To His Hell and Back-Chapter 509: Mission Succeeded

Isaac’s widened eyes revealed genuine shock, he hadn’t merely failed to acknowledge Riley’s presence; he had truly not noticed her following him at all.

The realization unsettled him because Isaac was not the type to overlook someone trailing so close, and even Cassius, whose senses caught even the faintest shift in air, hadn’t mentioned Riley shadowing them earlier.

Seeing her appear here, in the quiet, dim field of the stable right after they had only just parted ways in the dining room, made him silently question how long she had been on his heels and how he could have missed it so completely.

The confusion hardened into irritation as he shoved her back with a deep frown, his patience already threadbare. "Why are you following me around, Riley?" he demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory.

Riley didn’t even flinch. Instead, she stepped forward again, crossing her arms with a flare of indignation.

"Why? I think I have a much better question than yours. What exactly are you doing out here in the middle of the night, burning pieces of cloth?" she shot back, as if she had caught him red handed in some criminal act. She reached out as if to grab his hand, but Isaac jerked himself away, ripping his arm out of her reach with clear hostility.

"I don’t owe you anything," he snapped. "Maybe you’ve forgotten your place, Riley, but I haven’t. I only answer to my lady’s orders. No one else."

Before Riley could fire back, another voice, smooth, smug, and far too pleased, cut through the tension.

"Not even if I ask what it is?"

Esme’s presence announced itself a moment before she stepped into view, emerging from the shadows with a slow, measured confidence that made it painfully clear she had been waiting for the perfect moment.

Her arms were crossed, her posture regal, her expression a curl of arrogant satisfaction. She walked toward them as though she were taking a stroll through her own garden, shoulders square, chin tilted upward.

What disturbed Isaac more than her tone was her timing; Esme lived in the opposite building entirely, and Riley had only been here for a few seconds, there should have been no way for Esme to arrive so quickly unless something unseen had alerted her. And yet here she was, as if summoned the instant conflict sparked.

"Give me what you’re holding," Esme said sharply, extending her hand with an authority that assumed obedience.

Isaac’s grip on the cloth tightened, knuckles whitening as he clutched it protectively against his chest.

"As I’ve already told your lackey over here," he said, throwing Riley a pointed glare before turning back to Esme, "I am not required to answer to you. My task is for my lady alone, and I intend to carry it out without interference."

Esme’s smirk deepened as she moved closer, stopping only a breath away. "So let me guess," she murmured, her tone dripping with mockery. "Your lady doesn’t want me to know what you’re hiding in your hand. Is that why you’re acting like a cornered wolf? Isaac, don’t be ridiculous. You know very well I have the right to inspect anything on these grounds. Anything suspicious. Anything out of place. And you, burning cloth in the middle of the night while snapping at anyone who questions you, is very much out of place."

She raised her brows as if daring him to contradict her.

Isaac let out a short, humorless laugh. "I don’t think you’re in any position to demand anything from me," he replied, voice low and calm. "And certainly not something that concerns my lady’s private affairs. Are you truly suggesting that you outrank her? That your authority surpasses hers?"

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile sharp enough to cut. "Unfortunately for you, Esme, you’re not even close to being her equal, much less her superior."

"You are not a person to be reasoned with, are you," Esme sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose as though the sheer act of speaking to Isaac drained her last thread of patience.

For a moment she looked genuinely tired, almost human, but the softness vanished in the next heartbeat.

She raised her head with a crisp snap of irritation, her lips pulling into a sharp, triumphant smile as she added, "Well, that’s fine. I never expected you to be someone capable of reason to begin with." The insult was delivered sweetly, almost playfully, but her eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of someone who believed she had already won.

Isaac’s grip tightened protectively around the cloth, his jaw twitching as he braced himself, but Esme simply raised her hand. "Take it."

The command was barely uttered before footsteps filled the stable. A cluster of maids rushed toward him, their faces tense, their movements hurried but determined.

Isaac instinctively tensed and lunged backward, preparing to fight them off, but the moment he saw who they were, women he knew by name, women who had eaten beside him, worked beside him, laughed with him, his muscles locked. He didn’t have it in him to swing, shove, or strike at them, not even in defense.

And the worst part? They weren’t even doing this willingly. He could see it in their eyes.

One of the maids, trembling slightly, whispered near his ear, "Please... just stand still for now, Isaac." Her voice shook with guilt rather than hostility, and that alone forced Isaac into stillness.

She wasn’t Riley, she wasn’t like Riley. She wasn’t desperate for Esme’s approval or eager to throw someone else under the carriage. These women were being dragged into this mess the same way he had been cornered into it, but they had no freedom to refuse.

Grinding his teeth, Isaac exhaled sharply. "Fine. But I’m warning you, there’s nothing here for you to look at."

Esme lifted a brow with smug confidence. "Is that so?"

"You can check," he said with a tired shrug, making a point of appearing unconcerned. One of the maids snatched the cloth from his hand, her eagerness clearly stemming from fear of disappointing Esme rather than excitement.

She stepped forward and presented it to Esme with both hands as though offering a sacred relic.

Esme’s grin widened, her breath quickening in anticipation. This time, this time she was sure she had them. How many attempts had she made to catch Arabella or anyone from her circle red-handed?

Too many failures to count.

Each one gnawed at her pride, and each failure had fueled an even stronger determination to expose something, anything, that would allow her to drag their names through the mud and parade her success before Morpheus.

But tonight felt different to her. Tonight, she felt she finally had it, the moment she would at long last uncover a secret worth presenting.

Holding her breath, Esme unfolded the cloth with an eager flourish. The white cloth... white... empty cloth.

And on that white empty cloth there was... Nothing.

A blank, plain, perfectly ordinary white cloth stared back at her. No hidden message. No symbol. No mark. No conspiratorial sign. Just whiteness.

Esme’s smile faltered. The light in her eyes didn’t just dim. it collapsed entirely, leaving behind a deep, sour frown that carved itself across her forehead. Her fingers curled around the edge of the cloth, and the weight of disappointment, and humiliation, settled visibly in her expression. All her anticipation dissolved in an instant, replaced by the bitter realization that she had once again come up empty handed.

"Hadn’t I told you that it would be empty?" Isaac asked Esme with a triumphant grin. "There is nothing in it, unfortunately."

"No... You’re lying!" Riley yelled, scared and angry, "You must have hidden it somewhere in you. You must have... you must have lied. There must be something that you kept or else you wouldn’t have gone here in secret and such a rush like you did! I know- I know that he’s lying.... it must be something else that he kept hidden. He lit the fire here to send some signal!"

"And yet there’s nothing," Isaac pointed out while Esme was still in a daze, staring at the white cloth.

"Then why are you here.... burning this white cloth so quietly without anyone’s notice! You know this time would be when everyone is gathered in the kitchen servant so whatever you do no one would notice..."

"It’s because this is a custom," Isaac answered with ease, "A custom for the lady to burn a white cloth in hope for a good luck. It’s not the first time this had been done, ask them," Isaac shrugged toward the other maids who nervously nodded.

"When did it happen the last time?"

"Three days ago."

"I saw a few weeks ago when the lady burnt it..."

Esme, however, suddenly realized what was off and threw the cloth to the ground. "You are buying time..."

Isaac hearing that frowned.

So... there is a thinking bone is Esme isn’t it?