Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Troubles and Schemes (Special Chapter)
Fiorensia did not act rashly. She watched, observed, and pieced together the intricate web of deception that had begun to unfold within the Mors estate.

After Rohzivaan’s fall, she quietly conducted her own investigation, speaking to those who had been present, carefully dissecting every detail they provided.

One thing became clear, this was no accident. The staircase had always been a place of elegance, polished to perfection, but never treacherous.

Yet, on that particular day, the edges of the steps had been suspiciously slick.

Fiorensia’s trained eye did not miss the faint traces of a foreign substance wiped hastily away. A deliberate act. Someone had wanted her son to fall.

Her suspicions narrowed onto Lotisia. The woman had wormed her way into Ricardo’s heart and was now eyeing the power that came with the title of Duchess.

But instead of confronting the woman outright, Fiorensia chose patience. She knew her husband would defend his mistress at all costs, and she needed undeniable proof before she struck.

However, before she could tighten the noose around Lotisia, Ricardo intervened.

“The servants were negligent,” he had announced to the estate, his voice booming with authority.

“A child should never have been left alone on the stairs. They failed in their duties, and they will be replaced.”

Fiorensia had clenched her fists as he stood before her, acting as though he were a just ruler handing out punishments.

She saw through the act. He was protecting Lotisia. By shifting the blame onto the servants, he not only shielded his mistress but also weakened Fiorensia’s standing within the estate.

Many of those dismissed had served under her for years, loyal to her before Ricardo had even claimed the title of Duke.

Lotisia stood behind Ricardo, a faint smirk on her lips, knowing she had won this battle. But Fiorensia did not react.

She merely bowed her head slightly and said, “As you wish, my lord.” And so, the cleansing of the estate began.

The old servants, those who had served Fiorensia and the Mors family with unwavering loyalty, were systematically dismissed.

Some were sent away under false accusations of theft or incompetence, while others mysteriously disappeared, never to be heard from again.

In their place, Lotisia brought in her own people, strangers whose allegiance was to her alone.

With each passing day, the estate changed. The halls felt colder, the atmosphere heavier. Whispers spread among the remaining staff, rumors of unseen forces at play.

Accidents became frequent, poisoned food, broken stair railings, and chandeliers that suddenly loosened from their chains. Every incident was subtle, but Fiorensia knew they were meant for her.

Yet, she remained silent. One evening, as she walked the corridors alone, she noticed a faint flicker in the shadows. A figure darted out of sight.

“Spies,” she murmured to herself. Lotisia was having her watched.

Instead of panicking, Fiorensia played along, never letting on that she was aware. She made sure her every action appeared mundane and predictable.

Let Lotisia believe she was growing complacent, that she was slowly losing her grip. But Fiorensia was merely biding her time.

The breaking point came when another “accident” nearly claimed Rohzivaan’s life again.

It was in the middle of the night when a servant came rushing into Fiorensia’s chambers, breathless and pale. “Your Grace! The young master… he…”

Fiorensia did not wait to hear the rest. She flew down the hallways, her nightgown billowing behind her like a phantom’s cloak.

When she reached her son’s room, she found him curled on the floor, gasping for air, his tiny hands clutching at his throat. His face was red, his lips turning blue.

“Poison,” Fiorensia hissed. She knelt beside him, pressing her fingers against his pulse, feeling the erratic beat beneath his skin.

Without hesitation, she pried his mouth open and forced him to swallow the antidote she always kept on her.

Minutes passed like an eternity before his breathing steadied, his body no longer wracked with violent tremors. Fiorensia pulled him into her arms, pressing a hand to his damp forehead.

“You will live,” she whispered, a promise as much as a warning to those who wished him dead. This time, she did not stay silent.

She stormed into Ricardo’s chambers, where he lay entangled with Lotisia, their laughter dying the moment Fiorensia entered.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ricardo sat up, scowling. “Why do you barge in at this hour?”

Fiorensia’s gaze flickered to Lotisia, who merely sat back with an amused expression. The nerve of this woman.

“My son was poisoned tonight,” Fiorensia stated, her voice deadly calm. “And yet, you ask why I am here?”

Ricardo frowned, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he masked it with indifference. “It must have been another careless mistake by the kitchen staff…”

Fiorensia’s patience snapped.

“Another accident?” she cut in. “Like the fall from the stairs? Like the sudden dismissals of my people? Like the way the household I once ruled is now crawling with her filth?”

She pointed directly at Lotisia, who did not even flinch. Lotisia merely chuckled, tilting her head in mock innocence. “Duchess, you wound me with your accusations.”

“I am not accusing,” Fiorensia said, her voice like steel. “I am stating facts.”

Ricardo stood, his frustration boiling over. “Enough! I will not allow this petty jealousy to divide my household.”

Fiorensia stared at him for a long moment, something cold and calculating settling in her gaze.

She had loved this man once. Had fought beside him, built his power with her own hands. And yet, here he was, dismissing her as though she were nothing.

Very well.

If Ricardo thought she would sit by while he and his mistress dismantled everything she had built, he was sorely mistaken.

Lotisia wanted power. She wanted to rule the estate, to erase Fiorensia’s influence entirely. Then let her believe she had succeeded.

Let her think that Fiorensia was broken, that she had lost. Because when the time came when the final move was set into motion.

Lotisia would realize far too late that she had been playing Fiorensia’s game all along.