil lamp lit the room, casting long, warping shadows across the stone floor. Corin sat at the center table, his shackles removed but his hands trembling slightly. Rowan stood by the door, arms folded. Lucien sat across from the merchant, eyes unreadable.

"Speak," Lucien said, voice low.

Corin swallowed. "It wasn’t just brothels. The trade ran deeper. Girls were being sent across borders to noble houses, some under fake concubine titles... Some sold directly to enemy states."

Rowan shifted slightly, jaw tightening.

"Who ran it?" Lucien pressed.

"I only dealt with the mid-level orders," Corin replied. "But I know a name came up often. Marquis Vaelric. He’s high enough in the capital to have protection. But he worked with a woman. Lady Evelyne Miral."

Lucien’s gaze darkened. "Evelyne Miral?"

Corin nodded quickly. "She was part of the trade arrangements. She listed off names, said she was only cleaning up the "unwanted daughters" of her house.

Lucien’s fingers tapped once on the table. "And where were these girls sent?"

Corin hesitated. "Some to Sorellia... the kingdom west of our borders. Others to Petra. And a few..."his eyes shifted to Rowan"...to families closely tied to the Queen Dowager."

Rowan inhaled sharply. "Lilian’s involved?"

Corin raised his hands. "I don’t know. I swear! But whoever it is... they’re high enough to change names in court documents. It’s not just the flesh trade. It’s information. They use these girls as pawns to get inside noble houses."

Lucien stood slowly. "And what do you want in return?"

"Safe passage. For me and my daughter. I’ll testify. I’ll give you all the names I have," Corin said.

Lucien nodded once. "You’ll stay here. Under guard. If you try to run..."

"I won’t."

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. "We’ll need to verify all of it."

"We will," Lucien said quietly. "But if even half of what he says is true... we’re not dealing with petty court games anymore. We’re dealing with treason."

Elsewhere in the estate, Anaïs sat beside the merchant’s daughter, brushing the girl’s hair out of her eyes as Liora returned to the chamber. The girl had fallen asleep, hand clutching Anaïs’s skirt.

"She’s been through more than we know," Anaïs whispered. "And she said something strange."

"What was it?" Liora asked gently.

"She remembered someone else at the trade site. A woman with dark gloves... who kept her face hidden. She said the woman wore a ring with the royal crest."

Liora froze. "The crest?"

Anaïs nodded.

A sick twist coiled in Liora’s chest. She knew that crest. She had seen it once before on a visiting robe in her aunt’s chamber, many years ago.

"Rowan must know," Liora whispered. "And Lucien."

But deep inside, she already knew what this meant. The puzzle wasn’t just tangled—it had roots in her past.

Lucien stood on the balcony of the east wing, staring into the fog curling over the distant woods. Behind him, Rowan emerged with a bundle of documents Corin had been forced to write down.

"Names, routes, passphrases," Rowan muttered. "Enough to start a purge if we wanted."

"But not enough to avoid a war," Lucien replied. His tone was sharp, quieter than usual.

Rowan stepped closer, setting the bundle on the marble ledge. "There’s one thing that’s bothering me."

Lucien turned to him slowly.

Rowan continued, "The merchant said Evelyne Miral gave names. She was the one who spread the lie about Liora’s past. If she knew Liora would be sent here as a concubine, she had to assume she’d be discarded eventually."

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers curled slightly over the stone.

"Then why?" Rowan asked. "Why send her to you if you’re the one person they’d want out of court?"

Lucien’s voice dropped. "Because she wasn’t sent to be loved. She was sent to be ruined.

Rowan’s jaw tightened. "You think she’s the bait?"

"I think," Lucien muttered, "that if Liora was meant to be used, someone underestimated her strength."

He didn’t say it aloud, but every time her eyes flashed with defiance, even under pain, Lucien had seen a reflection of something familiar. Something dangerous. Not weak, not broken.

Survivor.

"Keep him locked. Double the guards," Lucien ordered. "And I want Samuel to prepare another envoy to Sorellia. If these names link with our trade records, this isn’t just court intrigue. It’s a threat to the crown."

Rowan nodded and left.

Inside her chamber, Liora sat by the fire with Anaïs and Mira. The girl Elira, slept on a cot nearby, finally breathing normally. Liora gently wiped a cloth across Elira’s brow and stared into the fire, her thoughts distant.

"What is it?" Mira asked softly.

Liora didn’t answer at first. Her fingers held the edge of the cloth, trembling faintly.

"She said she saw a ring with the royal crest. I know that ring."

"You’re sure?"

"Yes," Liora replied. "My aunt Evelyne wore it once... during a gathering. She was speaking to a veiled noblewoman."

Mira frowned. "Do you think it’s the same?"

"I don’t know," Liora murmured, "but if they had royal help spreading these trades... then someone else above Evelyne is watching this."

Anaïs looked uneasy. "Then it’s not just about you and Lucien."

"No," Liora said softly. "It never was."

There was a knock on the door. Mira opened it to find Samuel, unusually quiet. His gaze landed on Liora.

"His Highness wants you," he said. "In the war chamber."

Liora blinked. "War chamber?"

"He says it’s time you see who’s really at the center of this web."

The war chamber was nothing like Liora had expected.

There were no maps strewn across wide tables, no roaring officers arguing over tactics. Instead, the room was dimly lit, guarded heavily, and lined with scrolls sealed in wax. At the center stood Lucien, his back straight, arms crossed, flanked by Rowan and Samuel.

Liora stepped in, her hands folded in front of her. She didn’t say a word. Not yet.

Lucien turned toward her, his expression unreadable.

"You said you were willing to help," he began, voice low but even. "I want you to read this."

He handed her a scroll with a broken red seal. The emblem was unfamiliar, the language inside formal. She skimmed through it.

Her eyes widened.

"This is... about a village near Petra," she said slowly. "Livestock stolen, three girls missing."

"And not by bandits," Lucien replied. "They were taken using royal writs. Faked ones. With my signature forged."

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