Chapter 355: Not Letting It Go

Cristina covered her face, staring at Isolde in shock and fury. “You dare?”

“Dare? Try me,” Isolde smirked coldly, revealing gleaming white teeth that sent a chill down Cristina’s spine. She had always looked down on Isolde. Even after she married into the family, her deference to elders and kindness towards servants made Cristina think she was weak—an easy target. But now, staring at Isolde’s ruthless expression, Cristina realized just how badly she had misjudged her.

“If you dare hit me, just you wait!” Cristina turned and stormed off.

Watching her retreating figure, Hattie mused, “Who do you think she’s going to?”

“Allan.”

“Why?” Hattie asked curiously. “Would he even help her?”

“Allan despises household conflicts,” Isolde replied coolly. “Besides, he’s a scholar, and he has some old ties with her father.”

“That could be troublesome.”

Isolde chuckled. “Troublesome? What’s he going to do? Scold me for disciplining a concubine? At most, he’ll ask a few questions for formality’s sake—I have my answers ready.”

Sure enough, before long, a servant arrived to summon her. Isolde adjusted her robes before making her way to Allan’s quarters. Cristina and Heidi were already there. Cristina’s eyes were red, and a clear handprint marred her cheek. The moment she saw Isolde enter, she glared at her with resentment. Heidi, however, remained expressionless.

Isolde paid her respects as decorum dictated, then asked calmly, “Grandfather, what is it that you’ve called me for?”

Allan’s expression was stern. “Cristina claims you made unreasonable demands of her. When she refused, you struck her. Is this true?”

Isolde raised an eyebrow. “Unreasonable demands? I’d be curious to hear what she considers ‘unreasonable.’ As for striking her—yes, I did.”

Allan’s voice lowered. “Resorting to violence is never right.”

“Grandfather, let me ask you this: Was I wrong to ask Cristina to pour coffee and attend to my bath?”

“That’s servant’s work!” Cristina spat angrily.

“Silence!” Isolde snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. “How dare you interrupt when I’m speaking with Allan? Do you have no manners?”

Isolde, there was a trace of newfound appreciation. “She is Oliver’s concubine, and should be taught properly—but avoid raising your hand when possible,” Allan said.

Isolde’s voice was steady. “Grandfather, a slap now is better than her being beaten to death later.”

Cristina gasped, enraged. “What nonsense are you spouting? Who would dare kill me? You think everyone is as ruthless and vicious as you?”

Even Heidi spoke, her tone mild but questioning. “That’s quite the exaggeration, Isolde. Has anyone in this household ever been beaten to death out of nowhere?”

Allan, too, looked displeased, as if she was treating him like a fool. Disrespecting the matriarch was one thing—but throwing around talk of murder?

But Isolde remained unwavering, turning to Heidi. “Do you know how Cristina became Oliver’s concubine?”

Heidi hesitated. She had heard bits and pieces but not the full story. “I know she appeared at the wedding, knelt, and offered herself. Rosemary approved.”

“You only know half the story,” Isolde said coolly. “Cristina never wanted Oliver. She scorned him. She wouldn’t even consider marrying him as his wife, so why would she willingly become his concubine?”

“She was infatuated with Johnathan. She insulted Rosemary behind her back, calling her old, bitter, and unloved. She bragged that the Queen Mother favored her, that Johnathan despised Rosemary but only tolerated her out of respect for his grandmother.”

“But Rosemary overheard everything. Do you think she would simply let that go? Of course not. She taught Cristina a lesson. Cristina knelt that day not out of devotion to Oliver, but because she had no choice. She wanted to be Johnathan’s concubine, but instead, Rosemary handed her over to Oliver as punishment.”

“You might think I’m exaggerating, but tell me—do any of you doubt Rosemary’s temperament? If I don’t make things difficult for Cristina, someone else certainly will. Don’t believe me? Just wait and see.”

With those words, she had effectively pulled Rosemary into the matter. But Isolde felt no guilt—why should she? Cristina had been caught in Rosemary’s trap; it was only fair that Rosemary remained entangled in it.

In the Eryndral Empire, there were two women no one dared to provoke. One was the Queen Mother. The other was Rosemary. Back when Rosemary served Thelma, she had even dared to contradict her mistress. Many high-ranking officials had suffered under her sharp tongue, and unlike some who only talked, Rosemary acted. If she was truly offended, she wouldn’t hesitate to use force. Because of this, neither the noblewomen of Argentum nor the officials of the court dared to cross her.

Allan took in Isolde’s words, then glanced at Cristina, whose face had gone pale. She offered no retort—because there was none. He had heard rumors of her falling out with Rosemary but never in such detail. Now, hearing Isolde lay it all out, his disgust toward Cristina deepened. So this was the truth—she had broken off her engagement to Oliver not out of principle, but because she had set her sights on Johnathan. She had even preferred being a concubine to him rather than Oliver’s lawful wife.

Allan’s voice was cold. “So that’s how it is. If you despised Oliver so much, there’s no need for you to suffer here. If you refuse to fulfill your duties as a concubine, you may leave.”

Cristina was stunned. Her voice trembled with hurt. “You all just want to drive me away. But wasn’t it you who came begging for my hand in marriage? And now that I’ve become a concubine—now that my status is low—you all trample over me! You claim to be a prestigious family of scholars, but is this how you behave? Do you not fear the world pointing fingers at you in contempt?”

“How dare you?” Isolde snapped. “Do you know who you’re talking to? If even a single word of this gets out and damages Allan’s reputation, I’ll tear your mouth apart myself.”

Cristina’s resentment boiled over. “Where do you get the nerve? You’re just some country girl!”

“That may be,” Isolde said icily, “but cross me, and you’ll regret it. Go on—run back to your family. Complain all you like about that slap.”

The sheer force of her presence made Allan see her in a new light. A true matriarch needed authority—needed to rule the household with an iron will so that the men of the family could focus on their duties without distraction. Cristina, on the other hand, had spoken words that made Allan’s blood boil. He valued his reputation above all else, and if rumors spread, it wouldn’t matter whether they were true or not—people would talk, and that alone was a humiliation.

So when Isolde silenced Cristina so decisively, Allan found himself unexpectedly satisfied. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them all. “Enough. This matter is settled.”

Cristina was stunned. “Just like that? You’re letting it go? You’re siding with Isolde? This is unfair!”

For the first time in her life, she had been completely and utterly disregarded. She couldn’t bear it.