Chapter 515: Chapter-515
"Of course I do!" the old general boasted, his voice booming across the courtyard. "Do you have any idea how exceptionally handsome I was when I was young? I was the absolute prize of the capital! So many noblewomen were practically dying just for the chance to marry me!"
Heena tilted her head, her sharp, fox-like eyes glinting with absolute mischief.
"Oh, really?" Heena mused loudly. "That is so incredibly fascinating. Because just the other day, Grandma was telling me that back then, you looked exactly like an overly tall, ugly bamboo stick. In fact, she said you were so annoying that she literally wanted to beat you up half the time."
The elite Vanguard guards standing behind the old man instantly bit their lips, desperately trying to suppress their laughter. A few actually had to look up at the sky to hide their trembling shoulders.
Grandpa Marcuset froze, his proud posture violently popping like a deflated balloon. His weathered face flushed a deep, embarrassed red.
"That... that woman!" Grandpa sputtered, looking around frantically to ensure his guards weren’t laughing at him. He pointed a thick, accusing finger at Heena. "She was just playing hard to get! She was completely charmed by my martial prowess! You do not know the real history, child!"
"Whatever you say, Grandpa," Heena smirked, highly amused by how easily the terrifying warlord crumbled at the mere mention of his wife. "Just make sure you look that handsome when the Marquis of Westlake tries to impeach me in front of the Emperor today."
Grandpa Marcuset immediately dropped the embarrassed act. His eyes darkened, returning to the ruthless, blood-soaked general the empire feared.
"Let him try," Grandpa sneered, his massive hand resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword. "I am already looking forward to loudly asking the Marquis why his nephew requires a baby pony to ride properly. I will handle the old fools in the court. You just go handle that bratty prince."
"With pleasure," Heena smiled.
Without bothering to change her clothes, she turned on her heel and headed for the estate’s official carriage, ready to bring her brand-new, terrifying momentum straight through the front gates of the Imperial Palace.
Before heading out to the Imperial Palace, Heena realized she had completely skipped her morning meal. Riding a warhorse at breakneck speed on an empty stomach was one thing, but dealing with the tyrannical Ninth Prince without any food was a surefire way to end up committing actual treason.
She walked up the three wide stone steps leading into the main dining hall, intending to grab a quick glass of water and whatever breakfast the maids had prepared.
But as she reached the top of the stairs, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and out walked Samuel.
He was already fully dressed for the day, wearing an impeccably tailored, dark crimson tunic with silver embroidery that perfectly accentuated his broad shoulders. He looked entirely too put-together for someone who was supposedly a helpless political prisoner.
Heena paused, blocking his path. "Where are you going now?"
Seeing her still in her dusty, dark leather riding gear, Samuel’s eyes crinkled in amusement. He flashed her a blinding, shameless smile.
"Welcome back, Wifey," Samuel greeted smoothly.
Heena immediately recoiled, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust. "We are divorced, please. Make sure you add that word to your vocabulary."
Samuel just scoffed, completely unfazed by her glaring hostility. He elegantly adjusted his sleeves. "Come on, jokes aside. I need to get going. I have some very important work to attend to this morning."
Heena froze.
’Important work?’ What in the world constituted "important work" for a guy who spent ninety percent of his time lounging in her estate, eating her food, and dramatically weeping about being abandoned? Where the hell was he going so early in the morning?
Before he could step past her, Heena shot her hand out and firmly grabbed his wrist, halting him in his tracks.
"Wait, wait, wait," Heena demanded, her fox-like eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. "Where exactly are you going?"
Samuel looked down at her hand wrapped around his wrist, then looked back up into her eyes with an expression of complete, innocent sincerity.
"For shopping," he replied.
Heena stared at him. She stared at him for a long, agonizingly silent moment, her brain practically short-circuiting as it tried to process his words.
’Shopping?’
Heena literally could not believe it. From the exact moment her soul had possessed this body and arrived at the Vanguard estate, she had not gone on a single leisurely shopping trip. Not once. She had been too busy fighting assassins, manipulating emperors, dodging poison, and riding warhorses into the mud to even look at a merchant’s stall!
But this guy? Ever since Grandma Marcuset had officially accepted him into the household, he had been going on shopping sprees like it was his actual profession!
She vividly remembered that early on, she had aggressively used his money to fund her own operations—a ruthless tactic to keep him broke and compliant. But now, it was as if he was violently returning the favor, making it his personal life mission to single-handedly fund the capital’s entire merchant district.
"Shopping," Heena repeated, her voice perfectly flat. "You are dressed like you are about to attend a royal banquet... to go ’shopping’."
"Of course," Samuel nodded, gently prying his wrist out of her grip and patting her hand. "A man has to maintain his standards, Lady Seera. Besides, someone in this family has to keep the local economy afloat while you are busy terrorizing the nobility."
Heena just rubbed her temples, feeling the dull ache of a headache trying to bypass the soothing effects of the Aura Stone.
"You know what?" Heena muttered, waving him off. "Fine. Go. Buy whatever ridiculously expensive nonsense you want. Just don’t put it on the Vanguard’s tab."
Samuel paused at the bottom of the steps, turning back to look at her. A completely unapologetic, infuriatingly innocent smile spread across his face.
"Oh, no, Wife. I am not putting it on the Vanguard’s official military tab," Samuel corrected smoothly. "I am putting it directly on ’your’ personal tab."
Heena froze halfway to the dining hall doors. She slowly turned around, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
"Wait," Heena demanded, her voice dropping an octave. "Why the hell are you putting your shopping sprees on ’my’ personal tab?"
Samuel simply shrugged his broad shoulders, looking entirely far too comfortable with the arrangement. "Well, Grandmother explicitly said that in a traditional marriage, a husband should pay for his wife’s expenses. But in our unique case, the roles are entirely reversed! I stay at home and take care of the household, while you go out and handle the violent, external affairs. So, logically, me using your money just makes perfect sense."
Heena grabbed her head with both hands, her fingers digging into her scalp.
Suddenly, everything clicked. The absolute financial hemorrhage she had been noticing over the past few weeks suddenly made terrifying sense. She had seen the alarming rate at which money was flowing out of her personal accounts, but she had brushed it off! She had assumed the massive expenses were just the cost of hiring all those new estate managers, combined with Grandma handling the household logistics.
But no. It wasn’t the managers. It was this shopaholic hostage!
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