Chapter 392
Pamela slowly opened her eyes, her hollow gaze fixed on Fermin. Though she already knew the outcome, her heart still ached as if it were being ripped apart. Pamela thought bitterly, “I nearly died for Fermin, only to end up with this cruel reward.”
Seeing Pamela open her eyes, Fermin assumed she had finally come to her senses. He tried to reason with her, saying, “Pamela, you mustn’t be so stubborn. This won’t do you any good. You know I have no heir, and the King and Empress would never allow this.”
Fermin said firmly, “Taking secondary consorts is unavoidable. You must get along with them and not make things difficult. A tranquil household is paramount.”
Pamela’s tears streamed down her face as she listened to Fermin’s cruel, cutting words. A mocking, bitter smile twisted on her lips. “I never wanted to cause any trouble for anyone. It’s you–all of you–who have been forcing my hand all along.”
Pamela thought bitterly, ‘They forced me to take secondary consorts, driving me into utter despair. Even when I tried to end it all by smashing my head against a pillar, it still couldn’t sway their decision.’ Pamela’s heart had turned to absolute ice. She looked at Fermin and said, “Let’s just part ways, you and I.”
Hearing this, Fermin’s face darkened instantly. He said coldly, “After all I’ve explained, you’re still determined to go your own way?”
Fermin said angrily, “Do you even realize what I’ve done for you? I bowed before my father and was left bloodied for your sake. Can’t you ever consider me? It’s just two secondary consorts–it’s not the end of you. How can you be so self-centered?”
Pamela felt an inferno raging in her chest, burning her to the brink of collapse and stripping her of all reason. She forced herself up, fixed her gaze on Fermin, and with every ounce of strength she had left, slapped him across the face. “Why? Why must I be the one to suffer?”
The slap left Fermin momentarily stunned. Only when the shock faded did he realize Pamela had struck him. Looking at the furious Pamela before him, Fermin could only think she was utterly unreasonable. Fermin thought resentfully, “All the other princes can take multiple wives–why should I be the exception?”
Fermin’s patience finally snapped. Gritting his teeth, he snapped, “Clearly you’ve lost your mind after hitting your Guardian Church for seclusion. Don’t come back until you’ve come to your senses.”
Pamela laughed silently. “I should have known it would come to this.”
“How foolish to still cling to hope, to imagine Fermin would ever speak a single word in my defense.”
“Now I’ve lost everything–utterly defeated.”
Fermin stormed out in a rage, still carrying the tonic he had brought for Pamela. Only after stepping outside did Fermin realize the medicine packet was still in his hand. He had meant to use it to placate Pamela, but now the more he looked at it, the more it bothered him. Without a second thought, he tossed it into the pond. I must have lost my damn mind to even bother with that madwoman.
Fermin went to see the Queen. The moment he walked in, his face grim, she knew instantly their discussion hadn’t gone well. The Queen sneered. “Didn’t I tell you? That wife of yours is more trouble than she’s worth. I wanted to tell you to just ignore her, but out of respect for your marriage, I held back. Now that you’ve finally seen her true colors, at least I don’t have to waste my breath anymore.”
The Queen, her voice dripping with biting sarcasm and veiled barbs, thoroughly chastised Fermin. The Queen had never seen a princess consort who dared to walk all over her prince like that. It was only Fermin’s overly indulgent nature that had spoiled her so thoroughly. It’s for the best that the talks broke down. Sending Pamela to Guardian Church would clear the way for Fermin to take secondary consorts and secure an heir.
Fermin kept his head bowed in silence until the Queen finally exhausted her words. Through gritted teeth, he forced out, “As you command, Mother.” He was washing his hands of Pamela. Her life or death was none of his concern.
The Queen responded indifferently, “Just rest assured and wait to take your secondary consorts. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Fermin said, bowing respectfully.
Seeing Fermin’s haggard appearance, the Queen waved him off and said, “You may retire.”
