Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts-Chapter 39 - Thirty Nine

Camilla walked over to her small bedside table. She picked up a shiny silver bell and shook it firmly.

Ding, ding, ding.

The clear, ringing sound echoed in the quiet room.

Less than a minute later, the door opened. A young maid entered the room. She looked very nervous and slightly out of breath. The whole house was panicking about the dead body, but she still had to do her job.

"Good morning, My Lady," the maid whispered, bowing her head low.

"Draw a hot bath for me," Camilla ordered calmly, walking toward her large wooden closet. "Make sure the water is very warm. And get my clothes ready for the day."

"Yes, My Lady," the maid replied quickly. She hurried into the attached washroom to start filling the large copper tub with steaming water.

Camilla soaked in the hot bath for a long time. The warm water relaxed her tight muscles. She washed her skin with sweet-smelling soap. She tried to wash away the memory of the dirty soot from the lightning strike, and the memory of the dead assassin’s neck snapping in her hands.

After her bath, she stepped out, and the maid quickly wrapped her in a large, soft towel. The maid dried her skin and helped her dress.

Camilla chose a beautiful, dark red day dress. It was made of expensive, heavy silk. It fit her small waist perfectly and flowed down to the floor in elegant folds. The color red made her skin look even smoother.

She sat in front of a small vanity table. The maid stood behind her, brushing Camilla’s long, red hair with a soft brush until it was completely untangled.

Camilla stood up. She walked over to a tall, standing mirror in the corner of the room.

She looked at her reflection. She looked at her eyes, her perfect nose, and her soft, pink lips. She smoothed her hands down the front of the dark red dress. She looked incredibly beautiful, powerful, and dangerous.

A slow, highly confident smirk spread across her face.

"You are one fine bitch, Camilla" She thought to herself, admiring her own reflection. She turned slightly to the left, checking her profile. She nodded in complete approval.

"That Damon guy is just a blind bat for not seeing your beauty," she continued her internal thoughts, feeling deeply insulted by her fake husband. "He is too busy being grumpy to notice he has a total masterpiece sleeping in his house. Any man in my modern world would fall to his knees and beg to take me on a date. He is an idiot."

She turned away from the tall mirror. She felt completely ready to face the day. She opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the grand hallway.

She walked slowly and gracefully down the massive, curving front staircase. Her dark red dress swept silently over the polished stone steps.

The entire ground floor of the mansion was buzzing with loud, nervous energy. Groups of maids and footmen were standing in the corners, whispering rapidly to each other. They were all talking about the dead man found in the bushes.

As Camilla reached the bottom of the wide stairs, a group of four maids was standing near the entrance of the main hallway. They stopped whispering when they saw the Lady of the house approaching.

One of the maids stepped forward. She had been good friends with Nancy. This bold maid did not like Camilla at all. She thought Camilla was weak, crazy, and a total disgrace to the General.

The bold maid saw an opportunity to embarrass Camilla in front of the other servants. She decided to point fingers and make a terrible accusation.

"Look who it is," the bold maid said loudly. Her voice was highly disrespectful. She made sure her friends and the other servants walking nearby could hear her clearly.

The maid pointed an accusing finger directly at Camilla. She put her hands on her hips, looking at Camilla with complete disgust.

"That dead man outside in the bushes," the bold maid announced loudly, her voice dripping with fake shock and cruel insinuation.

"The guards said he fell directly from the Lady’s balcony. He fell from your private room in the middle of the night."

The maid scoffed and shook her head. She looked around at the other servants, inviting them to judge their Lady.

"He must have been..." the maid continued, a nasty smirk forming on her lips. She was trying to insinuate that Camilla was a dirty, cheating wife. She wanted everyone to think the dead assassin was actually Camilla’s secret lover, who had clumsily fallen to his death while trying to sneak out of her bed.

But the bold maid never got to finish her insulting sentence.

Camilla did not try to defend her honor with weak words.

She closed the short distance between them in two incredibly fast, smooth steps. She moved so quickly that the bold maid did not even have time to blink.

Camilla raised her right hand high into the air. She swung her arm with massive speed and brutal physical force.

SMACK!

The sound of the slap was deafening. It cracked through the large, open foyer like the sound of a heavy leather whip hitting bare skin. The sound was so loud that several footmen down the hall actually jumped in surprise.

Camilla slapped the bold girl completely across the cheek. She used the flat of her palm and all the strength in her shoulder.

The bold maid’s head snapped violently to the side. Her neck cracked loudly. The force of the blow was so strong that her feet actually left the floor for a tiny second.

Bright, angry red handprints instantly appeared on the girl’s pale left cheek. The skin began to swell immediately.

The maid staggered backward, completely losing her balance. She tripped over her own feet and stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell onto the hard marble floor. She raised her shaking hands to cover her burning, throbbing cheek. Her arrogant eyes were now wide with pure, absolute disbelief and sudden terror.