Chapter 265: Chapter Two Hundred And Sixty Four
Isabel Ryde walked quickly down the long corridor on the second floor of the Ryde’s House. She was wearing a beautiful, light pink silk dress, but her face did not look beautiful at all. Her features were twisted into an ugly scowl of frustration. Her hands were curled into tight fists at her sides.
She reached the end of the hallway. She stood in front of the double door. This was her father’s private study.
She did not wait for a servant to announce her. She raised her hand and knocked three times, very loudly and impatiently, on the thick wood.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Inside the study, a deep, slightly annoyed voice answered immediately.
"Enter," Lord Ryde said.
Isabel turned the brass handle and pushed the doors open.
The study was large and smelled of old paper and expensive tobacco. Lord Ryde was sitting behind a desk covered with messy stacks of parchment, letters, and detailed maps of the kingdom’s borders. He held a black feather quill in his hand, his eyes scanning a long list of numbers. He looked incredibly stressed.
The King’s new border lockdown was making his secret smuggling plans with General Howe very difficult.
Isabel walked into the room. She let the doors click shut behind her. She marched up to the edge of the large desk.
"Father," Isabel said loudly, her voice demanding his full attention. "When will you deal with that Camilla?"
Lord Ryde did not stop writing. He did not even lift his head to look at his daughter. His graying hair caught the light from the window as he dipped his quill back into the inkwell.
"Not now, Isabel," Lord Ryde replied flatly. His voice was tired and dismissive. "I’m busy."
Isabel’s face turned a shade of angry red. She hated being ignored. She was used to getting whatever she wanted, exactly when she wanted it.
"But you said that days ago!" Isabel argued, stomping her foot against the carpet.
She leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the edge of his desk.
"You promised me you would handle her!" Isabel continued to complain, her voice rising in pitch. "She’s not letting me get close to Damon. She is standing in my way. I hate her so much, father! She’s the reason Damon acted that way with me at the military camp!"
She remembered the terrible humiliation in the command tent. She remembered Damon grabbing her by the hair, and throwing her out like common trash. In Isabel’s twisted mind, none of that was Damon’s fault. It was all Camilla’s fault. She believed Camilla was using dark tricks to poison Damon’s mind against her.
Lord Ryde simply flipped a piece of parchment over. He continued his work, completely ignoring her loud rant. He had treason to plan, and he had no time for his daughter’s petty jealousy.
Isabel saw that her father was still busy. She saw that he was not looking at her. But she could not hold her anger inside anymore. The jealousy was burning her alive. She continued her rant regardless, pacing back and forth in front of the desk.
"She’s such a hypocrite!" Isabel spat out the words, her blue eyes flashing with hatred. She threw her hands up into the air, pacing angrily.
"She plays this terrible, twisted game!" Isabel yelled, her voice echoing in the quiet study. "She pretends as if she doesn’t want him. When she first married him, she cried every single day. She acted like she was terrified of his shadow. But secretly, behind closed doors, she’s seducing him!"
Isabel thought about the recent changes in Camilla. She thought about the confident woman she had seen in the lower city, wearing a simple dress and talking to Allen. She thought about the woman who dared to take back.
"I don’t know what she’s playing at," Isabel complained bitterly, shaking her head. "Because one minute, she acts like she couldn’t live without him. Then the next minute, she acts like she doesn’t care about him at all! And then she goes back to acting like she loves him! It is a manipulative trap!"
Isabel stopped pacing. She stood still in the center of the room. A sudden, cold chill ran straight down her spine. Her angry expression faded slightly, replaced by a look of terrified realization.
She remembered the exact moment Damon had stepped toward her. She remembered his hand grabbing a thick handful of her hair. She remembered the sharp, stinging pain in her scalp as he pulled her head backward.
But most of all, she remembered the look in his eyes.
"And... and," Isabel slowed her words, her voice dropping into a quiet, fearful whisper.
She looked at her father, desperately wanting him to listen to this important fact.
"I think Damon loves her," Isabel confessed softly.
The words tasted like poison in her mouth. She hated saying it out loud, but she could not deny what she had seen with her own eyes.
"That day he grabbed my hair," Isabel explained, hugging her arms tightly around her own chest, shivering slightly at the memory. "I saw it in his eyes, father. I saw the truth. He wanted to kill me."
She swallowed hard. The terror of that moment returned to her mind.
"He wasn’t just angry because I bothered him," Isabel whispered, her eyes wide. "He was ready to snap my neck. And it is all because of that shrew. He was protecting her."
Isabel took a deep breath. The fear quickly turned back into burning jealousy. She could not accept defeat. She could not let another woman have the powerful man she wanted.
"I have to take her out of the picture," Isabel declared firmly, her voice returning to a sharp, loud tone. She clenched her hands into tight fists again. "I must do it before Damon becomes completely entrapped by her. If I wait any longer, he will never look at me."
Lord Ryde finally stopped writing.
He slowly placed his black feather quill down onto the desk. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly between his thumb and forefinger. He let out a long irritated sigh.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at his daughter. He looked annoyed.
"I have more important matters to handle, Isabel," Lord Ryde spoke. His voice was dangerously low and flat. "We will talk about this later."
He reached out his hand, preparing to pick up his quill and resume his work.
Isabel stared at her father in disbelief. She had just told him that her life was ruined, that the man she wanted was slipping away, and he was telling her he had more important things to do?
Isabel’s temper snapped. She lost all of her polite noble manners. She started throwing a tantrum right in the middle of the study.
"If you don’t care about me, father, just say it!" Isabel screamed loudly, her face turning bright red.
She stomped her feet on the floor. She pointed an angry finger at him.
"You are always busy!" Isabel yelled, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. "You never help me when I ask for it! If you won’t help me get rid of her, I will! I will ask uncle..."
Before the name could leave her lips, Lord Ryde’s head snapped up with violent, terrifying speed.
"You will do no such thing," Lord Ryde hissed. His voice was like a cold, sharp knife slicing through the air. His gray eyes widened with a sudden, dark warning.
He knew exactly who she was talking about.
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