Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 282 - Two Hundred And Eighty One

Marissa lifted the lid. The hinges moved silently.

Inside, resting on a cushion of black velvet, was a ring.

It was a substantial piece of jewelry. It was made of thick, polished silver, cool and solid. In the center sat a large, flat onyx stone, black as midnight. It didn’t sparkle like a diamond; it absorbed the light, dark and mysterious.

Marissa reached out and took the ring from the box. It felt heavier than it looked.

Derek reached out. He took the ring from her fingers. He held it up to the firelight, turning it slowly so she could see the craftsmanship.

"This is not just jewelry," Derek explained, his voice serious. "This is protection."

He brought the ring closer to her.

"This ring contains a special medicinal powder," Derek said. "It is stored in a hollow chamber beneath the stone."

He demonstrated. He held the band of the ring with one hand and touched the onyx stone with his thumb.

"Rotate the surface to activate the mechanism," Derek instructed.

He pushed his thumb gently. The black stone turned with a soft, barely audible click. A tiny, microscopic vent opened on the side of the setting.

"Just a small twist," Derek said. "And the powder is released. It is potent. It is a concentrated tranquilizer from the North. It is designed to incapacitate, not kill, but it acts instantly. If someone breathes it, or if it touches their eyes, they will fall."

He looked at Marissa, his eyes dark with concern.

"It can help with emergencies," Derek said. "When you face danger. When I am not there to protect you. I cannot be your shadow every hour of the day, Marissa. I need to know you have a way to fight back."

He took her right hand. His touch was gentle but firm. He slid the silver ring onto her index finger. It fit perfectly, cool and solid against her skin. It felt like armor.

"If anyone tries to grab you," Derek whispered, his voice intense, "if anyone tries to force you... use it. Do not hesitate."

He finished speaking, but he didn’t let go of her hand. He rubbed her fingers gently, his thumb tracing the silver band. It was a gesture of protection, of love, and of fear. He was arming her because he knew the war was coming to their doorstep. He was afraid for her.

Marissa looked at the ring on her finger. It looked elegant, unassuming. No one would guess it was a weapon.

She looked up at him. She saw the lines of worry etched around his eyes.

"Okay," Marissa said softly. "I will wear it always. I will not take it off."

She pulled her hand back gently, admiring the ring. She practiced the motion in her head—twist, release, escape.

"Thank you," she added.

She took a deep breath, shifting the mood. She needed to tell him her plans. She needed him to know she wasn’t just hiding in the estate.

"By the way," Marissa said, her voice calm. "The Crown Princess is back in the capital. She returned from the summer palace yesterday."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "The Crown Princess? Did she send for you?"

"Yes," Marissa nodded. "She sent a messenger this afternoon. She wants me to accompany her to the grand church tomorrow."

Derek frowned slightly. "Is it official business? A ceremony?"

"Personal," Marissa corrected him. "I heard her close friend, Lady Edwina, has been worried about her mother’s health. The old lady is failing. The physicians can do nothing. The Princess wants to table her request to the Almighty, to pray for a miracle. She asked me to join her as a friend, not just a subject."

Derek nodded slowly. He leaned back on the sofa.

"That is good," Derek said, analyzing the political angle. "It is a sign of high favor. To be invited to a private prayer with the future Queen is a privilege few enjoyed. It means she trusts you."

He looked at Marissa.

"Go," Derek said. "Be seen with her. It strengthens our position. If the Crown Princess favors you, if she considers you a friend, Liam will have to be more careful. He cannot touch the woman who stands at the right hand of his wife."

Marissa nodded. "I thought so too."

Then, her facial expression changed. The calm, political mask slipped. Her eyes became cold, hard chips of flint.

She looked down at the sofa between them. Lying there, crumpled and white, was the silk chemise. The one Liam had sent in the box. The one that had been stolen from her wardrobe.

"As for Prince Liam..." Marissa whispered.

The name tasted like poison in her mouth.

She reached out and picked up the chemise. Her hand closed around the delicate fabric, crushing the lace into a tight fist. She felt the violation all over again. He had been in her room. Or his agent had. He had touched her intimate things.

"...this chemise," She said, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "And the divorce agreement matter. The invasion of my privacy. The threat to our marriage."

She looked at Derek. Her eyes were burning with a promise of retribution.

"I won’t let it go easily," Marissa vowed. "He thinks he can play with us. He thinks he can take what is mine. He thinks he can use my secrets against me."

She clenched her fist tighter.

"He is wrong," she hissed.

Derek reached out. He covered her fist with his large, warm hand. He squeezed it, validating her anger.

"We will make him pay," Derek said. His voice was a low growl. "Together. He made a mistake when he touched you. And he will regret it."

That same night, the capital was shrouded in darkness. The moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, leaving the streets pitch black.

A carriage stopped a few streets away from Prince Liam’s private residence. It was a plain, unmarked carriage, blending into the shadows of the alleyway.

The door opened silently.

Ashlyn stepped out.

She was wearing a heavy, dark cloak made of rough wool. The hood was pulled low, hiding her face completely. She looked nervous. She clutched the edges of the cloak together with one hand, checking the street.

She moved quickly, furtively. She kept to the walls, avoiding the pools of light from the streetlamps. She glanced over her shoulder every few steps, her eyes wide and frightened.

She walked toward the side gate of the Prince’s estate—the small, servant’s entrance she had used before.

She reached the gate. She knocked. Three rapid taps.

The guard opened it immediately. He didn’t ask who she was. He had been expecting her.

Ashlyn slipped inside, disappearing into the belly of the enemy’s lair. The gate clicked shut behind her.

She thought she was unseen. But she was wrong.

Across the street, hidden in the deep, ink-black shadows of a narrow alleyway, two figures were watching.

Marissa stood perfectly still. She was wearing a dark cloak similar to Ashlyn’s, her breathing slow and controlled. Beside her stood Lily, silent and watchful, her face grim.

They had followed Ashlyn from the estate. They had watched her sneak out. They had trailed her carriage.

They saw Ashlyn enter the gate. They saw the guard let her in without a word.

Marissa let out a small, disgusted breath. It puffed out as a white cloud in the cold air.

"So," Marissa whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

She looked at the closed gate. The proof was undeniable.

"She definitely stole my undergarment," Marissa murmured. "She stole the divorce paper. She is the one who went into my room. She is the one who delivered them to Liam."

Marissa shook her head slowly. A mix of pity and contempt washed over her face.

"She is digging her own grave," Marissa whispered.

She looked at the high stone walls of the residence. It looked like a prison.

"Daring to ally with Prince Liam," Marissa said. "Does she think he will protect her? Does she think he cares about her? He is a monster who killed his own cousin’s brother. He will use her until she breaks. He will squeeze every drop of use out of her, and then he will discard her like a broken toy."

Lily looked at her mistress.

"Your Grace," Lily whispered. "Should we go in? Should we call the guards?"

Marissa shook her head.

"No," Marissa said. "Not yet. We cannot touch her while she is in there. And we need her to feel safe. We need her to think she is winning."

Marissa turned to Lily.

"We have seen enough," Marissa said. "We know the connection now. We know the leak. We know who the rat is."

She looked at Lily, her face grim in the shadows.

"Let’s go back to the carriage, Lily," Marissa ordered. "It is cold, and the air here smells of treason."

She pulled her hood tighter.