Ella closed her eyes as she processed her emotions. She knew and understood they were just a replacement, but didn't expect it to be that bad. They were also financially used.
Ella's breath hitched. "You're saying—"
"I'm saying," Cindy snapped, stepping closer, "that he didn't marry her because he loved her. He married your mother because he was drowning and she was rich enough to keep us afloat."
Silence crashed down between them.
Ella opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She was beyond shock and loss for words. Slowly, her steps faltered backward toward the door.
A smirk appeared on Cindy's lips as she enjoyed the devastation on Ella's face. They were told to keep the truth from Ella and Eleanor, but Cindy didn't care anymore since it was already too late to back out.
"You're penniless…" Ella finally spoke as realization dawned on her. "You're all broke…. MAMA!!!"
"I—" before Cindy could reply, Ella burst out of the door and ran as fast as she could to where her mother was located. She didn't care if she was seen as unladylike.
"Mama! Mama!" Ella screamed as she got close to the receiving room, but at that moment, she didn't expect there would be visitors at that time.
Ella pushed the door open and revealed three men standing around the table with Eleanor, wearing black dresses. In front of them was a stack of documented papers.
"Mama! They are broke!" Ella screamed, unable to stop herself at the right time. The words tore through the room like shattered glass.
The three men turned at once.
Eleanor froze where she stood, one hand resting on the edge of the table as if she needed it to remain upright. Her black mourning dress made her look carved from shadows, but her face drained of color so quickly it frightened Ella more than the strangers ever could.
"Ella," Eleanor said sharply, her voice low and strained. "That is enough."
But it was already too late.
One of the men cleared his throat. He was tall and narrow, his hair slicked back, his fingers heavy with rings that caught light. Another leaned lazily against the table, boot hooked over the edge of a chair as though the room was a tavern and not a grieving household. The third one, older and quieter, merely observed, with eyes sharp.
"Your daughter has quite a way of introductions, Viscountess," the ringed man said smoothly. "But she is… not entirely incorrect."
Ella's chest heaved. Her eyes darted between the men and her mother. "Mama," she whispered. "They have nothing left."
Eleanor closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the weight in them felt unbearable.
"How many?" Eleanor asked, her voice steady through sheer force of will, "Did you tell her?"
The older man stepped toward them. He placed a single paper on the table and tapped it once with his fingers. "Three thousand and forty gold coins in outstanding debt," he said calmly. "Accumulated over the months. Gambling losses. Interest, and private loans."
Ella's knees weakened.
"And how much remains?" Eleanor asked.
The man did not hesitate. "Eighty-three."
The number echoed in Ella's head like a funeral bell. 'Eighty-three gold coins. That's a servant's wages, winter stores, medicines, candles, and food. That was basically nothing!' she thought.
Ella staggered forward, gripping the back of a chair to keep herself from collapsing. "Eighty-three?" She repeated faintly. "That's—Mama, that won't even last—"
"I know," Eleanor cut in, sharper than Ella had ever heard her speak, not in anger, but in fear.
The second man laughed softly. "You see now why we came early, Viscountess. Your late husband delayed us long enough. His passing does not erase the debt."
The word late husband twisted something cruel inside Ella's chest.
"You can't," Ella burst out. "You can't take anything else. There's nothing left to take!"
The ringed man's smirk widened. "On the contrary, my lady. There is quite a lot." Then his eyes stared at Ella, giving a dark hint.
Eleanor's hand curled into a fist.
"Do not touch my daughter," Eleanor said coldly.
"I didn't say anything," the man replied. "But unless the payment needs to be made within thirty days, collection will proceed. Assets. Land. Titles, if necessary."
Ella turned to her mother, tears blurring her vision. "Mama… they used us," she whispered. "They married us because they needed your money."
Eleanor's lips trembled for half a second, just for Ella to see. Then she straightened.
"Ella," Eleanor said softly, reaching for her daughter's hand. Her grip was firm and protective. "Leave us."
"No—" Ella replied.
"Ella," Eleanor's single word carried authority, love, and desperation all at once.
Ella swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as tears slipped down her cheeks. She knew she had no power at that moment, and she felt useless.
As Ella walked out and closed the door behind her. She heard Eleanor's voice ring clear and unyielding.
"You will not threaten my child in my own home," Eleanor said. "If there is a debt, then I will face it. But do not mistake me for a woman who can be cornered easily."
Ella did not go far. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall just outside the receiving room, knees drawn close to her chest as though she could make herself smaller, quieter, and less of a burden. Her hands shook violently in her lap.
Inside the room, voices rose and fell, muffled by the thick door as words blurred into an indistinct hum.
Ella waited.
She waited because her mother told her to, and she didn't know what else to do at that moment.
"Mama…" Ella whispered. She wanted to be comforted, but she knew she was alone.
Time stretched cruelly. Every second felt like another thread pulling apart the life Ella thought she knew.
And worst of all, the truth Cindy had thrown at Ella like a blade.
They never wanted us.
They needed us.
Our money.
Then, a sharp laugh cut through the door. Then silence.
Moments later, footsteps approached. The door opened, and the three men emerged one by one. Their faces were composed, satisfied in the way men who believed time itself worked for them.
None spared Ella more than a passing glance.