Chapter 208: Chapter Two Hundred And Seven
In Isabel’s twisted mind, she had caught Camilla’s secret, dirty lover.
"Damon will be so furious," Isabel plotted happily in her mind, gripping her folding fan tightly. "He is the proudest, most powerful General in the entire kingdom. He hates betrayal. When I tell him that his legal wife is meeting strange men in the dirty slums of the lower city, he will absolutely explode."
Isabel let out a soft, wicked giggle.
"He will throw her out of his mansion tonight," Isabel continued her happy thoughts. "He will divorce her immediately. And once Camilla is completely ruined and disgraced, Damon will realize that I am the only noble lady truly worthy of standing by his side."
She waited impatiently near the gates. She fully expected the soldier to return and invite her directly into the General’s private command tent.
Finally, the small side door of the gates opened.
The soldier came walking out. He stopped a few feet away from Isabel. He kept his face blank and professional.
Isabel took a step forward, her bright smile growing even wider. She prepared to walk past him into the camp.
But the soldier held up his hand, blocking her path.
"I am sorry, Lady Isabel," the soldier spoke clearly. His voice was polite, but very firm. "The General does not want to see you."
Isabel completely froze.
Her bright, triumphant smile faded instantly. It dropped off her face, replaced by a look of shock.
She stared at the soldier. She could not process the words she had just heard.
"What?" Isabel asked. She blinked her blue eyes rapidly, entirely bewildered.
She let out a short, nervous chuckle. She thought the soldier must have made a mistake. She thought he had not delivered her message correctly.
"Did you tell him it was important?" Isabel asked, stepping closer to the soldier. Her voice rose slightly in panic. "Did you tell him I have urgent information?"
The soldier did not move. He kept his hand raised, keeping a strict distance between them.
"Yes, my lady," the soldier replied calmly. "I told him exactly what you said. But he does not want to see you."
The soldier took a step backward. He gestured his hand politely but firmly toward her parked carriage, indicating that it was time for her to leave.
"This way, my lady," the soldier instructed her.
Isabel stood in the hot dust. Her face slowly turned a bright, burning shade of furious red.
She looked at the soldier. She looked at the closed gates of the camp. The reality of the situation crashed down on her heavy pride. She had dressed up beautifully. She had traveled all the way out to the dirty plains. And Damon just rejected her without even taking a single step outside to hear her words.
He had shut the door right in her face.
Isabel was completely humiliated.
"How dare he?" Isabel thought to herself, her chest heaving with offended anger.
She stomped her foot very hard on the dirty ground. The sudden movement sent a small cloud of brown dust flying up onto her silk dress, making her even more furious.
She did not argue with the soldier anymore. She knew she could not fight a military guard.
She turned sharply to her left. She marched quickly toward her waiting carriage, her face twisted into an ugly, insulted scowl.
The carriage driver quickly opened the door for her. Isabel climbed roughly up the steps and threw herself heavily onto the soft velvet seat inside the dark carriage.
"Drive!" Isabel shouted angrily at the driver.
The driver quickly cracked his leather whip.
The horses neighed, and the carriage began to roll forward, leaving the military camp behind.
Inside the moving carriage, Isabel sat alone.
She gripped her folding fan so tightly that the delicate wooden sticks almost snapped in her hands. She was breathing heavily, trying to control her burning frustration.
As the carriage bumped along the long dirt road back toward the capital city, Isabel’s anger slowly began to cool down. It did not disappear, but it changed. It turned from hot, blind rage into a very cold, calculated focus.
She began to think logically about her failure today.
Isabel leaned back against the soft velvet cushions. She stared blankly at the wall of the carriage.
"Why did he refuse to see me?" Isabel thought to herself, her blue eyes narrowing sharply.
She analyzed Damon’s personality. He was not a foolish, emotional man. He was the Tyrant General. He was a master of war and strategy. He operated entirely on solid facts, clear evidence, and truth.
"I admit," Isabel thought to herself, taking a slow, deep breath to calm her racing heart. "I was a little too hasty today."
She realized her massive mistake.
"Damon is a military general after all," Isabel reasoned in her mind. "If I just walk into his camp empty-handed and tell him his wife is a cheating liar, he won’t believe me. He will just think I am a jealous noblewoman spreading dirty rumors."
She tapped her folding fan gently against her chin, her mind working rapidly to build a new, plan.
"He wouldn’t even believe me without solid proof," Isabel concluded silently. "If I accuse Lady Camilla without evidence, Damon will just get angry at me for wasting his precious time. That is exactly why he told the guards to send me away."
A malicious light sparked brightly in Isabel’s blue eyes.
She knew exactly what she had to do. She could not just tell Damon about the man in the grey coat. She had to show him. She had to catch Camilla in the exact act of betrayal.
"I cannot rely on simple words," Isabel plotted in the quiet darkness of the carriage. "I need real, undeniable proof. I need to know exactly who that man in the grey suit is. I need to know where they meet, when they meet, and what they do in the shadows."
Isabel smiled again. It was a slow, calculating smile.
"I will find the evidence myself," Isabel promised herself, her internal voice filled with a chilling determination.
She began to mentally count her personal gold and resources. She knew many shady men in the lower city who would do anything for a heavy bag of coins.
"I will hire the best spies in the capital," Isabel planned ruthlessly. "I will pay them to follow Camilla’s carriage every single time she leaves the Benson mansion. They will watch her every move. They will track her to the dirty alleys. And when she meets that man again..."
Isabel snapped her folding fan shut with a sharp, loud clack.
"...I will have my spies write down everything," Isabel thought, her heart swelling with renewed, evil joy. "I will bring the written reports, the times, and the locations directly to Damon."
She looked out the small carriage window at the passing trees, her mind completely set on her dark path.
"Just wait, Camilla," Isabel thought, her smile turning wicked. "You think you are so smart, sneaking around in the lower city. But I will expose all your dirty secrets. I will get the evidence, and I will get you out of my way."
