CHAPTER 126: CHAPTER 125. THE START OF RUIN OF HOUSE ROTHSCHILD

Rothschild Estate

Genevieve had always known Valdemar was careless, petty, indulgent, and dramatic in all the wrong ways, but never once had she imagined the truth would be this ugly.

She stared at the documents spread across her desk, lines of ink and numbers blurring as her vision tightened. Gambling debts. Loans taken under her name.

Promises forged with the remnants of Theobald’s legacy. Everything her late husband worked for, everything meant for their security, bled dry under Valdemar’s reckless hands.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted one of the ledgers. He sold land? Another page. Pawned heirlooms? And another. Borrowed from private moneylenders? Criminals?

Her stomach twisted so sharply she had to grip the table to steady herself. Almost everything Theobald left them—gone. They were swallowed by cards, dice, and Valdemar’s insatiable delusion that one more win, just one more, would fix everything.

And now, Liselotte is nowhere to be found.

Genevieve’s throat tightened. Liselotte, her quiet shield, the daughter who never raised her voice yet always stood between her and the world. The girl who listened to every ramble, no matter how trivial.

The one who could walk into a room of stiff-necked nobles and soften them with a single, gentle smile. The one who soothed tensions with little more than her presence.

The one person who could have helped her untangle this entire mess.

With the emperor dead and Liselotte never marked, everything is supposed to become frighteningly simple. It meant she could be remarried. Passed off. Reassigned like a pawn.

And Genevieve already had a plan, a shameful, desperate plan, to marry her daughter to another wealthy noble. Someone whose fortune could patch the holes Valdemar had torn open. Someone who could drag them back into safety and status, regardless of what Liselotte herself wanted.

Because that’s what an omega daughter is used for: to bring the family honor and wealth, to keep the lineage polished and presentable, to be traded like a fragile, expensive offering meant to secure the family’s future.

That was what Genevieve had been taught her entire life. And she had passed that same belief onto Liselotte, grooming her, sculpting her, and shaping her into the perfect omega bride. Quiet. Graceful. Soft-spoken. Beautiful in a way that soothed a room without effort.

A daughter is meant to be useful. A daughter meant to compensate for the shortcomings of everyone else.

"I should’ve taught Vivianne better," Genevieve hissed under her breath. "She might not be mine, but she’s still a Rothschild. Theobald’s dirty affair..." Her jaw clenched sharply at the thought of Vivianne, her stepdaughter, Theobald’s illegitimate child, and now the empress of the new empire.

Genevieve pressed trembling fingers to her forehead. If only Theobald were still alive, but the thought choked itself before it could fully form. No. If he were still alive, he would’ve divorced her by now. He left her without hesitation to marry the only woman he had ever truly loved: Zara. Vivianne’s mother.

The bitterness coiled hot in her throat.

"Where did I teach Valdemar wrong?" She whispered, her voice raw with frustration.

The debts. The letters. The men who came knocking. All of it was draining, devouring what Theobald had left behind for them.

And now, even the nobles who once flocked around her are gone. Those simpering friends who clung to her for favors, invitations, and influence—suddenly they’re nowhere to be found.

Some had been arrested during the corruption purge. Others simply vanished from her social circles, choosing to distance themselves before they’re dragged down with her.

The truth is harsher for Genevieve, especially when she finally knows that most of them had known about Valdemar’s gambling long before she discovered it herself. They had smiled at her, gossiped behind her back, and quietly stepped away one by one. Better to abandon a sinking ship than to drown with it.

Genevieve sank onto her chair, breath shallow. The empire had changed drastically since the new emperor took the throne from Dietrich, her son-in-law. And raise Vivianne as Empress. Not just the werewolf race, but the current emperor has a whole continent behind her.

Making Vivianne so powerful in her seat as an empress, and she knows that Vivianne is no longer the same young omega who’ll do anything to get her attention or Genevieve’s approval. She’s strong enough to reject her and powerful enough to destroy Rothschild.

Which makes Genevieve have no safety net. No protection.

"What am I supposed to do now?" The room didn’t answer. It only felt colder.

