Chapter 389: The Collapse

Oliver held Isolde, practically carrying her into the carriage. As the driver set the wheels in motion, she leaned against him, her breath shallow, the pain seeping into her very bones, creeping through her body like a slow, consuming poison.

For a long while, she said nothing. Then, finally, a single sentence left her lips, barely above a whisper. “Wasn’t there supposed to be another month?”

Oliver tightened his hold on her, his voice breaking. “It wasn’t your grandmother… It was your father. He took his own life to expose the truth.”

A numbing cold washed over Isolde. She did not speak. She did not cry. She did not even breathe.

Oliver gripped her tightly, rubbing warmth into her frozen skin. “He was at peace when he left. He said… he had long awaited this end.” His hands brushed her cheeks; her eyes were dry, lifeless.

Letting her go, he grasped her shoulders, searching her face. “Isolde, if you’re in pain, cry. Let it out.”

Her expression twisted into something unreadable. “Why should I be in pain? Everyone knows I hated him. Why should I grieve?”

“Don’t do this,” Oliver whispered, his heart aching. “Keeping it inside will only hurt you more.”

“I’m not sad.” She sat up straighter, pressing a hand to her chest. “This… was the best ending for him.”

But something was wrong. A tightness coiled in her lungs, and no matter how deeply she inhaled, she couldn’t fill them. Darkness edged her vision.

She gasped, but the air refused to reach her. Then, without warning, her body went limp, collapsing forward.

Oliver caught her just in time. “Isolde! Isolde!”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she forced a fragile smile. “I’m fine… perhaps the dampness of the cell got to me.”

But she wasn’t fine. She trembled violently, her teeth chattering. Clutching his sleeve, she tried to smile, but the words that escaped her lips sounded foreign, as if spoken by someone else. “Oliver, we are both orphans now. No father, no mother.”

“You still have me. You will always have me.”

“I know. I must mourn. I should mourn…” She pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide with distress. “I know I should… but I don’t know why – it hurts. It hurts so much…”

“Isolde, stay with me. Look at me.” Oliver’s panic soared as he saw the trickle of blood at the corner of her lips. He ripped open the carriage curtain, shouting, “To the Bourbon estate, now!”

By the time the carriage skidded to a halt at the Bourbon estate, Oliver was already rushing out, Isolde limp in his arms. “Sadie! Sadie!” he shouted desperately.

Johnathan and Rosemary burst from the house. Seeing his blood-smeared face and Isolde’s unconscious form, Johnathan’s voice turned grave. “Take her to the chamber. Now.”

Rosemary swiftly ordered the servants, “Prepare a room. Bring blankets and hot water.”

As they settled her onto the bed, Rosemary turned to Oliver. “What happened?”

Oliver’s hands trembled as he stroked Isolde’s ashen face. “She found out about Geoffrey.”

Rosemary sighed, her voice laced with sorrow. “He didn’t have to do this.”

Johnathan shook his head. “A son denouncing his mother is a crime in itself, even if justice was served. And to accuse a deceased parent… it was an unthinkable dishonor. But no, he did not have to die. He must have wanted this end.”

Sadie arrived, medical kit in hand. Oliver stepped aside immediately. “Please…”

Sadie nodded and took Isolde’s wrist. But the moment she felt her pulse, her brow furrowed deeply.

Oliver’s stomach twisted. “What is it?”

Sadie’s expression darkened. “Her pulse is chaotic – severe toxin in her blood. Taint of the womb.”

Turning to Rosemary, she said urgently, “Mother, go to the palace. Ask the Queen Mother for an Exozumab Pill.”

Rosemary’s face paled. “Is it that dire?”

Sadie’s voice was firm. “Yes. Very.”

Oliver clenched his fists. “I’ll go. I’ll get it faster.”

“Then go,” Sadie said. Just as he turned, she stopped him. “One more thing – if the Queen Mother has an Estranogen Pill, take that too.”

Rosemary inhaled sharply. “Estranogen? That poison? Why?”

Oliver’s chest tightened. “Why would she need that?”

“Just in case,” Sadie murmured. “If the Exozumab doesn’t work, we may need the Estranogen to force the toxin back. I don’t want to use it. But if we don’t have it, she may not survive at all.”

Without another word, Oliver mounted his horse and rode toward the palace, his body numb to the cold, his mind a storm of fury and despair.

After he left, Rosemary turned to Sadie. “Is she truly that bad?”

Sadie exhaled slowly. “Mother, the poison in her body has been there since birth.”

Johnathan folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “And Natasha?”

Sadie met his gaze, her voice low. “Soon.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“She was never meant for this kind of life,” Sadie whispered. “The poison itself is not the worst enemy. It is grief. True sorrow is what will kill her.”

Rosemary nodded grimly. “Unless she becomes heartless, there is no escape.”

Sadie’s voice was almost a whisper. “But if she were truly heartless… she would not be the person the Queen Mother values.”

Johnathan exhaled. “Geoffrey didn’t have to die. The Queen Mother would have found a way to save Isolde.”

Sadie nodded. “His death was not only for her freedom… it was to cleanse her name. He refused to let his daughter live with the stain of disgrace. I heard his final words in the letter to Peyton – ‘I have found what I sought.’”

She looked down at Isolde’s motionless form, her expression unreadable. “He lived his life with guilt toward his daughter. And he died making amends.”