Chapter 33: The Theatrical Girls

• Pearls

Once the servants had retreated, Michelle turned to Eleanor, her expression hardening. “It’s good that you came today. I have something to ask you.”

Eleanor feigned surprise. “Michelle, ask whatever you wish.”

Michelle’s voice was sharp. “What is going on between you and William?”

Eleanor, who had been all smiles just moments ago, suddenly looked as if she were about to burst into tears. “Michelle, it was a moment of foolishness. I know I was wrong!”

“Of course, you were wrong,” Michelle’s voice carried righteous indignation. “You knew Isolde was already engaged to the Valen family, yet you still entangled yourself with William? A moment of weakness? Don’t be ridiculous. He must have sweet-talked you, and you were foolish enough to believe him. How could you be so blinded? Lusting after your own cousin’s fiancé—if it weren’t for my respect for Uncle, I’d beat you half to death myself.”

Eleanor’s tears welled up as she reached for Isolde’s sleeve. “Isolde, please forgive me. I truly know my mistake this time.”

Isolde slowly withdrew her hand, her gaze cold. “What mistake? You and William are a perfect match—two despicable creatures made for each other. If anything, I nearly got in the way of your grand love story.”

Michelle’s expression faltered for a brief moment, but she held her tongue.

Eleanor dabbed her tears delicately with a handkerchief before speaking again in a pitiful tone. “Isolde, you should still marry into the Valen family. You’ll be the wife, and I’ll be the concubine. I will respect you and serve William together with you. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Isolde almost laughed aloud. This performance was worse than the village theatrics she had seen back in Windermount.

Yet Michelle seemed deeply moved, her beautiful face softening with an air of magnanimity. “It’s good that you realize your mistake. Remember your words today—when you both marry into the Valen family, Isolde will be the wife, and you, the concubine. No matter what happens, you will obey her and defer to her in everything. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Eleanor whispered, still dabbing at her eyes, but the hatred flickering in them could not be concealed.

Michelle then took Isolde’s hand, her tone turning earnest. “I have always wanted you to marry well. William is in high favor in Argentum right now, and he has the Queen Mother’s support. He may not be exceptional, but with his father’s influence, he will do just fine. Besides, he is the only son of the Valen family; the household is simple. Oliver is merely an adopted son and will never inherit the title or estate. If you marry William and bear him two or three sons, your life will be secure, filled with wealth and honor. I am truly happy for you.”

A barely perceptible smirk played at Isolde’s lips. “Indeed.”

Michelle took this as agreement and moved swiftly to her next point. “By the way, Mother mentioned returning your mother’s estates and shops to you. But you are a noble lady—it wouldn’t be proper for you to handle business affairs yourself. Let me manage them for you. You trust me, don’t you?”

Isolde straightened, putting distance between them. Her expression grew frosty as she spoke slowly.

“Michelle, you are mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” Michelle’s face darkened. “Are you saying you don’t trust me? Do you think I would steal from you?”

Isolde’s gaze was unreadable. “First, your wording was wrong. She is your mother, not mine. My mother was the legitimate wife. Yours was a concubine. Second, those estates are not being given to me; they are being returned. They were my mother’s dowry, never your mother’s, nor the Duke’s estate to claim. Third, I entrust the estates to anyone—except you. You are married now, Michelle. As Mrs. Velmont, how can you expect to manage my mother’s dowry? Fourth, you are correct—I do not trust you.”

Michelle’s face twisted with rage. She shot to her feet, slamming her palm onto the table. “What did you just say? Say that again if you dare!”

Isolde smirked. “I believe I was perfectly clear. No need to repeat myself. Also, take back these old clothes of yours—I am not a beggar. I don’t need your charity.”

Eleanor let out a shrill cry. “Isolde, how can you speak to Michelle like that?”

Isolde’s expression turned cold. She jabbed a finger at Eleanor and snapped, “And you! Do you! I don’t know what’s going on in that scheming little head of yours! Your father has lost power, and you can no longer become Marchioness of Eldermere. Now, the only way for you to secure a place in the Valen family is as a concubine. And so, you come crawling to me, hoping I’ll marry William and make things easier for you? Did you forget how you schemed to break off my original engagement to them? You may have no shame, but I do!”

Eleanor went red with fury, unable to find a retort.

Michelle, trembling with rage, pointed a finger at Isolde. “Fine! You won’t even listen to me anymore? I’ll have Father deal with you!”

“Go ahead,” Isolde said coldly. “And take your worthless rags with you.” With that, she swept the bundles of old clothes off the table. The fabrics spilled onto the floor—worn, outdated, and pitifully shabby.

Michelle’s face was ice. “You’ll regret this. Don’t think that just because you’ve earned a bit of merit, you can do whatever you please. This estate is still under Father’s rule, and as for your engagement to the Valen family—you don’t have a say in it. As long as my mother is here, you will do as she says.”

With that, she grabbed Eleanor’s wrist. “Let’s go. Don’t waste your breath on this worthless wretch.”

Eleanor cast Isolde a venomous glare. “Don’t think for a second that I need you. You’re the one being ungrateful.”

Isolde remained seated, utterly unbothered, not even sparing Eleanor a glance. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Michelle. “Oh, by the way,” she said with a mocking smile, “that medicine you gave me—where did you get it? Which imperial physician prescribed it? I’ll be accompanying Princess Aveline to the palace in a few days. Perhaps I’ll ask for some more.”

Michelle’s face paled instantly. “The medicine is wasted on you,” she snapped. “I’ll take it back.”

She turned sharply and barked, “Jacqueline! Bring the medicine to me.”

Isolde let out a low chuckle. “How impressive—you’re already married off, yet you somehow know the names of my new maids.”

Michelle stiffened but quickly covered it with a sneer. “I only asked around out of concern for you, to see if they were trustworthy. And this is how you repay my kindness? You may be a County Princess now, but don’t get too arrogant. In Argentum, there are dozens of County Princesses. Even Duchesses are nothing special.”

With that, she stormed off, dragging Eleanor with her.

To be fair, Michelle wasn’t entirely wrong.

• Pearls

The Eryndral Empire had been at war with the Xianbei tribes for the past two years, draining the royal treasury. To reward officials without excessive spending, the King had granted noble titles freely.

Indeed, there were many County Princesses in Argentum—far too many. Most held nothing but empty titles, no real land or power.

But Isolde was different. She had land, resources, and influence.

Michelle either didn’t realize it or refused to accept it.

After sending the venomous sisters away, Isolde felt in excellent spirits. She instructed Noelle to throw out the unwanted clothes, poured herself a cup of wine, and sat in the courtyard, drinking alone.

Eleanor was getting desperate—her only path left was as a concubine. For someone as self-righteous as her, that was unbearable.

Isolde could hardly wait to see their next move.