Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 44 - Forty Three

The grand foyer was quiet again. The large crowd of servants had bowed low and quickly scattered, eager to get back to their chores and away from the General’s cold stare. Only a few guards remained standing by the heavy front doors.

Damon kept his face serious, but his mind was still reeling from the violent, terrifying thoughts he had just heard from his wife. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

Camilla was standing politely beside him. She had a soft, gentle smile on her face. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her dark red silk dress. She looked like the perfect picture of an innocent, devoted noblewoman.

But inside her head, a completely different story was unfolding.

"Look at him," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice dripping with heavy sarcasm and deep annoyance.

Damon flinched slightly. He stared straight ahead at the marble floor, forcing himself not to react.

"Look at him acting all high and mighty," Camilla’s thoughts continued to echo clearly in Damon’s mind. "He rolled in here with his wheelchair acting like a big hero. He probably thinks he just saved a poor, weak damsel in distress from a nasty bully."

Camilla let out a loud, internal scoff that sounded like a harsh bark of laughter.

"I was handling it perfectly on my own!" she thought proudly. "I had that arrogant maid exactly where I wanted her. Another two slaps, and she would have not been able to recognize herself in the mirror again. I did not need him to interrupt my fun just to show off his authority."

She shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other. She kept her polite smile frozen on her face, but her mind was rolling its eyes.

"Men," she scoffed internally, lumping the great Tyrant General in with every other annoying man she had ever met. "They are all exactly the same. They always try to take control of the situation. They will only slow you down when you are trying to get real work done."

Damon’s jaw tightened. ’Real work?’ he thought defensively. ’Beating a maid until she bleeds on the marble floor is real work?’

Camilla slowly turned her head. She looked down at Damon sitting in his chair. She gave him a very sweet, very bright smile.

Damon looked back at her. He knew the smile was completely fake, but he could not deny that she looked incredibly beautiful in the morning sunlight.

Then, Camilla’s internal voice spoke again. This time, her tone completely changed. The annoyance was gone. It was replaced by a smooth, dark, and highly inappropriate laziness.

"Honestly," Camilla’s thoughts continued, her eyes slowly dropping from his face to his broad shoulders and his thick chest. "His only usefulness to me is his dick for sexual satisfaction and his perfectly built body."

Damon stopped breathing. His entire body went rigid. His dark eyes widened in absolute, pure shock.

He gripped the wooden armrests of his wheelchair so hard that the wood actually groaned under his strength. He had heard soldiers talk dirty in the camps. But to hear his own wife, who was currently smiling at him like an angel, casually evaluate him as a piece of meat was completely overwhelming.

"I mean, just look at him," Camilla thought lazily, completely unaware of the mental breakdown she was causing. "He is gorgeous. But he is so grumpy. It is really a shame."

She let out a soft, internal sigh of disappointment.

"I wish there were toys here in this historical world," she added in her mind. Her internal voice sounded very wistful and longing. She mentally smacked her lips together.

Smack.

"Yes. A modern, battery-operated toy. Now that would be absolutely divine. So much easier than dealing with a stubborn man."

Damon’s face instantly turned a dark, furious shade of red. The heat rushed all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears. His brain simply could not process the words he was hearing.

Toys? What kind of toys was she talking about? And why was she thinking about them right here, in the middle of the entrance hall?

He had to stop her thoughts. He had to break the silence before his head exploded from pure embarrassment.

"Ahem!" Damon coughed loudly. It was a harsh, fake cough that rattled in his chest.

He quickly looked away from Camilla’s smiling face. He waved his hand sharply toward the few remaining guards standing by the front doors.

"You all may go," Damon ordered. His voice was rough and a little bit higher than usual. "Return to your posts outside. I do not need you here."

"Yes, General!" the guards replied quickly.

They saluted and marched out the front doors, closing them firmly.

The large foyer was finally completely empty, except for Damon and Camilla.

Damon took a deep, shaky breath. He tried to calm his racing heart. He refused to look at his wife. He just stared at a crack in the marble floor.

A moment later, the side door opened. Kade walked back into the foyer. The aide had just finished organizing the morning patrols. He walked over to Damon’s wheelchair and stood at attention. His face looked very serious.

"My Lord," Kade said, bowing his head respectfully.

Damon felt a wave of relief. He was glad Kade was back. It gave him an excuse to focus on real, military business instead of his wife’s scandalous thoughts. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"What is it, Kade?" Damon asked, making his voice sound deep and commanding again.

"My Lord," Kade continued, lowering his voice slightly so his words would not echo in the large hall. "The guards just removed the body from the courtyard. Should I investigate the death of the assassin? Should I question the night watchmen to see how he entered the grounds?"

Camilla, who was still standing quietly beside the wheelchair, completely froze.

Her polite smile vanished instantly. Her eyes went wide. Her heart gave a sudden, hard thump against her ribs.

"Crap!" Camilla’s mind jolted with sudden panic. Her internal voice was loud and frantic.

Damon heard her sudden fear. He slowly turned his head to look at her. She was staring at Kade with wide, worried eyes.

"Will they find out it is me?" Camilla thought rapidly, her mind racing through the events of the previous night. "I dragged him across the floor. I pushed him over the balcony. Did I leave fingerprints? They do not have fingerprint technology here, do they? What if someone saw me?"

She quickly tried to defend herself in her own mind.

"But it is not my fault!" Camilla argued internally, sounding deeply offended by her own panic. "He came into my room with a pillow! He was going to smother me in my sleep! It was a pure kill-or-be-killed situation! Self-defense is completely legal!"

She took a slow, calming breath. She smoothed down the front of her red dress to hide her shaking hands. Her panic quickly turned into dark amusement.

"Anyway," Camilla thought, a cold, wicked smirk forming in her mind. "I am absolutely sure it is that witch Ida who sent him. She probably hired a cheap killer to finish me off while she was plotting against the General. Ha!"

Camilla’s internal voice laughed darkly. "Jokes on her! The assassin got his neck snapped, and Ida is dead! They are probably having a very awkward reunion in hell right now."