Chapter 125: A Trap

Priscilla turned to Vance, her face contorted with anger. “You handle this. He can’t go to the Parliamentary Library.”

Vance, initially indifferent, had acquiesced to his mother's opposition. Now, with her silence, he found a measure of courage, leaving him speechless. He shrugged. “If he wants to go, let him. We can always get Braden a position later.”

Priscilla, aware of her son's shortcomings—his lack of education, volatile temper, and inability to thrive in the official world—was displeased. “What position can you get him? Can he really go to the Parliamentary Library? If not, a useless post is no better than honest work.”

Isolde replied calmly, “He has no honest work to do anyway.”

Priscilla shot her a sharp glare. “What’s that to you?”

Isolde raised an eyebrow, replying sarcastically, “What’s it to me? You want him to have honest work, but where’s the money for it? Has Vance earned a single coin on his own?”

Vance slammed the table in frustration, startling Matilda, who was eating. He yelled, “You were lucky to have a good mother, but you ruined her! You’re a curse on this family!”

Isolde didn’t get angry; she only smiled coldly. “Be careful, I have bad luck. You never know when I’ll be the one to bring your whole family down.”

Braden, simmering with resentment, snapped at Isolde. He grabbed his bowl and hurled it at her, shouting, “You little bitch! I’ll kill you!”

Isolde stood her ground, watching the bowl fly. She didn’t flinch; the bowl crashed to the floor, shattering.

Hattie rushed in, her hand landing with a loud slap on Braden’s face. “How dare you offend the County Princess? Do you think you have more than one life?”

Braden, enraged and humiliated, lunged at Hattie, but Priscilla stood and grabbed his arm, glaring at Isolde. “Are we supposed to have a pecking order in this family?”

Isolde stood from the table, moving in front of Priscilla, towering over her. She smiled disdainfully. “There’s no order among people, but there is among character.”

With that, she motioned for Hattie and Hazel to follow as she walked out.

Matilda, sensing that the only person who could stand up to Priscilla had left, and that Priscilla was seething, figured she would be the next target. She hurriedly stood and dragged Michelle away, abandoning her meal.

Priscilla, still fuming, swept her hand across the table, sending dishes flying and crashing to the floor with a loud noise, food splattering everywhere in chaos. Still fuming, she stormed off to Blesertin, with Vance following close behind.

Martha stood up, glaring at Braden with cold malice. “If you want to stop that bastard from going to the Parliamentary Library, break his legs. He won’t dare fight back.”

Braden smirked. “That’s…”

Martha snorted. “It’s not a brilliant idea. Anyone could think of it. You’re just too stupid to realize it. No wonder you always lose.”

Braden glared at her. “I’m your brother, how dare you speak to me like that?”

“Well, what’s it to you? You’re useless,” Martha said as she turned to leave.

Braden grabbed her arm, stopping her. “It’s not easy to act within the house. How about you help me out, and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

Martha paused, then thought for a moment. “Alright, I’ll help you, but you have to do something for me in front of Grandmother.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Martha said with a sly grin.

“Okay, I’ll agree. Tonight, help me bring him to the Westville Hotel. I’ll have someone waiting for him there,” Braden said, pulling her out of the room.

Martha smirked. “If we’re going out, there’s no need for violence. It’s better to ruin his reputation entirely. Let him forget about entering the official world after that.”

Braden’s eyes lit up. “Good. Ruining his reputation is much more final than harming him physically.”

Clark had made his decision that evening and felt a sense of relief. Many worries and hesitations were gone. He had prepared for the worst—if Prudence didn’t support him, he’d find a place to live on his own. Collin was right; opportunities like this might only come once, and if he missed it, there’d be no turning back. He had to think about his future, especially for his children.

“Clark, what are you thinking?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up to see Martha walking in, smiling at him. He paused. Martha rarely spoke to him, and this smile seemed completely out of character—she usually spoke to him with a condescending tone.

“Nothing much. What’s going on?” Clark didn’t show much enthusiasm. He knew her mood could shift quickly, and he wasn’t sure if this smile was genuine or hid another sharp remark.

Martha sat down in front of him, resting her chin on her hand. “Clark, I admire your courage tonight. I really do.”

Clark stayed silent, but his posture softened, showing he was less guarded.

Martha continued, “I’ve always looked down on you for being so obedient to Grandmother and Mother, for lacking any true male backbone. But tonight, seeing you stand firm, even against Grandmother, I owe you an apology.”

She stood, bowing deeply. “I’m sorry.”

Clark smiled and gently placed his hand on her wrist. “We’re family. No need for such formalities.”

Martha chuckled and mischievously winked at him. “You’re not mad at me?”

“How could I be?” Clark smiled warmly.

Martha sighed with relief, a sweet smile spreading across her face. She moved closer and hooked her arm around his. “Tomorrow, you’re reporting to the Parliamentary Library, right? We should celebrate! Let me treat you to a drink.”

Clark smiled, touched by her gesture. “There’s no need for that. Your support means enough to me.”

“Come on, don’t be so formal. If you don’t let me treat you, I’ll never forgive you,” Martha pouted, looking as though she might cry.

“Alright, alright,” Clark relented, laughing. “But just a little. I have to be sharp tomorrow morning.”

“Just a little, then,” Martha said. “Actually, we don’t have to drink much. I just want to talk to you. I’ve got things to say, but Mother would get upset if she knew. So, let’s go out. I really need to talk.”

Clark looked at her pleading face, noticing how different it was from her usual arrogant demeanor. It was almost cute. He smiled and said, “Alright, let’s go for a walk.”

“Great! I’ll just change and be right back,” Martha said excitedly.

As Martha hurried out of the room to prepare, Clark smiled warmly to himself, his heart feeling lighter. Maybe, after all, his family wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

Martha returned to her room, changed quickly, and after some unsuccessful attempts at choosing a hairpin, went to Nicole’s room to ask for one.

Nicole, still recovering from stomach pain, was resting on her chaise lounge. When she saw Martha bustling about, she asked, “Where are you going?”

“To accompany Clark to the Westville Hotel,” Martha replied, rummaging through her jewelry box. She found a gold-and-emerald hairpin and smiled. “I’ll wear this one.”