After Fermin departed, the Queen coldly issued her command. “Make it known that Princess Consort Pamela has contracted a grave illness and is to be sent to Guardian Church for seclusion. Send her away immediately.” By now, the Queen couldn’t even stand the sight of Pamela–just looking at her for a moment was more than she could bear.
The palace attendants moved swiftly, swarming into Princess Consort Pamela’s chamber and hauling her to her feet. An elderly maid, addressing Pamela with an air of condescending authority, said, “By Her Majesty the Queen’s order, this old servant is to escort Your Highness to Guardian Church for seclusion. Once your health fully recovers, you will be brought back. For now, you’ll just have to bear with a little inconvenience.”
The maid shot the palace maids a meaningful glance, prompting them to support Pamela and escort her out. Princess Consort Pamela’s head was still wrapped in blood-stained bandages, her face gaunt and deathly pale. Her eyes were hollow and vacant, as if her soul had left her. Anyone who saw her couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity. She was the Princess Consort, yet they cast her aside without a second thought. Even if you raised a cat or a dog, you’d still develop some affection for it. Pamela, however, wore an expression of numb resignation as the palace maids half-supported, half-dragged her toward the exit. Her head throbbed mercilessly, her legs like dead weight beneath her. She struggled to take even a few steps, each movement feeling like an eternity.
The maid’s booming voice cut through the air. “Your Highness, hurry up. Don’t waste any more time!” From the moment the Queen ordered her sent away, Pamela was as good as discarded–a broken doll, nothing more. Dream on if anyone thinks she’ll ever be brought back. And why would the maid show her any courtesy now?
Seeing Pamela struggling to walk, the elderly maid snapped at the two palace maids, “Are you brain dead? Can’t you see Her Highness can’t walk? Put some muscle into it.” The palace maids, their faces turning pale at the maid’s scolding, cast a pained glance at Pamela. One of them whispered, “Forgive us, Your Highness.”
Then, the two of them dragged Pamela bodily out the door. Just like dragging a dead dog. Once inside the carriage, Pamela collapsed, unconscious–her battered body finally giving out under the strain. The carriage carried her out of the city gates of Pidence City, heading straight for Guardian Church.
A few days later, word had already spread about Princess Consort Pamela’s seclusion at Guardian Church. When news of this reached the Beren Manor, they didn’t make a single move–utterly silent and indifferent. Pamela had angered both the King and the Queen. They should be grateful not to be implicated, let alone dare to speak up for her.
The Prime Minister, Silas Beren, grumbled in frustration, “I raised her all these years and married her into such an illustrious noble house, yet she failed to capitalize on this opportunity. Curse my fate for having only one daughter–had I another, I would never have let her come to such a pass.” He had three sons and one daughter. Pamela was his only daughter. The Prime Minister bitterly resented that Pamela had not only failed to secure political advancement for her brothers, but had also managed to ruin herself in the process.
Evelyn sighed repeatedly. “She’s my daughter–how could I not ache for her? But she’s always been far too headstrong, never heeding anyone’s advice. Now she’s brought this misery upon herself.”
“My heart aches only for Lucky–so young, and already motherless,” Silas sighed.
Evelyn said dismissively, “What’s there to pity about just a girl like her? After all, she’s a Duchess. If she misses her mother when she grows up, we can simply bring her mother back.” Her words dripped with disdain. Evelyn thought to herself, ‘Sons are so much better–they don’t give me trouble and at least they can carry on the family line.’
The scandal at Fermin Manor didn’t become widely known. To the outside world, it was only known that Princess Consort Pamela had fallen gravely ill and had gone to Guardian Church for seclusion. Only a select few knew the real reason: this was the Queen’s scheme to remove Pamela as an obstacle, clearing the way for Fermin to take secondary consorts.
Before long, the Flower party the Queen had arranged was upon them. The Queen invited a host of noble maidens to the grand party. To everyone’s surprise, Kurtis’s youngest granddaughter was also among them. Also present was Natasha, daughter of the Minister of finance.