Chapter 157: A Scathing Rebuke for Prudence

Prudence straightened, her expression cold and businesslike. "I know you owe Pablo your life. If you ask him, he'll certainly help. So, I propose a deal: you go to Alo to speak on Braden's behalf, and if Braden is freed, I will give you ten million coins."

The offer was clear and straightforward, as one would expect from Prudence—practical and calculating.

Isolde listened, her lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile. She looked at Prudence with piercing eyes, her voice sharp. "Ten million coins? And where do you plan to get that kind of money?"

Prudence's voice turned frosty. "What do you mean by that?"

Isolde casually twirled a strand of red coral, her tone dismissive. "Your money is your mother's. You're using her wealth to tell me what to do? You're calculating, aren't you?"

Prudence's smile twisted into something cruel. "Is it only your mother who has a dowry? Does Priscilla not have one?"

"Oh, she does," Isolde replied with a sneer. "But how much would that dowry be worth when Vance has already lost enough to squander it all? I heard that the money he's lost in Caelmont would be enough for you to remarry ten times over. Is that right?"

The mention of her son was the last straw. Prudence's face flushed with anger; her voice rose. "Such sharp tongue, such venomous words! You even insult your grandmother. Do you think I must come to you for help?"

Isolde's smile was cold. "If you're not coming to me, then who? Who else could help that good-for-nothing son? If there were another way, you wouldn't even have come near the Pearl Tower. You're old, you're sick, and yet here you are, walking straight into my den to be humiliated. Do you think I'll show you any mercy?"

Prudence, shaking with rage, gritted her teeth. "So, what will it be? Will you make the deal or not?"

"No deal," Isolde answered flatly, without hesitation.

Prudence stood slowly, her voice chilling. "Fine. Since Braden is to rot in prison for three years, and I'm too old and sick to help him, I'll just have Clark return to care for me. After all, the King rules with a sense of compassion and filial piety. Surely, he will appreciate Clark's devotion. After three years, if Clark can return to the Parliamentary Library, he will surely be promoted."

Isolde's face hardened with fury, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You… stop right there."

Prudence turned, locking eyes with her, but before either could speak, Vance barged in from the doorway, his voice dripping with tension. "What's this? Do you plan to lay your hands on me now, too?"

Isolde's eyes burned with contempt as she advanced, her voice a cutting lash. "If you weren't about to drop dead any moment now, you wouldn't even be standing. Do you think I wouldn't hit you? You're old and disrespectful, stuck in your foolish ideas of legitimacy, thinking that your illegitimate offspring are the legitimate ones—robbing the legitimate ones of their luck? What nonsense! I'll tell you something—the Langley family is cursed because they married a narrow-minded, venomous, jealous woman like you. You can't stand the firstborn son. You're always scheming, always pressuring him. You let Priscilla run wild with the same malice, letting your own son grow up useless and dependent, a failure living off others. And you sit there, heartbroken, while you rob the firstborn of everything he's owed, all to cover your own filthy deeds. Braden is your grandson, but Clark is no less your blood! Why is Braden in prison? Because he committed a crime! He's as poisonous and narrow-minded as you and his mother. He can't stand anyone succeeding, but can't do anything himself. And now you're blaming others? Three years in prison is too kind. I swear on my life that if Clark loses his position because of you, I will personally ensure Braden is torn to pieces. I'll make sure even in prison, he will be childless and heirless. Do you believe me?"

The venom of Isolde's words hit like a storm, leaving Prudence speechless, her face pale and lips trembling with fury. She wanted to retort, but no words came.

Vance, terrified, stood frozen. This was no ordinary woman. Isolde's words were sharp, merciless, and now, even Prudence herself was reduced to silence.

Finally, after a long moment of trembling, Prudence managed to force out one last threat, her voice like ice. "Isolde, I swear I will make you pay for this."

Isolde's face was as cold and proud as ever, her gaze unflinching. "Save your breath. Whether you let me go or not, I will never spare you. The grudge of a son killed by his mother—that is unforgivable. Don't think I don't know what you did all those years ago. I will settle that score, bit by bit. And about the dowry you stole from my mother—you'd better return every single coin you've spent. If you can't pay it back, I'll make sure your sons and grandsons suffer for it."

Isolde stood tall, her words like a whip cracking in the air. She had learned how to use threats to her advantage—every victory, every defeat was an opportunity to speak her mind.

Prudence, hearing the words "the grudge of a son killed by his mother," turned pale, her heart constricting with rage. The mention of her mother's death cut deep, and a murderous intent flared in her eyes.

For a moment, Prudence swayed, nearly stumbling.

"Mother, that little witch is pure poison. Let's go tell Brother," Vance suggested urgently, coming to her side.

Prudence, her body shaking with fury, slowly turned and fixed him with a burning gaze. Without warning, she slapped him across the face with all her strength.

Vance recoiled, holding his face in shock, his eyes wide with terror. He had never been struck by his mother before—not even scolded this harshly.

"Mother…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Prudence ground her teeth, her face twisted in rage. "Shut up! Go to Geoffrey? Are you blind to the situation? Geoffrey and that woman are in league against us! They're trying to force us out! How could you be so foolish? How could I give birth to such a foolish son?"

Prudence stomped her foot in frustration, her face flushed with anger. A sharp pain shot through her chest as blood rose to her throat, but she swallowed it down, trying to maintain control.

Vance, in a panic, stammered, "Then what do we do? You just said you had a plan to deal with Geoffrey, to get him to give Braden the hereditary title. What now?"

Prudence, her heart heavy with sorrow, looked at him—helpless, lost. She had always compared Geoffrey with Isolde, who, despite her hardships, had come back strong. Geoffrey, on the other hand, was now a person of power and influence, while her own flesh and blood, her rightful heir, was hopeless. Her bitterness surged like a flood.

Vance, seeing her distress, fumbled, his voice cracking. "Mother, please… what do we do?"

Prudence staggered, her vision blurring as she gasped for breath. Her face went ashen, and before she could answer, she collapsed, fainting into Vance's arms.

Vance stood frozen, panic flooding his chest. Two women of power—his mother, and now Isolde—had both reduced him to helplessness. He didn't know what to do.

Outside, Isolde watched them leave, her anger still simmering. The words she had thrown at Prudence had barely scratched the surface, but they had given her a small sense of satisfaction. She needed to keep pressing. She couldn't afford to let this opportunity slip away.

Turning back to Hattie, she said coldly, "Go find Ryker. We need to find Marley." Once she had her grip on the old fool, nothing Prudence or anyone else could do would change the fate of the Duke's estate.