"When something doesn't feel like mere coincidence, it often means trouble is already approaching."
Charlotte held a warm cup of tea and spoke casually.
"Especially during this critical period when power and interests are being restructured."
Even a passing mosquito could carry a lethal virus.
In such a situation, if someone was truly planning something, their goal would not be as simple as extorting a few hundred pounds.
The girl slightly raised her eyelids and looked at Russell.
"If I were that person, I would patiently lie in wait for the moment when my prey is most defenseless—when they believe they are at their strongest—and then sink my teeth into their throat."
"In other words, they won't make a move right now?"
Russell understood what Charlotte was implying.
"What benefit would taking down Mary bring you at this point?"
Charlotte countered, "Do you intend to clean up the mess they leave behind?"
Russell suddenly understood.
It was wiser to inherit an existing empire from someone else than to build one from scratch.
"You seem quite certain that such a person will appear."
He said this while putting a cookie into his mouth.
"From a criminal psychology perspective, this is not a certainty, but an inevitable event."
Charlotte hummed lightly, then tried to stretch her body, only to frown again from the pain in her waist.
"Hiss… But in the end, these are all just hypotheses. If that foolish man really does make a move, it will be her problem to worry about."
"Unless she comes running over and kneels down to beg me, I have no intention of getting involved in something like this."
"So, what are you planning to do?"
"Dinner and a hot water bottle."
Charlotte said this while glaring at Russell.
Hearing this, Russell chuckled.
"Understood."
…
Kensington District.
The Morstan family's black carriage slowly passed through the mansion gates and stopped in front of the main entrance.
The young head of the family lightly stepped down from the carriage using the footrest.
She had just completely and unilaterally humiliated that man at the hospital, and her mood was as light as the falling snow.
Seeing that once arrogant and dignified man now lying on the chopping board like a fish, desperately clinging to life in despair—his hoarse, desperate cries from his throat were, to her, the most beautiful symphony in the world.
That good mood lasted until she stepped into the mansion's hall.
"Welcome home, Miss."
Butler William had been waiting in the entrance hall since early morning. He took the black coat and lady's hat from Mary and handed them to the maid standing nearby.
"Good evening, William. What's for dinner?"
Mary walked toward the stairs while casually agreeing in a light tone.
"Tonight's dinner is sautéed sea bass with lemon butter sauce and your favorite creamy truffle soup."
William followed Mary toward the main staircase and answered politely. His voice was calm, but there was a faint trace of hesitation.
"However, before that, there are several urgent telegrams and documents that require your immediate attention."
Mary paused for a moment upon hearing this. A flash of irritation appeared in her previously bright eyes. But when she turned around, her expression had become gentle yet somewhat fragile and delicate.
"Understood. Bring them to the study."
In the second-floor study, the logs in the fireplace crackled, casting a warm orange-red glow into the dimly lit room.
Mary walked to the large mahogany desk and sat down. Her gaze fell on the silver tray William had just placed before her.
On it lay three urgent telegrams sealed with red wax. In the flickering firelight, the color was so vivid it resembled thick, viscous drops of blood.
"Now then, shall I guess which uncle is throwing another tantrum, or whether the South Bank shipping company is plotting to cancel the contract?"
Mary did not rush to open the letters. Instead, she took a delicate ivory-handled paper cutter from the drawer and casually fiddled with it between her fingers.
"There are such people on both sides, Miss."
William lowered his head slightly, his brows furrowed. His tone carried deep concern.
"This afternoon, a small-scale strike broke out at the East District textile assembly factory. The site supervisors claimed the company's cash flow had deteriorated and demanded advance payment of this month's wages. Meanwhile, several major distributors on the South Bank, using the old man's serious illness as an excuse, claimed that 'market risk assessment was insufficient' and demanded we return to improve the situation—otherwise threatening to refuse delivery of goods."
At this point, the old butler sighed. Anger appeared on his wrinkled face.
