Chapter 182: The Biological Father
In the days plotting her revenge, Natasha suppressed all emotion, fearing even the slightest slip would ruin everything.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Esme said coldly, stepping forward to face Prudence. “The County Princess of Cromwell is very much alive. And she will return to watch you die a miserable death.” Collin had brought them back earlier; they had stood outside, overhearing everything Prudence had said.
“It’s impossible. Isolde is dead,” Prudence muttered, her lips trembling, her body twitching uncontrollably on her left side. “She’s dead! Don’t try to fabricate some lie about her still being alive. She’s gone, on her way to the underworld, reunited with her bitch of a mother, Prunella.”
Anthony threw a letter in her face. “Read it. See if you recognize her handwriting.”
Prudence didn’t pick it up, letting it fall to the ground. She could vaguely make out a few words, but she had never seen Isolde’s handwriting before. A bitter taste flooded her mouth, and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her lips. Her nose began to bleed, too. The world around her seemed to fade as dizziness overwhelmed her. Had she lost?
“Mother… Mother…” Her son’s voice echoed faintly in her ears. She stretched out her trembling hand but grasped nothing. She thought she saw Natasha rising, walking toward her. That old woman still had tears on her face—tears that felt more mocking than sorrowful. Prudence had always despised Natasha—wealthy, powerful, high and mighty, yet pretending to be kind. When Prunella had died, Prudence had rejoiced, seeing Natasha’s face twisted in unbearable pain.
“Take your time to die,” Natasha whispered, leaning down to Prudence’s ear. “I will live, and I’ll watch you suffer slowly until your end.”
With those words, Natasha turned and walked away with her people.
“No!” Prudence screamed, blood spattering from her mouth as she howled in rage, her body crumpling backward.
“Get a doctor, quick!” Vance shouted sharply. Clark slowly backed away and left, Nicole following him. Servants were sent to fetch the doctor. Prudence had suffered a stroke. By the time the doctor arrived, she couldn’t move half her body. After administering medicine and performing treatments, they managed to stabilize her, but the left side of her face drooped, and saliva leaked uncontrollably. She lapsed into unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, Geoffrey was brought to Prunella’s grave. Her tomb was impeccably maintained—not a weed in sight, and fresh flowers bloomed before it. Geoffrey fell to his knees, gazing at his beloved wife’s grave. Thoughts of her tragic death, their daughter’s demise, and his own blindness to it all tore at him. He felt as though life had lost all meaning. He bent low, sobbing uncontrollably.
Kolton and Garrett stood by, their eyes cold and unfeeling, only hatred burning in their gazes. Kolton grabbed Geoffrey by the hair and forced his face down onto the tombstone. “Prunella,” he said in a low, guttural voice, “open your eyes from the grave and see the man you married—the man who ignored sixteen years of familial bonds and, in the end, murdered Snowy, the daughter you fought so hard to keep. He destroyed her, leaving no trace behind. If you have any spirit left, may you never see him again in the afterlife.”
Garrett, who had arrived quickly, was still unaware that Collin and Anthony had returned with news of Isolde being alive. Geoffrey knelt there, his face shifting from utter despair to a strange calmness. He turned to Garrett and begged, “Garrett, please… end it. Kill me.”
Garrett drew his sword with a swift motion, kicking Geoffrey hard. The older man fell to the ground with a crash, and Garrett stepped on his chest, looking down at him from above, his eyes alight with fury and vengeance. “I brought you to Prunella’s grave to kill you. I would rather face punishment from the court than let you live after what you’ve done to her. For Prunella, I will kill you.”
Kolton stopped him, shaking his head. “No, Father. If we kill him, our hands will be stained.”
Kolton’s voice was cold and logical. Geoffrey still held a position of power; if they killed him, no matter their justification, they would face grave consequences. There was no need to stain their hands with his blood.
Garrett’s eyes burned with anger. “No! I can’t let him live. I can’t bear it.”
Kolton took the sword from his brother and, with one swift motion, sliced through Geoffrey’s wrists, severing the tendons. Geoffrey’s arms dropped uselessly at his sides. Kolton sneered. “Let him live. Killing him would only make him a martyr. Let him suffer. He deserves to live and reflect on his sins—just like that old witch.”
Garrett’s rage flared again. “This family… what a mess. All of them are twisted.”
Kolton gazed down at Geoffrey, whose hands bled freely. Geoffrey seemed completely unaware, his eyes distant, as though his soul had already left his body.
“If you still want Prunella’s forgiveness,” Kolton said quietly, “then you need to avenge her death. Go and get justice for her. That will be your only redemption.”
After speaking, Kolton turned and led Garrett away. Geoffrey slowly raised his head, his bloody fingers brushing over Prunella’s name on the gravestone. “Prunella… my dear Prunella…” His tears fell once again, and he laughed weakly, bitterly. “I always thought… I thought Isolde was the one who cursed you… For sixteen years, I treated her with cruelty and indifference. I ignored her, never caring… But now I know… I was the one who killed you.”
“You’ll never forgive me, will you?” His fingers slowly pressed into the bloodied letters. “But I swear, I will atone for this. I will avenge you, Prunella. I’ll make sure she suffers. Only then will I feel worthy to join you.”
Geoffrey stood shakily, tying his belt tightly around his wrists to hold the tendons together. His hands were not entirely severed—Kolton had left him a sliver of life, so he could go on, live on, and seek revenge.
The Duke’s estate was left in ruins. Prunella’s two brothers arrived with their families, searching through the house, taking everything that belonged to her. They took her ancestral tablets with them, severing all ties with the Duke’s family.
Back in his study, Geoffrey found the drawers pulled open, the portraits and items that had once belonged to Prunella gone. His study, though still filled with belongings, felt unbearably empty. He gently touched the space where her portrait had once hung, tears streaming down his face again.
“Don’t worry, Prunella. Your face is etched in my mind. I can see you even when I close my eyes. You’re still with me. You’re still here, by my side…”
The door opened quietly, and Ryker entered. Geoffrey wiped his eyes and looked at him. Ryker approached, his voice calm but firm. “Geoffrey, after you left, Prudence said some things about Prunella’s life. Do you want to hear them?”
Geoffrey’s eyes locked onto him. “Tell me.”
“Prudence said that when Prunella was giving birth, she suffered complications. Isolde was stuck, and Prudence had to cut her open to get her out. Prunella bled out and died because of it. And she also said that Michelle and Clark aren’t your children. Prudence did this to ensure that you wouldn’t have an heir, leaving you with nothing but illegitimate children to raise.”
Ryker’s voice was measured, but there was a weight in the words. He knew everything about Matilda’s children—he knew who their father was.
Geoffrey’s face twisted in horror as the full weight of the revelation sank in. “Who are their children?”
Ryker hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Milton.”
Geoffrey shot to his feet, his face burning with disbelief. “What?”
“Milton’s widow, Samiyah, knows. If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself.”
“They’re siblings?” Geoffrey’s voice was filled with rage.
“They’re not blood siblings. Matilda is his stepsister. When she came to the Blackwell family, she was already eight years old.”
“All of this was Prudence’s plan?” Geoffrey’s eyes seemed to bleed with fury.
“Yes. Prudence saw how much you loved Prunella, and she devised this scheme with Milton. She promised him that if he helped, he would be promoted.”