Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 42 - Forty Two

Camilla raised her hand and gently rubbed her own cheek.

"But my face stings a little bit," she complained to herself internally. "I slapped myself a little too hard. That arrogant human’s hand was painful. Next time, I will just use a pillow to fake an injury."

Damon heard her secret complaint. He looked down at her face. Behind her fake tears, he could see that she actually looked quite annoyed about the slight sting on her cheek. He shook his head slightly. She was an impossible woman.

Damon decided it was time to handle the rest of the household. He needed to reestablish order.

He looked at the three other maids who were still pressing themselves against the stone wall, shaking in fear.

"Call the rest of the staff," Damon commanded them. His voice was deep and full of absolute authority. "Bring everyone to the foyer immediately. Every maid, every footman, every cook. Now." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The three maids nodded rapidly. "Yes, General!" they squeaked. They ran off down the different hallways as fast as their legs could carry them, grateful to escape his cold stare.

Camilla finally stood up from the floor. She smoothed down her dark red silk dress. She stepped back and stood respectfully slightly behind Damon’s wheelchair, playing the role of the quiet, obedient wife.

Within some minutes, the grand foyer was completely full. Over forty servants stood in neat, straight rows. They kept their heads bowed low. The air was incredibly tense. They had heard the screams of the maid. They had heard the rumors of the dead man in the bushes. They were terrified.

Damon sat tall in his wheelchair. He looked over the crowd of servants. His eyes were like cold steel.

"Listen carefully," Damon announced. His deep voice echoed off the high ceiling, reaching every corner of the large room.

"Mrs. Ida is dead," Damon stated plainly. He did not soften the blow.

A collective, sharp gasp filled the room.

Several older maids covered their mouths in shock. Mrs. Ida had run this house for years.

"She was a traitor," Damon continued, his voice turning even colder. "She betrayed this family. She plotted with my enemies. She was responsible for the accident with my horse. She tried to frame innocent people to cover her own crimes. For her betrayal, she was executed last night."

The servants began to tremble. If the General could execute the woman who raised him, he would not hesitate to kill any of them.

"A replacement for the head maid is in order," Damon concluded. "Until a new head maid is chosen, you will all do your duties perfectly. If I hear one single whisper of disrespect toward me, or toward my wife, you will join Mrs. Ida. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord!" the entire staff answered loudly in unison, bowing their heads even lower.

The servants were completely shocked. They had all believed Mrs. Ida. Mrs. Ida had spent the last year whispering terrible things about Lady Camilla. She had told them Camilla was evil, greedy, and unwanted. Because of Mrs. Ida, the entire staff had treated Camilla poorly.

Now, they realized they had been lied to.

Mrs. Ida was the evil one. Mrs. Ida was the traitor. And Lady Camilla, who had been quiet and sad all year, was innocent.

The three maids who had witnessed the slapping scene stepped forward from the front row. They walked slowly toward Camilla. They fell to their knees on the cold marble floor.

"My Lady," the oldest of the three maids spoke. Her voice was shaking with genuine guilt and fear. She pressed her forehead to the floor.

"Please forgive us. We apologize for how we treated you in the past."

The other two maids also bowed their heads. "We are deeply sorry, Lady Camilla," they cried softly. "We were heavily influenced by Mrs. Ida. She told us terrible lies. We were blind. Please forgive our disrespect."

Camilla looked down at the kneeling women.

She quickly put her sweet, gentle, innocent mask back on. She smiled a very soft, forgiving smile. Her eyes looked full of warm kindness.

"Please, stand up," Camilla said out loud. Her voice was as sweet as warm honey. She reached out her small hands as if she wanted to help them up. "It is not your fault. You do not need to cry. You all were deceived by a very wicked woman. I forgive you completely."

The maids looked up at her with tears of gratitude in their eyes. They thought she was an angel. They thought she was the kindest Lady in the entire world.

But Damon was sitting right next to her. And Damon could hear the truth.

While Camilla was smiling like an angel on the outside, her mind was a dark, terrifying storm of pure violence.

"What is the point of apologizing now?"

Camilla sneered inside her head. Her internal voice was dark, heavy, and dripping with pure, ruthless malice.

Damon froze. He stared straight ahead at the wall, listening to her terrifying thoughts.

"You think a few tears will make me forget how you ignored me?" Camilla thought coldly, glaring at the maids behind her sweet smile. "You think saying ’sorry’ fixes a whole year of disrespect? You are all just lucky my fake husband is sitting right here."

Camilla kept her polite smile frozen on her face, but her internal voice dropped into a deadly, menacing whisper.

"I would have dealt with you all, one by one, if Damon wasn’t here," Camilla promised in her mind. "I would have broken your fingers. I would have made you scrub the stone floors until your knees bled. I would let you all know the absolute, painful consequences of crossing me."

Damon swallowed hard. A cold chill ran directly down his spine.

He slowly turned his head to look at her. She was still smiling that beautiful, sweet, gentle smile at the crying maids. She looked so delicate and pure.

But her mind was the mind of a brutal, unforgiving killer.

Damon shifted uncomfortably in his wooden wheelchair. He adjusted his collar, suddenly feeling very warm. Right now, sitting next to his petite, smiling wife in the bright morning sunlight, he felt a genuine sense of unease.

To him, she sounded so incredibly scary.