Chapter 5 Tricks for Dummies
BAM.
My hand slammed onto the desk so hard my elbow went numb.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from yelping, that table was solid wood, not fluff.
But it worked. Gisella froze, eyes wide.
The "real" Ilse would never snap at her like this.
But screw manners. I needed to shut this poison talk down before she actually went to the black market.
"I-Ilse? You..." She stammered, looking half-confused, half-pissed.
I pulled my hand back, hiding the red palm under the table. I gave her the dead-eyed stare I used on interns who leaked internal documents.
"Forget the poison, Gisella. It's a stupid idea."
"Stupid?!" Her pride flared up immediately. She started to stand up, but I grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back down.
"Sit. This is about saving your neck and mine," I barked before she could start shrieking for the maids. "Think. Just use your brain for two seconds. What happens if she drops dead tomorrow?"
"She dies, and Didier forgets her!" Gisella said, like it was the simplest math in the world.
God, this girl's a liability. "Wrong."
I leaned in, closing the distance. "Didier made a public scene at the market today. Everyone saw him. If she turns up dead tomorrow, who's the first person the empire blames? You, the jealous, psycho fiancée."
Gisella shut her mouth.
"Even if we're perfect with the poison, public opinion isn't something you can bury," I pressed.
"If Lysandra dies, she becomes a martyr. A poor, holy girl killed by a cruel noblewoman. She stays perfect in Didier's head forever. You want that? You want him to spend the rest of his life hating you because he's convinced you murdered his favorite saint?"
Gisella didn't blink. The anger on her face started to crack. She was actually thinking. The 'hellish marriage' scenario was sinking in.
"But... if I do nothing, Didier might actually fall for her!" She sounded small, desperate. "I can't just watch, Ilse."
"We're not watching. We're just not being amateurs about it." I felt the familiar rush of a PR strategy forming. "The best way to take someone down isn't physically. It's reputation. Didier likes her because she's 'pure' and 'innocent.' We just need to peel that mask off in front of him."
"So... we frame her?"
"No. We create a situation where she's forced to show her ugly side. We make her look greedy or petty, and we do it so subtly that she trips over her own feet while we sit back and watch."
Gisella stared at me. The silence dragged on. And then her face changed.
The tears stopped. A weird, manic light flickered in her eyes. She grabbed my wrists, her grip so tight her nails dug into my skin. A twisted, insane smile crept across her face.
"You're right, Ilse. A scene is too risky. My reputation would suffer."
She was smiling. But it wasn't a normal Gisella smile. It was the "I'm going to commit a felony" smile.
"We won't let Didier leave me. So we'll just destroy her mentally so he can't want her," she whispered, sounding giddy.
"Ilse! Contact your underground market guy. Don't get poison, get... get stuff to ruin her life! We'll drive her insane until she's kicked out of the temple! Why didn't I think of this before?!"
I felt my soul leave my body.
Wait. Wait.
I was trying to suggest a smear campaign, not a psychological horror movie. I tried to speak, to backtrack, but Gisella was already up, smoothing her skirts, looking like she'd just won the lottery.
"I'm going to the Mercer estate to pull some funds," she chirped, her eyes shining with terrifying intensity. "Write up the plan, Ilse. Tomorrow morning, we start ruining her life."
She waltzed out of the room, humming a little tune.
I sat there, frozen, sweating through my dress. I didn't just defuse the bomb. I'd given the bomber a bigger supply of dynamite.