Chapter 190: Finally Meeting

Prudence writhed in agony on the bed, scratching her body and face frantically. Soon, her skin was covered in angry red scratches, blood trickling down her neck and face. She gasped and growled through gritted teeth, her eyes full of hatred, fixated on the retreating figure of Isolde.

“You wretch…” she screamed, her voice raw with rage.

The servant, seeing the blood, rushed forward. “Prudence, please, stop scratching; you’re bleeding!”

Prudence forced herself up, only to collapse back down in exhaustion. Her lips were torn, blood flowing from the corners of her mouth, but the burning itch consuming her body, from her feet to her head, could not be relieved. It felt as if every inch of her skin were on fire.

The itching, however, was excruciating, especially on her face. The areas where the medicine had spilled were swelling, and the pain was unbearable, sharp and gnawing. No matter how hard she scratched, she couldn’t reach the source of the itch, driving her close to madness.

Faint, tormented growls and shrieks could be heard from the main house. The servant hurried to fetch a doctor, who quickly advised a cleansing procedure and prescribed an antidote.

“Increase the dosage…” Prudence hissed through clenched teeth, her body trembling. “Keep it going for several more days.”

Meanwhile, in the Pearl Tower, Isolde was preparing herself for her visit to the Sharp family.

Ryker entered the room, his expression neutral. “Isolde, they’ve called a doctor for her.”

“Let them,” Isolde replied, inspecting her reflection in the copper mirror. “Even if they’ve called a doctor, it won’t matter tomorrow.”

Ryker chuckled darkly. “Indeed. The poison I gave her isn’t so easily neutralized. Even if they manage to counteract it, she’ll suffer for quite some time—itching down to the bone. It’s pure agony.”

Isolde smirked. “Every day, I want her to suffer. Twelve hours a day with no peace, no relief. But as much as I want her to suffer, I’ll let her live. Just enough to prolong her torment.”

Ryker shrugged. “Honestly, I think it’d be kinder to just kill her.”

Isolde’s voice was cold. “Die so easily? Not after everything we’ve been through. No, we’ll make her suffer as we did, for every wound, for every tear.”

She applied a heavy layer of powder, concealing her fatigue. She didn’t want Garrett and Natasha to see her looking so worn.

“Prepare the carriage,” she instructed. “I’ll change into something more presentable.”

Isolde usually preferred simplicity in her attire, but she wanted to make a good impression. She wanted Garrett and Natasha to see her at her best, to spare them the sight of her looking downtrodden.

As she opened her wardrobe, she noticed her clothes had already been taken. The dress she had worn earlier had been left to air, likely picked up by the maids. Her wardrobe was never full, and since she had been sent back to Windermount, only two sets of clothing had been packed for her.

The carriage stopped before the imposing gates of the Sharp family estate. Ryker pulled back the curtain. “Isolde, we’re here.”

Isolde stepped out and gazed at the grandiose gates. Two mighty stone statues stood guard on either side, and as the gates opened, two guards appeared.

As the carriage halted, a guard stepped forward. “Apologies, but Great Marshal Sharp is not seeing anyone today.”

Garrett had returned to Argentum, and his door was closed to all visitors—countless guests waited outside, their carriages lining the street, all hoping for an audience with the Great Marshal. Garrett’s reputation among the military was unmatched; even the current leaders, Pablo and Harrison, had once been his fierce subordinates. So it made sense that the Great Marshal would not entertain anyone, regardless of their rank or station.

Still, visitors came, bringing gifts—an endless procession of items meant to curry favor. Their manners were impeccable, but Garrett was overwhelmed. Thus, no one was allowed in, regardless of their status.

Isolde approached the guard politely. “Sir, could you please let him know that it’s…”

The guard waved her off dismissively. “Go back. Great Marshal Sharp won’t see anyone.”

Isolde bowed again. “I understand. Then would you kindly relay a message to him? Tell him that his granddaughter, Miss Langley, has come to pay her respects.”

The guard hesitated, clearly unsure. He studied her closely. “Miss Isolde Langley? You are…”

Ryker stepped forward, nodding. “This is Miss Isolde Langley.”

The guard, young and unfamiliar with both Prunella and Isolde, didn’t immediately recognize her. But Isolde’s name was well-known—she was a legend in the Sharp family.

The guard, cautious, said, “Please, wait here. I’ll go inform the Great Marshal.”

He hurried inside and made his way to Natasha’s chambers, where Esme and Noelle were already gathered.

“Natasha,” the guard said, catching his breath, “there’s a woman outside claiming to be Miss Isolde Langley.”

“Miss Langley?” Natasha, having just taken medicine for a burning stomach, slowly stood, her body weak but her mind alert. “Is she really here? Where is she?”

“She’s outside. Should I have Esme go check for you?” the guard asked.

Esme and Noelle immediately rushed out, and before long, they returned with Isolde.

As Natasha stood on the stone steps, supported by a servant, she saw Isolde approaching with graceful steps. The moment Natasha caught sight of her, tears welled up in her eyes. The figure before her, dressed in a green gown, walked with the same effortless elegance she had once seen in Prunella. The grace in her step, the light in her eyes—Isolde was the spitting image of her mother.

Tears blurred Natasha’s vision, and she threw her arms open, her lips trembling, but no sound came from her.

When Isolde saw her, a sharp, aching pain pierced her chest, a pain she had never expected. She ran to Natasha, throwing herself into her arms, choking on the word, “Grandmother.”

“My Snowy… my Snowy…” Natasha wailed, her voice breaking as she clung to Isolde. The grief she had bottled up for so long exploded in one painful moment. She sobbed into Isolde’s shoulder, her hands rubbing the girl’s back desperately. “It’s all my fault! I should have never left you there alone at the estate! I should have taken you with me! I shouldn’t have abandoned you!”

Her cries were full of anguish, as if years of suffering had finally erupted all at once. Around them, everyone else wept silently.

Natasha’s daughter-in-law, hearing the cries, rushed over to find Natasha holding a young woman and crying uncontrollably. She understood instantly who this was and stepped forward to offer comfort.

“Don’t stop me! Don’t stop me! My poor daughter, she left me only this treasure!” Natasha’s grief was so intense that she fainted, collapsing into Isolde’s arms.

Overcome with her own sorrow, Isolde crouched on the ground, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Esme, her eyes red, rushed forward to embrace Isolde. “It’s alright, it’s alright, don’t cry. Everything bad is over now. It’s all behind us.”