Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 18 - Eighteen

Camilla stood alone in the center of the large drawing room. She watched the doors close. She listened to the sound of the metal wheels on Damon’s wheelchair squeaking as Kade pushed him away down the stone hallway.

When the room was completely empty and quiet, Camilla let out a deep, annoyed sigh. She looked down at the wooden chest filled with a hundred thousand shiny gold coins. The money was right there. She couldn’t even take it with her if she went back and speaking of going back, the divorce papers were gone and unsigned.

Camilla raised her right hand and slammed her small fist hard into the palm of her left hand.

"No."

Camilla said out loud to the empty room. Her voice was firm and frustrated. "This will not do. He ran away like a frightened rabbit. I cannot sit around and wait for him."

She began to pace back and forth on the expensive rug. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I need to complete this novel as soon as possible," she continued talking to herself. "I refuse to live without a proper shower or a flat-screen television. I need a plan to make him hate me so much that he signs the paper immediately."

She nodded her head as she left the drawing room and went back to her own bedroom to plan her next attack.

~ ••••• ~

The next morning, the sun rose high in the sky. Golden light shined through the large glass windows of the general mansion.

Camilla woke up early. She felt rested and full of energy. She climbed out of her large, uncomfortable bed. She chose a simple, light green day dress from the closet. She tied her hair back with a plain ribbon. She did not want to waste time trying to look pretty today. Today was a day for war.

She opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the long, stone hallway.

Instantly, she saw that the mansion was incredibly busy. Young maids in brown dresses and white aprons were running back and forth. Some were carrying clean towels. Some were carrying buckets of hot water. They looked very panicked and in a hurry to do something important.

Camilla watched them for a moment. She reached out and grabbed the arm of a young maid who was rushing past her with a silver tray of empty cups.

"Stop," Camilla ordered gently.

The maid froze. She looked terrified to be stopped by the Lady of the house. "Yes, My Lady? Please, I am in a hurry."

"What is going on?" Camilla asked, looking around the busy hallway. "Why is everyone running around like headless chickens this early in the morning?"

The maid bowed her head quickly. "The kitchen is preparing breakfast for the General, My Lady," the maid replied in a nervous, breathless voice. "He woke up in a terrible mood. His leg is in great pain. He demanded hot food immediately. The cooks are rushing to finish it."

Camilla slowly let go of the maid’s arm. The maid quickly ran away down the stairs.

Camilla stood perfectly still. A bright smile slowly spread across her face. In her mind, a bright light bulb flashed on. It was a brilliant idea. A truly evil, brilliant idea.

"Breakfast," Camilla whispered to herself. She rubbed her hands together like a villain. "The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But the quickest way to make a man hate you is also through his stomach."

She turned around and began to walk very quickly toward the stairs that led down to the main kitchens. She had work to do.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the huge mansion, the master bedroom was quiet and tense.

Damon Benson, the Tyrant General, was lying in his massive bed. The bed was covered in dark blue silk sheets and heavy wool blankets. He was propped up against a pile of large, soft pillows. His injured left leg was resting on top of the blankets, tightly bound in thick white bandages and straight wooden splints. The pain was a dull, burning ache that never stopped.

Damon was not resting. He was holding a stack of military reports in his large hands. He was trying to read the words, but his mind could not focus. He kept reading the same sentence about troop movements over and over again.

He was incredibly stressed. His mind kept going back to yesterday afternoon in the drawing room. He kept remembering the sound of his wife’s thoughts. He remembered her talking about his chest, and ordering gigolos, and calling him a frightened little rabbit.

He rubbed his tired eyes. The doctor was scheduled to come in the morning, right after breakfast. The doctor needed to do a checkup after yesterday’s examination to see if there was any improvement in the broken bone.

Damon just wanted the doctor to give him more medicine so he could sleep and forget about Lady Camilla.

Suddenly, a soft knock came on the heavy wooden door of his bedroom.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Damon lowered the military reports to his lap. He frowned. He thought it was Kade bringing more reports or the maids bringing his breakfast from the kitchen.

"Enter," Damon said out loud. His voice was deep, rough, and commanding.

Outside the door, Camilla was standing perfectly still. She was holding a heavy wooden tray in her hands. On the tray was a dark ceramic bowl and a small cup of water. Thick steam was rising from the bowl.

She did not enter the room immediately. She had to prepare her act.

She carefully balanced the heavy tray on her left hip. With her free right hand, she dipped her index and middle fingers into the cold water.

She quickly raised her wet fingers to her face. She gently squeezed drops of water right under her dark eyes. The water rolled down her pale cheeks, making thick, wet lines. They looked exactly like fresh, heavy tears.

"Perfect," Camilla thought to herself. She quickly hid the small cup at the back of a vase. She grabbed the tray with both hands again.

She rushed in before the water on her face could dry out.

She pushed the heavy door open with her shoulder. She burst into the dark, quiet bedroom like a dramatic storm.

"My dear husband!" Camilla cried out loudly. Her voice was shaking with fake emotion. She started to make loud sobbing noises. "Oh, my poor, dear husband!"

Damon jumped slightly in his bed. The military reports slid off his lap and fell onto the floor. His eyes went wide with sudden panic. He stared at his wife. She was rushing toward his bed, crying heavily, carrying a steaming bowl of food.

"No," Damon thought to himself. "Not her again. Not so early in the morning."

Camilla did not stop. She rushed right to the edge of the bed. She sat down heavily on the mattress.

The thick mattress sank deeply under her sudden weight.

Damon gasped as the movement of the bed shook his broken leg. A sharp spike of pain shot up his thigh. He gritted his teeth. He immediately placed his hands on the mattress and tried to shift his large body a little bit away from her. He pushed himself closer to the wooden headboard, trying to create distance.

Camilla ignored his movement. She turned slightly and set the wooden tray down onto the small bedside table with a loud clack.

She immediately turned back to him. She leaned forward, pushing her tear-stained face close to his.

"I came to see you," Camilla said, sniffing loudly. She blinked, letting the fake tears shine in the morning light. "I could not sleep all night. How is your leg now? Does it hurt terribly? What did the doctor say yesterday? Is it healing?"

She did not wait for him to answer. She reached out her small hands and grabbed both of his large, calloused hands. She held them tightly in her own.

Damon’s eyes widened in horror. Her skin was soft, but her touch felt like a trap. He quickly retracted his hands. He yanked his arms back to his chest as fast as he could, breaking her grip. He looked at her like she was a dangerous snake.

Camilla pretended to look hurt by his rejection. She sniffed again and clasped her empty hands to her own chest.

"You must find the person who hurt you and deal with them severely!" Camilla cried out, her voice rising in dramatic anger. She shook her head, making her hair bounce. "How could they dare to hurt such a great man? How could they dare to hurt my husband? If anything happens to you, how would I keep on living? My life would be over!"

To finish her grand performance, she leaned her upper body forward completely. She put her head directly onto his lap, resting her cheek against the heavy wool blankets covering his uninjured leg. She wrapped her arms around his waist from the side, hugging him tightly.

Damon went completely stiff. He froze like a statue carved out of stone. His wife’s head was resting on his lap. Her arms were wrapped around him. He felt completely paralyzed. He did not know where to put his hands. He held them up in the air, trying not to touch her.

Then, the silence in the room was broken by the loud, clear voice inside his head.

"This is completely exhausting," Camilla’s internal voice complained loudly inside Damon’s mind. Her thoughts were crisp, annoyed, and totally emotionless.

Damon swallowed hard. The mind-reading was starting again.