Chapter 118 Doubts Arise

Isolde fixed her gaze on him, her eyes blazing. "I can lower myself when necessary, but she doesn't deserve it. I have always believed in mutual respect—if you treat me with respect, I will give it back tenfold."

"Still, you expect her to respect you?" Geoffrey's frustration mounted; he could hardly understand her reasoning.

"Does she respect me, or does she want to harm me? I'm not here to play pretend. She has harmed me, and you want me to apologize to her? No, I won't do it," Isolde replied coldly.

Geoffrey sighed deeply, his eyes fixed on her. "You're really stubborn, aren't you?"

"This isn't stubbornness; it's a matter of principle. Everyone should have their limits. Once that boundary is crossed, there's no room for mercy," she said, her voice steady.

Geoffrey's voice grew colder. "Nonsense. We're family; why would there be a boundary?"

"That's precisely why there should be one. Because you're my father. You gave me life, but you didn't raise me. Despite that, I can tolerate your neglect, but I can't tolerate you siding with others to harm me," she replied, her tone biting.

Geoffrey seethed with frustration, his voice rising. "You speak so absurdly. With that attitude, do you think anyone will ever treat you kindly?"

"Then I'll treat myself kindly," Isolde retorted, her voice sharp. "Not letting those who harm me succeed—that's a way of treating myself well."

"Is that what Doug taught you?" Geoffrey asked, his anger flickering in his eyes.

Isolde looked at him with a sarcastic smile. "Yes, Doug taught me everything. You had the chance to teach me, but you didn't want to."

Geoffrey's mind flashed back to a bitter thought: Prunella's daughter will never be as cherished as Matilda's daughter. This was his belief, his opinion.

"Clearly, reasoning with you is futile," Geoffrey said, his voice tense. "You won't apologize, then. Fine. Pack your things and go back to Windermount. Duke's estate can no longer accommodate you."

This was the first time Geoffrey had so decisively told her to leave. Isolde's heart seemed to shatter, like she had been hit by something hard. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes gradually turning cold. She had told herself she didn't care, but deep down, a small part of her still did.

She laughed—bitter, mocking, and full of defiance. "If Duke's estate can't accommodate me, then I'll move to Paletein Manor. There are places in Argentum that will accept me, where people will treat me right. If Paletein Manor doesn't work, I'll go to the Sharp family."

She stood up, lowering her gaze as she added, "It's late, Geoffrey. Please leave."

Geoffrey, beside himself with rage, yelled, "What do you mean by ‘move to Paletein Manor’? You can just leave?"

Isolde's voice was low and measured. "What do I account for? I never had any expectations from you, but you asking me to leave—it's hurtful. I don't know why Mother ever insisted on marrying you. You're cold, selfish, unable to distinguish right from wrong. I believe she must regret it, wherever she is, that she ever chose you."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned her back on him and walked away. Geoffrey stood frozen, a mix of anger and shock filling him. He was determined to send her back to Windermount, as he couldn't let her stay in Argentum and cause more trouble.

As he turned to leave, he met Esme's piercing gaze. Noelle, still concerned for Isolde, went to find Esme.

"It seems Geoffrey hasn't heard what I said before," Esme remarked slowly, stepping forward. Her face was heavily wrinkled, but there was an undeniable authority in her presence. "Let me say a few things that might be hard to hear. The rules of propriety, the lived virtues—those should be upheld. Even the Queen Mother has praised you. But how, Geoffrey, could someone so praised in public end up with a daughter like the County Princess, who loathes you so much? Do you understand why?"

Geoffrey glanced at her, his voice sharp. "Just get to the point."

"Because," Esme said, pressing a hand lightly against her hairpin before shaking her head, "it was your responsibility, and you failed to fulfill it. But let's take a step back—was Prunella truly killed by the County Princess? And even if she was, wasn't Mrs. Langley willing? She gave her life to bring her precious child into this world, only for the man she loved to trample and disgrace her memory. Do you think she can rest in peace knowing that?" Esme's voice grew sharper. "The County Princess is not some roadside weed. She was born of noble blood—her father, a Duke; her mother, the legitimate daughter of the Garrett family. Both sides are from generations of military nobility. And yet, look at her. What has she been reduced to? All these years, she has lived like an orphan, like a beggar. Even everything she has today—she fought ten times harder than anyone else to obtain it. And now that she has it, she has every right to defend it. Should she really have to hand over what she bled and struggled for?"

"You don't understand the County Princess at all. She never provokes others unless they provoke her first. Would she have invited trouble upon herself if Prudence hadn't struck first? Who in their right mind would disrupt their own peaceful life for no reason? And again, let's take another step back—rather than dwelling on the idea that Prunella died giving birth to the County Princess, why not ask yourself this: Why would a perfectly healthy woman develop so many complications during pregnancy and ultimately die in childbirth? And think about what Xavier said—how many of his words have actually rung true?"

Esme curtsied and declared, "I have said all that needs to be said. I will never repeat these words again. But let me leave one final warning—I swore to Mr. Becker that I would protect the County Princess with my life. If anyone dares to harm her, I will turn this world upside down before I allow even a single injustice to befall her." With that, she turned and left.

Geoffrey slowly stepped outside, mulling over Esme's words. So many people had spoken to him about these matters over the years. Occasionally, their words had shaken him—but never like this. Never with such force. Especially when it involved Prunella. Even after all these years, the only thing that could truly strike at his heart was her death.

Memories flashed through his mind—the months of her pregnancy, the strange complications that arose. The only time she seemed well was the month she spent at Montlins Manor—her complexion brightened. Then his mother had fallen ill, and Prunella had returned to care for her. Her health declined almost immediately after.

And then there was Xavier… He had said that Prunella could never rest in peace because she had given birth to her nemesis. Back then, Geoffrey had believed those words without question. But why had he believed them so easily?

More voices, more memories surfaced—things people had told him over the years. One voice in particular stood out: his mother's. So many years had passed, yet some words, some moments remained seared into his mind as if they had happened yesterday.

And then there was Marley—Prunella's maid at the time. She had said something before she left. She had said, "Prunella will never rest in peace." She had wept as she spoke those words. At the time, he thought she meant it was because of Isolde. But now, recalling the sorrow in Marley's eyes, he wasn't so sure anymore. There had been something else. Something deeper. Something he had never questioned—until now.