"This is clearly an act of taking advantage of the chaos! The instigators at the East District factory seem to be receiving vague support from a few influential figures."
"The South Bank distributors clearly believe you are young and easy to exploit, and are trying to seize this opportunity to gain significant benefits from the Morstan family."
After William's report, the study fell into a brief silence.
Outside the window, London's winter night blizzard roared like a beast, mercilessly pounding the thick glass windows with icy claws.
Mary lowered her eyes. Her emerald-green pupils were hidden in the shadow of her long lashes, making it impossible to read her emotions.
William was wondering whether the young head of the family might be confused and at a loss because of the series of difficulties that would follow—
"Oh…"
A very soft, somewhat amused laugh escaped the girl's lips.
"William?"
William looked up in surprise.
Mary skillfully and deftly pried open the red wax seals of the urgent telegrams using the ivory cutter.
She read through the official documents filled with coercion and pressure, ten lines at a time, one line at a time.
Finally, she casually tossed the stack of telegrams—enough to drive any ordinary businessman to despair—into the trash bin beside her as if they were garbage.
"They are testing me, William."
Mary leaned back deeply into the comfortable leather chair, her hands clasped elegantly under her chin.
"Those old foxes are trying to determine whether this orphaned girl who has lost the protection of that towering tree is a delicate white camellia that crumbles at the slightest touch, or a thorny bramble thicket."
The girl's voice remained soft and sweet, but in the flickering firelight, her emerald eyes radiated a cold, intimidating aura of absolute authority, like a sharp blade.
"So, how should we respond, Miss?"
"Shall I first send a reassuring telegram to the South Bank distributors in your name?"
The old butler respectfully asked for instructions.
"Reassure them?"
Mary raised one eyebrow as though she had heard a joke.
"If a lion cub shows its belly to a hyena as a sign of friendship, it will be devoured completely—bones and all."
She sat up straight. Her tone was calm yet carried absolute, unquestionable authority.
"William, there are two things I need you to do right now."
"First, issue clear instructions to the finance department of the East District factory. Anyone who wants their wages paid in advance may receive them, but they must also sign a resignation contract at the same time."
"Have the finance department bring the money in sacks to the factory square and settle the accounts publicly there."
"Even if the Morstan family's cash flow dries up, they can still pay a small amount of wages using gold bars."
"Not only will the instigators be fired, but every worker who did not participate in the strike and stayed at their post will receive a five-shilling bonus from my personal account."
"I want everyone in the East End to know that those loyal to the Morstan family will enjoy a bountiful Christmas, while those who try to threaten me will not only be unable to buy a single lump of coal, but their families will starve to death in the snow."
"But Miss, if you fire so many people, the factory's production line will come to a complete halt!"
"It won't stop."
Mary waved her hand.
"The workers were only incited because they wanted more cash to enjoy a good Christmas. They fear losing their livelihood more than anyone else."
"If the attitude is firm enough, the instigators who accepted bribes will quickly reveal their true colors."
"Of course, if they wish to fight to the very end, that is not impossible either."
The girl fiddled with the paper cutter in her hand and said casually.
"Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Mycroft would not want thousands of East London workers to be deliberately incited into a strike right in the middle of Christmas."
Hearing this, William suddenly understood what was happening.
If the new head of the family had any advantage over Arthur Morstan, it was undoubtedly her connections.
Arthur Morstan had been politically opposed to Mycroft, but Mary was not.
Considering her relationship with Russell and Charlotte, Lestrade and Mycroft could also assist the Morstan family when necessary.
"With a little guidance, this strike can be defined as a planned anarchist riot."
"In that case, we won't have to deal with this headache anymore."
Mary's pen glided elegantly across the paper. "The workers only want money, while these old fools are playing with fire for the sake of power."
"Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Mycroft would not object to adding a few items to their resumes before the end of the year."
"But… there is no evidence, Miss."
William said with difficulty.
"It will happen."
Mary said, "I don't want them to get ahead of themselves too much right now."
