Chapter 189: Is That All?

40 Pearls

Upon hearing that Isolde had returned, Geoffrey immediately made his way to the Pearl Tower. But as he approached the towering gates, he slowed down, and then, just shy of the threshold, he stopped entirely. A sudden wave of hesitation washed over him. He stood frozen, caught by an overwhelming sense of dread, as if a part of him couldn't quite bring himself to face what lay beyond that door.

How could I have treated her that way? Geoffrey thought, regret gnawing at his heart. How could I have been so cruel? I called her a disaster, a curse, and I lashed out at her—whipping her like she was nothing more than an animal. I let Harlan trick her into drinking the sleeping potion, pushing her away from Argentum, from this family…

She was the child that Prunella had sacrificed her life to bring into this world. Everyone had urged him to cherish her, but he had thrown her away like a stray dog, leaving her to rot in the Windermount estate for fourteen years, as if she were already dead. If it hadn’t been for the court’s pressure, he wouldn’t have even considered bringing her back. Geoffrey had once thought it better to let her live in some distant place, far from him, and die without ever crossing paths again.

Even these last two years, after Isolde returned, had he ever shown her any kindness? No, he hadn’t.

His mind drifted to the first time Isolde had come back from Windermount, hiding behind a large tree, watching him with those bright, hopeful eyes. How had he reacted then? He didn’t remember the words he had spoken, but he couldn’t forget the sight of her walking away, small and lonely, glancing back twice—each time with a flicker of hope, only to have that hope crushed by his indifference.

For two whole years, he had ignored her, and perhaps, in a twisted way, that had been better for her. At least she hadn’t had to endure his cruelty and coldness.

He looked at the dark gates of the Pearl Tower from a distance, and despite everything, he couldn’t move any closer. That was Prunella’s daughter.

He remembered the day Prunella had told him she was carrying a girl. It had been a joyful moment, and he had told her it didn’t matter whether it was a son or daughter—any child of hers would be a treasure in the Duke’s house. Prunella had smiled then, and with her calculating mind, had said that she now understood why her own mother had provided so much dowry when she married, so that, if her husband didn’t treat her well, she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.

She had said that when their daughter married, she would give her everything she had, just so she could live peacefully and without fear. She had vowed to protect their child with all her might. Geoffrey had once believed in his deep affection for Prunella, but in truth, he had failed her.

And now, neither Prunella nor Isolde would allow him the chance to redeem himself. He staggered away, unable to take another step toward the gates, oblivious to the figure standing in the shadows behind them. Isolde, having just emerged from her cold water bath, stood there in a flowing gown, her face pale and icy.

“The suffering my mother endured was mostly due to your stupidity,” Isolde thought, her gaze cold.

She stood in the yard for a long while, letting the reality of her pain settle in. After a brisk cold bath, she felt clear-headed and focused, though the ache in her chest remained. Ryker arrived with a tray of medicine, and Isolde spoke, her voice even: “Do you want to come with me?”

Ryker nodded. “As you command.”

“Then let’s go.”

With her eyes cast downward, she walked down the stone steps and out of the yard.

Inside Prudence’s room, only the servants were around. Nicole and Martha had left to handle their mother’s funeral arrangements. The old servant saw Isolde returning and quickly approached her. “Ah, Isolde’s here? But Prudence is asleep.”

Isolde gave a serene smile, her expression unreadable. “She’s sleeping? That’s good. Let her rest.” She led Ryker into the room.

The space inside was dim and shadowy, as Prudence, ever since her stroke, had become extremely prone to sleep. The windows were shut tight, the curtains drawn, blocking out any light. Isolde approached and opened the windows, pulling back the curtains. Light flooded the room, bright and piercing, illuminating everything in stark clarity.

Prudence, who had been resting on the bed, stirred slightly, and an air of aggression filled the room. “Who’s there?” Her voice was rough, hoarse from sleep and filled with a simmering rage that had been building up for years.

Isolde stepped closer, her smile widening, though it was as cold as ice. As Prudence slowly opened her eyes, Isolde watched her with quiet malice, her own eyes gleaming with disdain.

“It’s me, Isolde. I’ve come to greet you, Prudence. How are you?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Prudence’s breath quickened, her eyes narrowing with pure venom. She twisted her mouth into a grimace, and through clenched teeth, spat out one word: “Leave.”

Isolde laughed softly, the sound ringing with cruel amusement. “You don’t want to see me, Prudence? Sorry to disappoint you.” She waved her hand for Ryker to bring over the medicine.

Ryker brought it over without a word, ignoring the poisonous glare Prudence directed at him. He stepped back, standing silently, his posture calm. Isolde took the spoon and gently stirred the mixture, her smile blooming like a deadly flower. “Don’t worry, this isn’t poison. In fact, it will help your condition. It’s a formula for blood circulation, just like the one you gave my mother.”

Prudence’s eyes widened with fear. The medicine she had forced upon Prunella all those years ago had been cold and filled with toxins, poisoning her slowly. Only Prunella’s strong body had allowed her to survive as long as she did. But this… this was different. Isolde was giving her the same poison now, and she was terrified.

Isolde, seeing the fear in Prudence’s eyes, smiled coldly. “Don’t worry, Prudence. I’m not going to kill you. You still have to live. You need to suffer the same way my mother did when you cut her open. That’s the only way you can pay for your sins.”

Prudence, struggling to control herself, reached out with trembling hands to slap Isolde, but her efforts were weak, and her hand faltered mid-air. She spat, but the saliva only dripped onto her own blanket. Isolde’s eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction as she looked at Prudence’s crumpled face. “Here, drink up. Once you’ve had your medicine, you’ll have enough strength to strike me back.”

She held the spoon up to Prudence’s lips, but Prudence spat at it, her anger bubbling over. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t fight back, yet her eyes still burned with hatred. Isolde’s face hardened, her smile fading. She dropped the spoon to the floor and seized Prudence’s chin with a cruel grip, forcing her head back. With the rim of the bowl pressing against Prudence’s lips, Isolde pried her mouth open, pushing her fingers upward until Prudence’s teeth parted. Then, she poured the entire bowl of medicine down her throat.

Prudence choked, coughing violently. Her face turned red, her nose began to drip the medicine, and she could barely catch her breath. She gasped for air, nearly suffocating. Isolde dropped the empty bowl on the ground and looked down at Prudence with cold disdain as she continued to cough and struggle. “You’ll drink this every day, whether you want to or not. If you don’t, I’ll force it down your throat.”

Prudence, still gasping, wiped the medicine from her face and sneered weakly. Her voice, hoarse and dripping with contempt, said, “Is this… is this all you’ve got? Even your mother wasn’t this cruel.”

Isolde’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she turned her back, walking toward the door. “Yes, this is just the beginning. This time, I’ve added something special to your medicine. Enjoy it.”

She strode out of the room, and Ryker followed quietly behind her. Moments later, from inside the house, a servant’s scream rang out, “Prudence! What’s wrong? What happened to you?”