She thought of Liselotte; if she were here, back at the Rothschild estate, they could have already found a way to save the family. The idea of her being gone, missing, or possibly harmed made Genevieve’s eyes sting. She wanted to blame her. She wanted to scream. But underneath all of that, deeper and heavier, was fear.

"I told her to stay. Why did she run away?" She spat through clenched teeth. She cursed the girl’s foolishness, cursed her naivety—completely blind to the sins of the former emperor, conveniently forgetting that Liselotte is an omega too and could have easily been one of his sacrifices.

"Dietrich was a murderer, Mother. Are you really thinking it would’ve been best for Lise to stay?" Valdemar’s voice echoed as he stepped into Genevieve’s reading room. "What good is she to you if she comes back to us dead?"

"The only reason you got all those loans was because everyone thought we were still in-laws with the emperor!" Genevieve snapped, fury boiling over as she hurled a book at him. It thudded harmlessly against the carpet.

Valdemar didn’t even flinch. "We’re still in-laws with the current emperor—just through a different daughter. Vivianne sits on the throne now. She’s easier to talk to. Easier to reason with." He settled casually into the chair across from her, one leg crossing over the other as if they were discussing weather, not ruin.

Genevieve felt her jaw tremble. "As if you can reason with her, have you seen her?"

"Vivianne will be Vivianne for the rest of her life; we give her enough reason, your approval, or your attention. We might break her." Valdemar said, "I know very well about what Vivianne has been seeking."

"I just need ten thousand gold, and we’ll be fine," Valdemar said, as if ten thousand gold were a handful of spare coins and not the bleeding remainder of their dwindling legacy.

She stared at him, her son, her disgrace, her downfall, and for the first time she understood the terrible truth she had been refusing to see. It’s not Vivianne, the illegitimate daughter who ruined their house. Or Liselotte, who’s running away for her safety.

They are sinking because Valdemar is still here, still alive.

-

Borgia Imperial Palace

Red stepped into Roxanne’s office carrying a stack of documents, the heavy door closing behind him with a soft thud. Gerhard followed a moment later, as if already anticipating that his counsel would be needed.

"You like your new house, Red?" Roxanne asked without looking up from the papers already on her desk.

"Better. And it’s warm," he replied with a small smile.

He set the documents down before her, neat and precise in their placement. Roxanne didn’t so much as shift her gaze toward them—her trust in Red is absolute. "Tell me."

"Valdemar de Rothschild has accumulated significant gambling debt," Red began. "Almost ten thousand gold coins. Most of their lands and assets have already been sold. And they still owe eight thousand two hundred twenty-four."

Roxanne finally lifted her eyes, turning them toward Gerhard. "Are any of those remaining assets worth taking? If we tried to buy them?"

Gerhard stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, posture respectful yet unflinchingly firm. "Some parcels of land near the southern border are strategically valuable," he said. "The estates themselves are in poor condition, but the locations could benefit the empire if properly developed. As for the rest..." He shook his head slightly. "Mostly liabilities."

Red added, "Their vineyards are already gone. Their merchant fleet was sold. All they have left are worn-out properties and a few minor titles they tried to pawn off as leverage."

Roxanne leaned back in her chair, tapping a single finger against the armrest—once, sharply. "So they’ve sunk that low."

She didn’t sound surprised. Only mildly inconvenienced.

"The vineyard is good? The merchant fleet might help our future endeavors?" she asked, this time directing the question at Gerhard.

Gerhard stepped forward, posture crisp, hands clasped behind his back. "The vineyard is excellent land, Your Majesty. Old soil, steady yield. And yes—the merchant fleet would benefit our long-term routes. Along with the remaining lands, we estimate a total purchase of five to six thousand gold."

Roxanne arched a brow. "Do we have the gold?"

Gerhard gave a small, confident smile. "Yes. We have more than enough. And this acquisition would serve the empire’s development."

"Good." Roxanne nodded once. Decision made. "Proceed."

Red straightened, ready to move, but Roxanne lifted a hand, halting him.

"And make sure the vineyard is registered under the empress’s name," she added, a slow smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "I want the Rothschilds to know exactly who bought their assets."