Chapter 185: Priscilla Is Dead

The golden headdress, delicate golden hairpins, lustrous pearls, ruby earrings set in gold, and coral-and-pearl necklace—all gleamed in the light, a collection of treasures that could blind a person with their beauty. Priscilla and Vance's eyes, bloodshot with greed, lunged forward, desperate to grab whatever they could.

Matilda quickly swept her arms over the pile of jewels, pulling everything in front of her as she fell to the ground, clutching the precious treasures to her chest. A few pearls rolled away, but Vance's sharp eyes caught one and snatched it up instantly. Michelle, quick to react, dashed to seize another pearl. She had seen one just like it at the Marquis Velmont's estate—worth half a million each.

Priscilla, shrieking with fury, grabbed Matilda's hair, yanking her head back and slapping her across the face. "You disgusting bitch! What gives you the right to take things from the Duke's estate? Get up, get up!"

Matilda, buried under the treasures, couldn't rise, so Priscilla pulled her by the hair and slapped her again and again. "You have no shame, you filthy thief! If I don't throw you out right now, it'll be a mercy! You think you can just steal from here? I'll have the authorities drag you and your bastard children away."

Matilda's scalp stung as large clumps of hair were ripped out, and blood quickly trickled down her forehead and face, marks of Priscilla's vicious assault.

The four of them were so consumed by their greed that none noticed Bryant, still half-drunk, pick up a hammer and raise it high. With a wild roar, he grabbed Priscilla by the hair and spat out, "Let go of my mother!"

Priscilla screamed in pain, but seeing the hammer raised above her, sneered. "Go ahead, strike me! See if you can escape if you kill me!" She thought she had Bryant figured out—just another cowardly bully who couldn't follow through on his threats. But this time, she was wrong. Bryant's eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam, and the rusted hammer came crashing down, striking Priscilla squarely on the top of her head. Blood sprayed everywhere.

For a moment, Priscilla didn't move. She stared, wide-eyed, at Bryant's murderous face, at the blood staining his features. She felt the warmth of the blood running down her head, sticky and thick, and then her body crumpled. She twitched a few times, her life slowly draining away. With her last breath, she managed to croak, "You… you…"

Everyone was stunned into silence. Vance, staring at his wife's crumpled, bloodied form, could hardly comprehend what had just happened. After a long moment, he gasped, "You… you killed my wife!"

Bryant, suddenly wide awake, dropped the hammer with a clatter. Without hesitation, he grabbed a pearl from the floor and fled the room. "Stop him! Someone, stop him!" Vance screamed, his voice filled with panic and disbelief.

Matilda and Michelle exchanged frantic glances, too stunned to act, unsure of what to do next. Bryant didn't stop. He ran out, fast as lightning.

Moments later, Ryker arrived with servants. Seeing the horrific scene, he immediately ordered, "Fetch a doctor, and report to the authorities." But by the time the doctor arrived, Priscilla was already dead. She had died a gruesome death, alone in a storeroom filled with clutter and blood. Her children were nowhere to be found—she had no one by her side when she passed. Her husband, Vance, rushed off to chase after Bryant, but he returned too late, hearing only the news of her death.

Ryker reported the incident to Geoffrey, who arrived shortly after. Seeing Matilda and Michelle sitting on the ground, panic written all over their faces, and the scattered jewelry around them—each piece strangely familiar—he stepped forward. Priscilla's body lay at their feet, her eyes still open in horror, a gaping wound on her forehead where Bryant's hammer had struck. Geoffrey walked over slowly, picking up each piece of Prunella's jewelry, wiping the blood from them with deliberate care. His face was dark with fury as he handled the precious items.

Once he had gathered the jewelry, he turned to leave. Michelle, still in shock, suddenly grabbed his leg. "Father," she said, her voice trembling.

Without a word, Geoffrey yanked his leg free and kept walking, not sparing a glance at her or Matilda. As he reached the door, he called over his shoulder to Ryker, "Report to the authorities. Handle it as they see fit." With that, he cradled the jewelry box to his chest, walking out of the room slowly. There was a strange, almost obsessive smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he was holding something precious—something that still belonged to Prunella, even though she was gone.

Soon, the High Magistracy of Argentum sent Camren himself to investigate the murder. The death of someone at the Duke's estate couldn't be ignored, and the magistrates had to handle it with the utmost seriousness. Priscilla's body was taken to the city, and Matilda, Michelle, and Vance were all detained.

Meanwhile, Prudence had just woken up and was immediately informed that Priscilla had been killed. "Where's Clark?" Prudence asked sharply, noticing there were no grandchildren around to tend to her.

"Clark said he was going to the Parliamentary Library for a while," a servant replied.

Prudence's lips curled into a dark, sinister smile. "The Parliamentary Library? He wants to go back there?" She saw through the pretense of filial piety. The moment she fell ill, everyone had betrayed her. If going to suffer, she'd make sure they did too. Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "Have someone report Clark's mother's death to the authorities…"

In this kingdom, officials had to mourn for their parents for twenty-seven months, and they were stripped of their posts during this time—a law not just based on custom but on strict decree. Many officials, who were often not from Argentum, kept their funerals quiet, knowing the authorities wouldn't find out. Even if they did, the punishment was only a demotion. But if someone officially reported the death, the official would be locked out of the court for three years, essentially sidelined.

Clark, who had merely gone to the Parliamentary Library to pick up some books, had no idea that tragedy had struck his family in his absence. He had no idea how badly he'd angered Prudence. When he returned home, he found the house in an oppressive, tense atmosphere. He asked Ryker what had happened and learned of Priscilla's death. He was shaken to the core. The situation was already chaotic enough, but now this. Clark had always called Priscilla his mother, and though their relationship had been strained, hearing of her death still hit him hard. The guilt of the family's troubles weighed heavily on him, especially as he thought about Prudence and how she had brought this all upon herself.

But just as his sorrow began to settle in, a servant from Prudence's quarters came to him with urgent news. "Prudence has already had someone report your mother's death. You'll need to go and officially announce it tomorrow. Don't let it be known that your family reported it while you remained silent." The servant, though kindhearted and protective of Clark, didn't dare speak too openly in front of Prudence.

Clark's heart sank, cold dread washing over him.