Mary turned around and closed the door, her movements flowing in one smooth, continuous motion without a hint of hesitation.
The cold touch of the brass handle transmitted itself to her hand, yet it could not cool the temperature of the young girl's palm, which was slightly burning with excitement. She tried hard to keep her pace steady and dignified, but a few traces of urgency inevitably leaked through.
Passing through the brightly lit corridor, Mary stopped in front of a tightly closed mahogany door. Behind it lay Duke Morstan's study.
Mary took a deep breath, then reached out and gently knocked on the door panel.
Knock, knock, knock.Three times, neither more nor less, with just the right amount of force.
"Who is it?" A man's voice came from within.
"It is me, Father," Mary spoke. "I have something I need to show you."
"What is it?"
"You will know when you see it."
Hearing this, silence fell within the study for a moment. Behind the desk, Duke Morstan frowned. This was the first time he had encountered Mary speaking to him in such a suspenseful tone. In the past, the girl had always answered every question fully, never giving an irrelevant response. This couldn't help but arouse a bit of curiosity in him.
"Come in."
Receiving permission, Mary pressed down the handle, pushed the door open, and entered, casually closing it behind her. She walked to the desk and gently placed the item she was holding onto the surface.
"What is this?" Duke Morstan asked as he cast his gaze toward the stack of documents on the table.
Then, his pupils suddenly contracted. He froze for a moment before abruptly leaning forward and grabbing the items in his hands.
"This is..."
"These are the commercial cooperation documents previously signed between the Morstan family and the Roy family, as well as some bonds and securities," Mary said softly.
"Where did you f—"
"They are all real. The originals," Mary interrupted Duke Morstan.
Originals?
Duke Morstan glanced at Mary, then looked back at the documents in his hands, half-believing and half-doubting. That was correct; they were indeed the originals. Whether it was the seal or that familiar handwritten signature.
So the question arose: Why would these things appear here? Shouldn't they be lying properly in the underground storage room of Lloyds Bank?
"Where did you get these?" After confirming the authenticity of the documents, the Duke suppressed the shock in his heart and looked up at Mary.
"If these are all real, do you know what this means, Mary?"
"Moriarty sent them," Mary did not hide the truth.
"Moriarty?" The Duke frowned. "You mean that thief?"
"Mmh," the girl nodded slightly. "He suddenly appeared outside the window just now, left these things, and then vanished."
"But why would he do this?" The Duke's frown deepened.
"Probably to maintain his persona," Mary said. "Isn't that thief's favorite thing to do? To steal some jewelry and then silently return it to its original owner?"
This explanation allowed Duke Morstan's brows to relax slightly. Immediately after, before he could speak, Mary's voice rang out again.
"If these documents are real, then it means Lloyds Bank is lying to us."
Hearing this, the man was slightly stunned, only then reacting to the fact that she was answering the question he had just asked. Under her father's gaze, Mary spoke with a steady tone, neither humble nor arrogant.
"I'm afraid that after the bank attack happened last night, these documents had already been stolen. It's just that Lloyds Bank likely calculated that Moriarty would return the stolen items, so they chose to lie and demanded The Times keep silent on the matter.
"In exchange, The Times could get firsthand information from Lloyds Bank. And Lloyds Bank itself could avoid a massive loss—I am referring to expenses other than the consolation payments and storage room repairs."
Mary didn't spell it out completely, only touching upon the point, then looked at her father.
Duke Morstan realized almost instantly what she was referring to. "The compensation for stolen property, and the subsequent compensation plans."
His voice sank, like muffled thunder before dark clouds press down. In those profound eyes, the anxiety and irritability originally caused by the break in the capital chain were now being replaced by something else: the excitement of seeing huge profits, and the anger of having been deceived.
Duke Morstan did not mind the hints in the girl's words, nor did he marvel at the calculation she showed which did not befit her identity. Because this was exactly his purpose in raising her. Everything was for the supremacy of the family's interests.
"Lloyds Bank really has enough guts," Duke Morstan snorted coldly. "They even dare to deceive their biggest client."
He paused, then looked up at Mary. "My daughter, how do you think I should make them experience the Morstan family's wrath?"
"There are naturally ways, though I'm afraid it will be a bit troublesome and might take some time, but I can assure you the results will be significant," Mary said.
"No sacrifice is too great to be unacceptable, and no betrayal is small enough to be forgiven."
Duke Morstan heard his daughter's hint. "Just say it."
"I understand, Father." Mary nodded, the corners of her mouth hooking up slightly.
She didn't like this man. But she had to admit, from a cooperative perspective, this man was an excellent merchant. He understood hints and could make trade-offs.
"First," Mary's voice sounded in the quiet study, "our target is actually not just one."
She walked to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of plain water for herself, and refilled the amber liquid in the Duke's empty whiskey glass.
"Oh?" The Duke took the glass, leaned back in his chair, and looked at his daughter with interest.
"Lloyds Bank is only one of them, and the easiest one to deal with." Mary placed the water glass on the table, making a soft clack, as if striking a final note for her statement. "There is another target—The Times."
"The newspaper office?" The Duke's brow raised imperceptibly. "They are just the bank's mouthpiece, insignificant."
"Quite the opposite." Mary shook her head. "They are the most critical link, the lever we use to pry the bank, and also our source of extra revenue. Father, please think about it. What is Lloyds Bank's greatest asset?"
"Credibility," the Duke answered without thinking.
"Exactly, credibility," Mary nodded. "So, for a bank that chooses to lie to its biggest client and colludes with the media to hide the truth in order to avoid compensation—how much is its credibility still worth?"
The Duke did not speak, but the light in his eyes grew sharper.
"If we go to confront the bank now, the best result is nothing more than getting back the compensation due in the contract, plus a hush fee. But that is not enough. Far from enough to fill the hole Mycroft created."
Mary walked to the desk, braced her hands on the edge, and leaned forward slightly, her azure eyes looking straight at her father.
"We don't need their compensation; we need their fear," she said, articulating every word. "Fear will make them pay much more than money. For example, a brand new long-term loan contract with interest rates low enough to make all their peers jealous. Or, for instance, support for all the family's future investment projects."
The cigar in the Duke's hand paused, ash drifting down. He looked at the daughter before him as if he were knowing her for the first time.
"And The Times is the weapon we use to manufacture this fear." Mary straightened up and paced to the window.
"Fleet Street has more than one newspaper office, Father. The Times's mortal enemy, The Guardian—I think they would be very happy to spend a large sum of money to buy an exclusive scandal sufficient to ruin a competitor's reputation."
"You want to eat from both ends?" The Duke finally understood her intention.
"Why not?"
Mary turned around, a smile appearing on her face that was identical to Russell's when he was at the newspaper office—pure and harmless.
"It is a fact that The Times and Lloyds Bank conspired to deceive the public. As victims, it is quite reasonable for us to disclose the truth to another media outlet with a sense of justice and collect an information consultation fee. For this, The Guardian will even have to thank us."
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