Right there on the dirty dock.
And picked up one of the pelts.
Her brows furrowed.
“These are trapper pelts,” she said quietly.
Doyle shifted.
“Well—”
“Freshly prepared,” she continued. “Hand-cured.”
Her eyes lifted to Elias.
For a moment, the noise of the harbor seemed to fade.
He expected disgust.
Arrogance.
Instead, there was something else.
Curiosity.
Maybe even… concern.
Cecilia stood and faced Doyle.
“You’re lying.”
Doyle blinked.
“M-miss?”
She gestured to Elias.
“He’s no thief.”
A ripple of whispers spread through the dock.
Doyle flushed red.
“With respect, miss—your father—”
“My father,” Cecilia said coolly, “did not ask you to murder a man on the docks.”
Elias stared at her.
Was this real?
Or just another game played by the rich?
Cecilia reached into a small embroidered pouch and pulled out a handkerchief.
She stepped toward Elias.
“Your lip is bleeding,” she said softly.
Then she held the cloth out to him.
The entire dock froze.
Elias looked at the handkerchief.
Then at her.
Then back at the cloth.
Winthrop silk.
Offered to a man like him.
His pride screamed at him not to take it.
But blood dripped down his chin.
He hesitated.
Before he could decide—
“Cecilia.”
The voice was cold steel.
A second carriage had arrived.
Marcus Winthrop stepped out.
Tall.
Broad.
His silver-threaded coat gleamed in the sun.
Beside him stood another man.
Nathan Haywood.
Boston’s favorite golden son.
Future husband to Cecilia Winthrop.
Marcus’s eyes swept the dock.
They landed on Elias.
And immediately hardened.
“Well,” he said slowly.
“Look what the tide washed in.”
Nathan stepped forward with an easy smile.
“Miss Winthrop,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be standing so close to dock trash.”
His gaze dropped to Elias.
Then his polished boot casually came down.
Directly on Elias’s hand.
Pain exploded through his fingers.
Nathan leaned slightly closer.
“Careful where you stand,” he murmured.
Elias’s eyes burned with fury.
Marcus looked at Cecilia.
“Get back in the carriage.”
Cecilia didn’t move.
“They were going to kill him.”
Marcus’s expression darkened.
“And?”
The single word hung in the air.
Elias saw the moment Cecilia realized something.
Something ugly about the man she called father.
Marcus turned to Doyle.
“Finish your work.”
Cecilia stepped in front of Elias.
“No.”
The dock went silent again.
Nathan’s smile faded.
Marcus’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“Move.”
Cecilia’s hands trembled.
But she didn’t step aside.
“These men were wrong,” she said.
Marcus stared at her.
Then laughed.
“Very well.”
He turned away dismissively.
“Let the rat crawl off.”
Doyle hesitated.
Marcus’s eyes flicked toward him.
The message was clear.
Not here.
Not now.
The thugs backed away.
Elias slowly pushed himself to his feet.
Every bone in his body screamed.
He looked at Cecilia.
Really looked this time.
At the defiance in her eyes.
At the quiet fear behind it.
For a second, something unfamiliar flickered in his chest.
Then he crushed it.
She was still a Winthrop.
He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I don’t need your pity.”
Cecilia blinked.
“That wasn’t—”
“Keep it.”
He shoved the untouched handkerchief back toward her.
“I don’t take charity from people like you.”
Her expression faltered.
Nathan chuckled.
“See? Even the beggars have pride.”
Elias’s eyes flashed.
“Better pride than rot.”
Marcus’s gaze sharpened.
Elias grabbed what pelts remained and turned to leave.
Before he could take a second step—
Something brushed his palm.
Small.
Cold.
He looked down.
A silver coin.
Pressed quietly into his hand.
Cecilia had done it so quickly no one else noticed.
Their eyes met for half a heartbeat.
There was no pity there.
Only quiet determination.
Elias closed his fist around the coin.
Then he walked away without another word.
Behind him, Marcus’s voice cut sharply across the dock.
“You will regret interfering in matters beyond your station, Cecilia.”
But Elias didn’t turn back.
He kept walking.
Through the shouting harbor.
Past the ships and shouting sailors.
His ribs ached.
His lip bled.
But inside his fist—
The silver coin burned like a secret.
And for the first time in years…
Elias Thorne wondered if every member of the Winthrop family was truly his enemy.