13:48 Sat, 8 Mar 9

The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth Chapter 60: She Didn’t Do Anything Wrong +8 Pearls

Matilda’s eyes widened, her gaze full of rage as she spat, “Are you crazy? If you change the official red-sealed deeds, you’ll have to pay a 10% tax to the government! How reckless can you be? Even if you hate me, you can’t squander the family’s money like this!”

Unofficial white contracts, on the other hand, require no taxes. Regardless of who’s named on them, if you hold an unofficial white contract, there’s always room for dispute, but it’s generally accepted that the contract holds weight.

When the Sharp family gave Prunella her dowry, they never changed it to official red-sealed deeds. This was so Prunella could easily buy and sell without paying the two-percent tax each time. At the time, she had also planned to use the properties to pave the way for Geoffrey’s future. So, when it fell into her hands, she didn’t bother with the official process.

What no one had anticipated was Geoffrey’s rise and subsequent fame in the military, leading to him being honored by the King. After Prunella passed, Prudence inherited a large portion of the estate, still without switching the deeds.

Matilda thought Isolde would never return to the estate, especially now that Prudence had control. So, she saw no reason to bother with the official deeds. Wealthy families wouldn’t be foolish enough to pay unnecessary taxes. To Matilda, Isolde’s actions were completely irrational.

Isolde, however, calmly retorted, “The name on these documents says Sharp, not Duke’s estate. You should care about your reputation.”

After that, she calmly walked out with Vincenzo. Anne and Ryker stepped forward to free Matilda, but she was seething with fury, jumping up and pointing at Ryker, yelling like a woman scorned, “You must be in cahoots with her! Why didn’t you stop her? What did she promise you?”

Ryker was at a loss for words. He had thought Matilda and Milton would eventually see through Isolde’s devious plan, but now, with Matilda so stubborn, it was clear he had underestimated her.

“Matilda…”

“Leave!” Matilda snapped, her fury evident. She immediately ordered her staff to throw him out.

Ryker looked toward Anne for support, but she simply gave him a cold, uninterested glance. With a heavy heart, Ryker walked away, knowing Isolde was now in control and any retaliation would come from her.

As Isolde had promised, she went straight to the magistrate’s office to initiate the official red-sealed deed process. The procedure was complicated, but with the High Magistracy of Argentum overseeing it personally, the usual bureaucratic hurdles were avoided.

When Geoffrey returned to his estate, Ryker immediately reported the situation. Geoffrey’s face turned a deep shade of anger after his confrontation with Isolde. He had previously promised to return her mother’s possessions, but she had come right to his doorstep to take them. Was this how a noble lady behaves? This was robbery! The worst part was that she had never trusted him from the start.

Harlan, noticing Geoffrey’s shifting mood, wisely commented, “Well, Isolde seems to believe that Geoffrey doesn’t trust her, and now she doesn’t trust him either.”

Geoffrey paused, then fell silent, seemingly weighing the words. After a long moment, he sighed and said, “Let her have it. It was always hers to begin with. If she wants it, let her do what she will.”

Ryker felt a chill creep into his heart. He had expected Geoffrey to stand up for Matilda, yet, to his shock, Geoffrey simply allowed Isolde to seize everything without interference. To tie up one’s own mother within their own household—what a grave act of defiance! And yet, Geoffrey had chosen to turn a blind eye.

At that moment, Ryker realized Matilda had completely lost power. Once she fell, he would be at the mercy of Isolde’s retaliation. Thinking of Isolde’s ruthless nature sent shivers down his spine.

After dismissing Ryker, Geoffrey turned to Harlan and instructed, “Go to the Velmont family estate and find out what’s happening with Michelle. Also, see if Doug has gone there to apply pressure.”

Harlan let out a sigh. “Mr. Langley, I really think you should stay out of this.”

Geoffrey looked at him, his gaze heavy with exhaustion and resignation. “Do you think I don’t know Michelle has gone too far this time? But if she gets divorced and sent back, it will be my reputation that suffers.”

“If you interfere now, any chance of reconciliation with Isolde will be lost,” Harlan warned.

“Reconciliation?” Geoffrey sneered coldly. “Do you really think there’s still room for that? Let’s be honest—this so-called father-daughter bond never existed. There’s no point in pretending now.”

Harlan’s expression darkened, but seeing Geoffrey’s resolve, he had no choice but to retreat quietly.

Shortly after Harlan left, Bryant arrived. “What are you doing here now?” Geoffrey’s patience was at its limit. Everything that had unfolded recently had filled him with deep resentment for his own household.

“Father,” Bryant said angrily, “Mother has fallen ill from the stress caused by Isolde, and you’re just going to stand by and do nothing?”

“Is she dead yet? If not, then let’s get on with it.” Geoffrey erupted in fury, pointing at Bryant as he scolded him harshly. “How many times have I told you? Stay out of the affairs of the household! If you should be practicing, then practice. If you should be studying, then study. What business do you have meddling in these matters?”

Bryant froze, staring at his father in shock. Never in his memory had he seen Geoffrey lose his temper like this.

“Get out!” Geoffrey barked, his fury overwhelming him. He kicked Bryant, who stumbled backward, quickly retreating from the room.

Geoffrey, still seething, sent all his servants away before grabbing a bottle of wine and drinking it down in one go. His tolerance for alcohol was high, a habit he’d developed from his military days. But the frustration in his heart didn’t ease; the wine only dulled the edge of his anger.

He staggered to his desk, sighing deeply, and pulled out a scroll. The edges of the scroll were worn, evidence of years of being handled. He slowly unrolled it, revealing a portrait of a beautiful woman, her features delicate and elegant. He gently traced her brows, her eyes, his fingers trembling as he whispered, “Did I do something wrong? Did you care about this daughter of yours? But she caused your death.”

His eyes softened with affection, his voice tinged with sorrow. Through his drunken haze, the memories of the woman he once loved flooded back. He reached out, as if to touch her, but as his hand hovered, the image shattered, vanishing before him. His hand remained suspended in the air, trembling. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Fifteen years. He had never forgotten how she died.

“I hate her. If it weren’t for her, how could she have taken your life?” His body shook as he muttered, “I tried. I brought her back, arranged a marriage for her, fulfilled my responsibilities. But she caused so much trouble. Every time I see her, I remember how you died.”

Tears fell, but then a bitter laugh escaped him. “But I know she didn’t do anything wrong. Where did she go wrong?”

The heat of the summer season felt strangely cold in the room, an oppressive sadness hanging in the air. Slowly, he folded the scroll, placing it carefully back in the drawer and locking it. He ran his fingers along the carvings on the drawer for a moment before letting go and walking out.