"Uncle Murry," Camilla said. Her voice was polite, gentle, and welcoming.

She walked a few slow steps toward him.

"Thank you for coming on short notice. I know the journey from the mansion to the camp is very dusty and stressful."

When she had stepped outside the tent five minutes earlier, she had not called for the General. She had simply sent a message to a fast messenger on a horse, instructing him to fetch Mr. Murry immediately. As it turned out, Murry was already on his way to the camp in a carriage to check on her, following the old Duke’s orders to make sure she was having a good time. The messenger had intercepted him just outside the camp gates.

Murry placed his right hand over his heart and bowed deeply to her.

He smiled a very kind, highly respectful smile.

"Anything for you, my lady," Murry replied smoothly. His deep voice carried nothing but pure devotion to the Benson family. "I received your message and came as fast as I could. I would never delay when you call for me."

Brie listened to the way the older man spoke to the young noblewoman. Brie felt a cold, hard knot form deep inside her stomach. She realized how terribly she had miscalculated the situation. She thought the Lady was a lonely, hated wife. But Murry was speaking to her as if she were the most precious jewel in the entire kingdom.

Camilla slowly turned around. She walked back to the desk. She gracefully lowered herself back into Damon’s large, comfortable chair. She rested her hands neatly on the armrests.

"I want to ask a question, Uncle Murry," Camilla stated calmly, looking directly at the older man.

Murry took two steps forward, closing the distance between them. He stood attentively, ready to answer whatever she needed.

"Go ahead, my lady," Murry replied obediently.

Camilla did not look at Murry right away. She slowly turned her head. She fixed her cold eyes directly onto the two terrified women standing near the wall of the tent.

Camilla looked at Brie, whose bandaged hands were trembling. She looked at Mildred, whose face was stained with fresh tears of panic.

"Did grandfather ask someone from the camp to instruct me to wash a figurine?" Camilla asked clearly.

She made sure every single word was pronounced perfectly.

Camilla looked back at Murry, raising her delicate eyebrows in a question.

Murry’s polite smile vanished instantly.

A look of complete, utter confusion washed over his wrinkled face. He stared at Camilla, completely unable to process the ridiculous question. His thick grey eyebrows pulled tightly together.

"How could that be?" Murry replied, his voice rising in deep disbelief and sudden, protective anger.

He shook his head firmly from side to side.

"His grace could never, ever let you do such tedious work," Murry declared fiercely. "You are the Lady of the Benson family! You are the Duke’s granddaughter-in-law. We have hundreds of servants to clean the dust. The old Duke would never ask you to perform the duties of a common maid."

Murry took another step closer to the desk. He looked at Camilla’s face very carefully, his old eyes searching for any signs of distress.

"But why did you ask, my lady?" Murry demanded softly. His voice was no longer just polite; it was dangerously protective. "Did someone bully you? Did someone dare to give you an order?"

Murry slowly turned his head. He glared at the two women in white medical aprons standing frozen in the corner of the tent.

Murry’s posture became incredibly stiff and threatening.

"You can tell me," Murry promised, his voice dropping into a deadly, serious whisper. "I will see to it to the absolute end. I will handle it immediately. Nobody disrespects the Lady of the house while I am still breathing."

Mildred let out a tiny, high-pitched squeak of fear. She tried to step backward, but her back hit the canvas wall of the tent. There was nowhere to hide.

Camilla smiled. The trap had closed perfectly around her enemies.

She raised her hand. She pointed her index finger directly at the two women.

"Mildred Kline and Brie Haven," Camilla answered smoothly, stating their full names without a single ounce of hesitation.

The two names hung in the quiet air like a death sentence.

Murry turned his entire body to face the two women.

His eyes were completely cold. He looked at Brie’s pale face, and then at Mildred’s tear-stained cheeks.

"I will handle this matter personally," Murry announced. His voice was flat, sharp, and carried no mercy whatsoever.

He folded his hands behind his back.

"I will draft a formal letter to the senior soldier in charge of employment records right now," Murry stated firmly, issuing his absolute, unbreakable judgment. "They are leaving this camp today."

The words hit Brie like a heavy iron hammer to the chest.

She completely lost the strength in her legs.

Brie staggered backward. Her vision blurred. Her entire world, her years of hard work, her prestigious position as the head physician, her secret hopes of becoming the General’s wife... it was all completely, instantly destroyed. She had just been fired from the most important military camp in the kingdom. Her medical career was over. She would be disgraced forever.

Brie’s knees gave out. She began to collapse toward the wooden floor.

Mildred, despite her own paralyzing fear, quickly reached out her hands. Mildred grabbed Brie by the arms and helped her stay upright. The two women held onto each other, completely broken and defeated.

"Please," Mildred whispered, crying openly now. "Please, Mr. Murry, we didn’t mean to..."

Murry ignored the crying assistant entirely. He did not care about their apologies. They had tried to scheme against the Lady, and they were paying the absolute price for their foolishness.

Camilla sat in the leather chair, watching them tremble in fear.

But she was not completely finished yet. She still had one final card to play. She wanted to show these two scheming women exactly how completely untouchable she really was.