Chapter 337: Crumbling Under Pressure

Isolde’s voice was cold and sharp. “I must say, your words are quite astonishing. Oliver is a general, a commander of soldiers, a protector of this land. It has never been his duty to concern himself with trivial household matters. That has always been the order of things—men rule the outside world, women rule the home. Or does the Felton family not follow this principle? Tell me, when Arthur takes a concubine, does he not consult you first?”

Agnes let out a slow, chilling laugh. “What a sharp tongue you have.” Then, her expression turned icy. “No matter how eloquently you speak, at the end of the day, you’re simply watching Cristina die without lifting a finger. Do you have no heart at all? If Cristina hadn’t stepped aside, would you even be standing here today as Oliver’s wife? The very fortune you enjoy was given to you by her! And now, she doesn’t even ask to take your place—only to be a concubine. That is what a concubine is meant to be, after all! And yet, here you are, barely a day into this marriage, already jealous and petty. With a heart this narrow, how do you expect to ever command the Sharp family as its matriarch?”

She then turned to Allan and Pablo. “Grandfather, Father, I will not deny that Cristina has made mistakes. She is stubborn, and yes, she has acted recklessly. But this is still a human life we are speaking of. She has tried to end her life twice in one night—can you not see how deeply she feels for Oliver? Grandfather, you are a man of rules and tradition. Look at Cristina—her lineage, her reputation, her talent and beauty. Would being a concubine truly be beneath her? If not, then why not grant her this position? It would cost Isolde nothing—she would lose nothing—and she would gain the reputation of being generous and magnanimous.”

Allan did not appreciate Agnes’ pushy attitude, but logically speaking, this was indeed the simplest solution. So, he turned to Isolde. “Isolde, do you agree?”

Before Isolde could respond, Pablo stepped in, bowing slightly. “Father, this is unreasonable.”

Allan silenced him with a single look. “Sit down. I am speaking to Isolde.”

Allan’s gaze remained fixed on Isolde, waiting for her response. She stood slowly, her posture regal and unshaken. “I do not agree.”

Agnes’ head snapped up. “You would truly stand by and watch her die?”

Isolde’s voice remained calm, her eyes piercing. “In this world, everything worth having must be earned. I did not become Oliver’s wife because Cristina ‘allowed’ me to. I fought for this. When Oliver fell from grace, she was the first to abandon him. So tell me—what loyalty, what love, what devotion do you speak of?”

She took a slow step forward, her tone cutting like a blade. “And when he rose again, when he returned victorious, when he was named Grand General, suddenly she changed her mind? And now, she is demanding a concubine’s position—using death as leverage? And if I refuse, I am the heartless one? I am the selfish one?”

Her words were sharp as steel, pressing Agnes into silence. “This is a bargaining chip. If I grant her the position of a concubine today, what stops her from demanding my own position as wife tomorrow? Will I be expected to hand it over as well?”

The room had gone deathly silent. “Tell me, then—if threatening suicide is a valid method to get what one wants, shall I draw my own blade and slice my throat open? Shall I say that unless Cristina stays beneath me, I will die? And if she refuses to submit, would she then be the one ‘watching me die’?”

She let the question linger in the air before adding, “I am not well-versed in poetry or philosophy, but I understand this much—nothing in this world comes free. And anything that does will never last. Nor will it earn respect. You may inform her that if she does not wish to remain here as a concubine, I will have her sent back to her family first thing in the morning.”

Agnes paled, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected Isolde to be so ruthless, so decisive, so utterly unshaken. “You…” Agnes stammered, her face flushed with anger and humiliation.

Isolde ignored her, stepping forward and kneeling before Allan. “Grandfather,” she said, voice steady, “Oliver and I have sworn loyalty to each other long before today. We have fought side by side, risked our lives for one another—not just as husband and wife, but as warriors on the battlefield. If Cristina had ever shown Oliver true kindness, had ever stood by him in his darkest days, then perhaps I would grant her a concubine’s position without hesitation. But when Oliver was at his lowest, she not only abandoned him, she contributed to his disgrace. Even now, I have allowed her to remain out of courtesy to Arthur. Otherwise, she would have been sent away long ago. Grandfather, you have always upheld discipline and tradition above all else. But tell me—if Cristina were not Arthur’s sister, would you have tolerated this spectacle? Would you allow a woman to demand a place in this family through blackmail and suicide attempts?”

Allan was silent. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment, he turned to Oliver. “Oliver, tonight is an important night for you. Take Isolde and return to your chambers. I will handle this matter.”

Oliver stood immediately. “Yes, Grandfather.”

“Grandfather!” Agnes panicked, throwing herself forward. “But Cristina’s father was your student! You cannot ignore that!”

Isolde, who had been turning to leave, stopped in her tracks. She turned back around swiftly, her voice laced with sharp authority. “Silence!”

“The entire imperial court knows that our Grandfather is a man of integrity—a man who upholds justice without bias. We have already disturbed him tonight with this nonsense. And now, you dare to pressure him using personal connections? Do you intend to sully his name? To make it appear as if he is willing to bend the rules for his own students? Do you not realize how this would damage his reputation? How dare you?”

Agnes trembled with fury. She had schemed and manipulated all night to force Isolde into submission—only to have it all backfire spectacularly.

Oliver noticed Allan’s expression had darkened slightly. This was not a good sign. Sensing the shift, Oliver gently tugged Isolde’s hand. “Enough,” he said quietly. “Grandfather will decide. Let’s take our leave.”

Isolde nodded. Together, they bowed and exited the chamber.

The door shut behind them. Agnes collapsed to the floor, shaking with frustration. “Grandfather!” she wailed. “It’s just a concubine’s title! What harm would it do Isolde? And she outright defied you tonight—she didn’t give you any face at all!”

Allan’s face hardened, his voice cold. “Who do you think just disrespected me? Do you take me for a senile old fool?”

His sharp rebuke sent Agnes reeling. She had pushed too far.

Finally, Allan turned to Margaret. “Handle Cristina. If she does not wish to stay, send her back.”

Margaret inclined her head. “Yes.” She shot Agnes a cold, cutting glare. “Leave. And come to my chambers later.”

Agnes, defeated and hated, bowed stiffly and left without another word.

Allan turned to Pablo. “Isolde once saved your life?”

Pablo finally spoke. “Yes.”

Allan exhaled through his nose. “Sharp tongue. A warrior’s mind. She will not make life easy in this house.”

Beside him, his wife Heidi chuckled. “On the contrary—I find her quite refreshing.” She smiled knowingly. “And did you notice? Every word she spoke tonight was to defend Oliver. That kind of devotion is rare. He is lucky to have her.”

Allan sighed, nodding slightly. “Perhaps. But let us see how long it lasts.”