"Even if it really comes to that, a single phone call will suffice. Within an hour, original letters from uncles and elders will arrive at the offices of The Times, The Guardian, Lestrade & Mycroft, and on my desk."
She said this, then stretched. "That takes care of the first matter. As for the second—"
Mary gently tossed the paper cutter onto the table with a clack.
"If they're afraid, then let's act accordingly."
"Draft a contract termination agreement and send it to those troublesome South Bank distributors tomorrow morning, halting all Christmas season supplies."
"Miss, but if we lose them, the South Bank inventory will pile up!"
William reminded her.
"That's exactly why they tried to threaten me—because they thought so too."
Mary snorted.
"But Christmas season is right around the corner. The one who gets the goods first will be the real boss."
"Whether their inventory piles up is uncertain, but theirs is clearly insufficient."
"If they don't want it, that's fine. There are plenty of chambers of commerce in London willing to take it. The only question is how much profit they're willing to concede. Think of it as a gift for making new friends."
"Hasn't the Harrison Chamber of Commerce been suppressed by them all this time? Offer them a 5% discount, and if they're not stupid, they'll know what to do."
"The only condition is full cash payment."
Under William's surprised gaze, Mary spoke slowly and carefully.
"If the Harrison Chamber of Commerce obtains this cargo, they will undoubtedly dominate the market during Christmas season."
William's heart began to pound violently.
Looking at the shrewd young woman before him, the old butler felt as though he had found a ruler even more ruthless than Arthur Morstan—one who was skilled at manipulating rules and human nature.
Arthur Morstan was accustomed to crushing everything with absolute power, but Mary knew how to counter force with force. She could cut the enemy's throat while talking and laughing, even stepping on them.
"This 5% concession will soon be returned with interest."
Mary picked up the slightly cooled black tea on the table and took a sip.
"By the time the Christmas sales war ends, those distributors who defaulted on payments will face bankruptcy due to insufficient inventory and failed fund recovery."
"For the Harrison Chamber of Commerce to fully acquire them, they will need considerable financial support."
"At that time, Morstan Enterprises will not only be able to acquire the Harrison Chamber of Commerce's shares at the lowest possible borrowing interest rate, but will also naturally reorganize the South Shore distribution channels, replacing them with dogs who truly understand who to wag their tails for."
"What an excellent plan, Miss!"
Butler William's clouded eyes shone with pure admiration and awe.
"I will immediately instruct the finance and legal departments to prepare the documents and have them delivered to those ungrateful people's desks by tomorrow morning."
"On top of these two matters."
Mary placed the teacup down and softened her tone slightly.
"Contact the editor of The Guardian and inform them that the Morstan family heir is willing to grant an exclusive interview."
"I hope tomorrow morning's edition will feature a heartwarming article about East End workers falling into panic due to false rumors, and how the Morstan company not only did not abandon them but personally provided Christmas bonuses."
"Yes, understood. I will begin preparations immediately. Dinner will be ready shortly."
William bowed and left the study.
When the heavy oak door closed again, only the soft crackling of burning logs in the fireplace remained in the study.
Mary's smile faded. She tiredly rubbed her temples.
She had appeared very composed in front of William, but handling such a complex crisis in such a short time was not easy for her either.
Moreover, every step she took now was on the edge of a cliff.
"In the end, Russell was right. Old foxes have a better sense of smell than dogs."
The girl muttered to herself while gazing at the blank parchment beside her.
What she needed most right now was information and evidence.
Letters exchanged in secret by uncles and aunts, financial loopholes, even mistresses and illegitimate children…
If she mastered these techniques, she could deliver a fatal blow whenever necessary.
Across all of London, there was only one person capable of sneaking into a heavily guarded mansion unnoticed and stealing these items from a safe.
"I just said I didn't want to rely on him too much…"
The girl rested her chin on her hand with a troubled expression, then slightly lifted her lowered lips.
"But relying on him a little doesn't seem like such a bad thing."
She said quietly.
"Christmas is coming soon. Think of it as a present to myself."