CHAPTER 135: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY FIVE

The parchment crackled softly in Marissa’s hands. It was the only sound in the private room of the Golden Swan. The angry heat that had been burning in her chest since she found the letter that morning simply evaporated. It was replaced by a cool, golden sense of satisfaction.

Do I like it?

She looked at the deed again. It was official. It was real. It was power.

Marissa looked up at Derek. Her eyes were no longer sharp or guarded. They were bright with genuine pleasure.

"This place," Derek continued, his voice low and proud. "It now fully belongs to you. It is your private property. It is unrelated to the Thompson estate accounts. It is unrelated to me. It is yours."

Marissa smiled. She ran her thumb over the wax seal on the document. She looked around the room, seeing potential. She saw the profits. She saw the independence.

Derek watched her. His heart felt full, swelling in his chest like a balloon. He had been so nervous. He had been terrified she would throw the deed in his face just like she had closed the door. But now, watching her gift him with that genuine, unguarded smile, he felt like he had won a war.

Marissa looked at him, her smile lingering on her lips.

"This is truly a surprise," she admitted. "I expected flowers. Or perhaps another dress to wear. But this..." She held up the paper. "Why gift me this? It is worth a fortune."

Derek leaned back against the balcony railing. He crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. He had thought about his words carefully. He didn’t want to sound like a lovesick boy, even though he felt like one. He wanted to sound like a partner.

"You are a very ambitious woman, Marissa," Derek said. He said it as a compliment, not an insult. "You wanted the household authority. You fought for it. And after gaining it, you didn’t just sit and drink tea. You studied the accounts diligently. You found the leaks. You audited the books."

He took a step closer to her. He smiled, a look of respect in his eyes.

"You know the value of money, Marissa. You know how to run things. Senna used this place for a different reason. I think you can use it for profit. I think you can turn it into a gold mine."

"I watched you," he said softly. "I saw how your mind works. You like to build things. You like to control things."

He gestured to the empty hall below them.

"I thought you would love to have your own place," Derek explained. "Not just a household to manage for your husband, but a business to manage for yourself. A place that would generate income for you. I thought you would enjoy managing and making more money for yourself."

Marissa stared at him. She was touched. He hadn’t just given her a gift; he had given her acknowledgment. He saw who she really was—not just a wife, but a capable woman—and he didn’t try to change her. He fed her ambition.

"Such generosity, Your Grace," Marissa said, her voice warm. "Gifting a whole establishment. It is extravagant. I must thank you."

Derek’s eyes twinkled. He saw his opening.

"If you want to thank me," Derek spoke, stepping away from the railing. "Then follow me into the market square today. Let us stroll together."

Marissa blinked. She rolled up the parchment carefully.

"Stroll?" she asked. "In the market?"

"Yes," Derek said. "Just the two of us. No guards. No carriage."

Marissa raised an eyebrow. She tapped the rolled parchment against her palm.

"Why is the Duke of Denver strolling the market square in the middle of the day?" she asked suspiciously. "Don’t you have a reputation to maintain? Or a war to plan?"

Derek shrugged. He put on his best serious face, but his eyes were laughing.

"It has been a long time since I checked on the situation of Denver’s marketplace," Derek lied smoothly. "As the lord of this land, I must inspect the... the commerce. The trade. It is important work."

Marissa looked at him. She saw the twitch in his lip. She saw the way he was trying not to smile.

She saw right through him.

"Commerce," Marissa repeated dryly.

"Yes," Derek insisted.

Marissa chuckled. She shook her head.

"There is a pastry shop in the south corner of the square," Marissa said, calling his bluff. "They make the best lemon cakes in the city. They are sweet, tart, and covered in sugar."

She looked at him knowingly.

"That is Ryan’s favorite," she said. "He wrote to me about them just yesterday."

Derek’s serious mask crumbled. He grinned. He couldn’t hide it. He missed the boy, and he knew Marissa missed him too. He wanted to do something that connected them to Ryan.

"You caught me," Derek admitted. "I thought we could buy some. Send a fresh batch to the northern estate for him."

Marissa smiled. It was a sweet gesture.

"And," she added, teasing him, "I suspect you want one for yourself."

"Maybe," Derek said.

Marissa laughed. She tapped him on the arm with the rolled-up deed.

"Well," she said. "The cakes are very good. But the shop is small and old."

She gave him a warning look.

"I hope you don’t buy the pastry shop if I give them a compliment," Marissa joked. "I don’t need a bakery to manage on top of a dance hall."

Derek looked at her. He looked at the way the sunlight from the window hit her hair. He felt a surge of affection so strong it almost knocked him over.

"Why not?" Derek replied instantly. His voice was serious again. "If you like it, I buy it. If you like the street, I buy the street."

Marissa stopped laughing. She looked at him. He meant it. He would buy the whole city if it made her smile like that again.

She felt her face heat up. He behaves like a child sometimes. She thought to herself.