Chapter 93 The Trash Proposal
The letter lay on the dining room table, looking like a rotting insect carcass amidst the beauty of the silk tablecloth. Gisella stared at it blankly. A tea invitation from the palace. From Didier.
Her thoughts were in turmoil, her breathing ragged. Seeing the royal wax seal alone was enough to make the remains of her breakfast lodge in her throat. To Gisella, the letter was not an invitation, but a summons to the funeral of her own dignity.
"Look at this!" Her father's voice broke the silence. He snatched the letter with trembling hands, his eyes gleaming, not with affection, but with rotting ambition. "Jackpot. This is a golden opportunity, Gisella. Didier is finally calling for you."
Her mother leaned in, her hand gripping Gisella's shoulder with a firm squeeze.
"Listen, Gisella. You've been cold for too long. The man is a prince. Whatever he does, it's just to test your loyalty. Now, get dressed. Wear the most expensive blue gown. Wear the diamond jewelry we have. We cannot let him glance at another woman again."
Gisella wanted to vomit. She looked at her mother, seeing the lines of power-hunger on her face.
They didn't care if Gisella was broken. They didn't care if her heart had long since died due to Didier's arrogance.
To them, Gisella was just a commodity, merchandise to be polished so it could be sold to the royal family.
"I don't want to," Gisella murmured.
"You have to!" her father barked, his voice booming in the dining room. "If you don't go and fix this relationship, don't expect to have a place in this family anymore. Understood?"
Gisella stayed silent. She had no choice.
Three hours later, Gisella was like a display doll. The tight gown suffocating her breath, the corset pulled until her ribs felt shattered, and heavy makeup covering her sullen face. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Beautiful. But empty. She looked like a stranger.
As the carriage carried her toward the palace, Gisella felt no fluttering. She only felt tired. Extremely tired.
Didier was already waiting on the palace back terrace. He sat with an overly relaxed posture, sipping tea as if he were the owner of the world. As Gisella approached, Didier didn't rise to greet her politely. He only glanced at her, judging her appearance with a familiar, cynical gaze.
"Sit," Didier said without preamble.
Gisella sat across from him. Cold. The afternoon air felt like ice, pressing against her skin.
"I know you're angry because I've been with Lysandra so much lately," Didier started the conversation in his signature tone.
He placed his teacup down, then leaned forward, as if offering a great secret that would change Gisella's life.
"But I've thought about it. I've composed a plan so we can all be at peace."
Gisella remained silent, letting Didier ramble. She wanted to see how far this man's stupidity could take him.
"We will marry. That is an absolute decision," Didier continued, his eyes gleaming with pride.
"But, Gisella, my heart cannot lie. I have an attachment to Lysandra that I cannot simply break. So, here is the solution... Our marriage will run on paper. You will receive the title of Empress. You will have facilities, luxury, and the highest position in the empire. But, practically,
Lysandra will hold the position of Empress by my throne."
Didier smiled, a smile he thought was charming. "This is a fair solution. You get status, I get peace. You don't need to be jealous, and I don't need to force my feelings. Isn't this a smart move?"
He waited. He waited for Gisella to smile, waited for Gisella to shed tears of joy for being offered the position of Empress, even if it was just a figurehead one. He was sure Gisella would beg to accept this deal.
Gisella stared at him. For a long time. She wasn't angry. She wasn't screaming. Her face remained calm, her smile like that of a killer in a thriller movie.
"Finished?" Gisella asked flatly.
Didier frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Are you done explaining your stupid plan?"
Gisella placed her teaspoon onto the small plate.
Clang. The sound of porcelain clashing rang out sharply in the silence of the garden.
She looked Didier straight in the eyes, without fear, without the love that Didier had always assumed was his source of power.
"I don't want it, Didier."
Didier chuckled, thinking it was part of a game. "Don't be ridiculous. You know your position. You need protection, you need status....."
"I don't need that," Gisella cut him off. Her voice was low, calm, but piercing. "I don't need the Empress title you're offering. I don't need the luxury of this palace. And most importantly, I don't need a man like you."
Didier was stunned. His smile faded. His ears rang. What had he just heard? Rejection? From Gisella? From the girl who had always chased him, the girl he considered his most fanatical fan?
"What did you say?" Didier asked, his voice starting to rise.
"I said, I don't want to. I will release this engagement. I will find my own path, far from your political games and Lysandra," Gisella answered.
She stood, smoothing her suffocating gown with a relaxed movement.
"You can keep your Empress title for someone else. I'm tired of being a figurehead in the drama of your life."
Without waiting for an answer, without looking back, Gisella walked away. Her footsteps sounded sharp, hurried, moving away from the tea table, leaving Didier still frozen with a heating face and red ears.
Didier felt as if he had just been slapped by something invisible. He couldn't digest what had happened. Gisella? Refusing? Gisella... leaving?
Something surged inside Didier's chest. Anger? Perhaps. But there was something else. A strange emptiness appeared as he saw Gisella's back retreating. He was used to seeing Gisella there, always looking at him with adoration. He was used to having Gisella as his own.
Now, as Gisella decided not to want him anymore, Didier felt his orderly world suddenly crack. He couldn't accept it. No, he didn't like this. He didn't like how Gisella looked so calm without him.
He was unwilling to let go.
Didier rose from the chair, his hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. He stared at Gisella who was moving further away, and for the first time, he felt that he was losing something he shouldn't have let go.
"Come back here, Gisella!" he shouted.
But Gisella didn't turn back. She kept walking, out of the terrace, leaving Didier alone with his rotten scheme now falling apart on the untouched tea table.
Didier stood there, consumed by a suddenly emerging possessiveness, realizing that the game had changed, and he had just lost control over his main pawn.