Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 218: Dirty Confessions VI

Chapter 218: Dirty Confessions VI

"Now, let’s stop wasting each other’s time shall we?" Daphne asked as she tilted Francessa’s chin up so she could savor the fear bubbling in her eyes. Not many people could withstand their flesh being branded like a cattle’s behind. Even if Daphne let Francessa escape after this encounter, Francessa would forever have to live with Daphne’s mark on her skin.

And from the way Francessa gulped and shuddered, she knew it too.

Daphne had reached the last of her patience, moving her hand to grab Francessa’s cheeks. Her fingers started to heat up, just hot enough to be uncomfortable. Francessa winced― if Daphne continued, she would have her queen’s fingerprints left on her face for everyone to see. For someone who prided herself on her looks, that was a fate worse than death.

"Answer my question, exactly how much money did you steal from the commoners living under your wardship?"

Francessa burst out, "I don’t know!"

"You don’t know?" Her grip tightened imperceptibly.

"There was simply too much to keep track of all these years!"

Gasps echoed throughout the streets.

"Give me an estimate then. You’re a businesswoman, you should be good with numbers." Her fingers grew hotter, and Francessa screamed as she tried to twist her face away. It was a futile attempt, and she could only gaze up helplessly at Daphne Molinero as she stared her down, like a dragon at her next meal.

"There was... at least a thousand!" Francessa exclaimed. It was technically the truth, so the blue kyanite didn’t take effect.

But Daphne narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe her in the slightest. "Then how much was there... at most?"

"A... a... million." Francessa gasped out shakily as she smelt her skin burning. "Get your hands off me!"

"You’re in no position to make demands," Daphne sneered in return, before turning to Atticus. "My dear, do you have anything you wish to ask?"

Atticus’s face was as welcoming as a thunderstorm. This woman had stolen a million from the crown to fund her own criminal activities, instead of using that money to aid her own people. She had claimed back then that the money would be used to build schools and better houses for the people, feed the poor, and rehome those living in the slums.

All of these were lies!

"Why did you do it? Why didn’t you use the money for the poor in the slums, like you claimed?"

"The poor? Hah! You must be joking if you think I would care about them. They are useless scum. No schooling would be able to salvage these unintelligent incompetents. They should never have reproduced at all; their children are just a waste of space. Those poor scum should die the same way they lived, worshiping me from a distance. Even if they make noise about their missing funds, who is going to listen? Your Highness, you didn’t care about them either!" Francessa exclaimed hotly.

Daphne had to blink at the sheer vitriol that escaped her lips. She briefly recalled the detour she made to the slums, the foul smell that engulfed the air and the dilapidated houses, along with the poor tattered clothes of the residents in winter.

If Francesa was pocketing the money meant for those in the slums, no wonder those people had looked at Daphne with such hatred when she stumbled upon them. In their eyes, one noble lady was as good as the other.

Daphne seethed. Francessa Seibert had to pay.

"Did you also steal from your fellow nobles?" Atticus asked with polite curiosity even as he glared daggers at her. As a past slum-dweller, he had approved of her plans for remodeling the slums. To think this woman would dare to cheat him!

But it was also his fault for not checking. He simply had other, more important, priorities then, and his neglect of the situation was now coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Of course I did. If they didn’t want me to take their fortunes, they should have been more careful with guarding them!" Francessa said, and Daphne’s eyes widened in surprise.

"All of them are nitwits who inherited wealth but have no clue how to manage it. They just spend it all on frivolities, tantamount to throwing it down the sewers. Educated, but content with being mediocre. So useless! Especially the women, they have nothing more than fluff between their ears. It’s disgusting."

Francessa’s eyes glowed with hatred as she stared up at Daphne. In her mind, Daphne was one of those useless nobles who only got her success because she attracted the right men. She spat out a gob of spit; Daphne flinched as saliva ended up on her face.

The dignified Marchioness spat at her!

How disgusting. Daphne hurriedly scrubbed it away with her sleeve.

"Did you just spit at me?"

"Yes," Francessa said proudly.

"Are you not afraid I’ll tell people about your foul acts and words?" Daphne asked.

"They’ll never believe you," Francessa said victoriously, "they think you’re a slut spreading your legs for any man that has the power to get you to do their bidding. First King Atticus, then Raxuvia’s Crown Prince, and the dark creature... Your reputation is in the gutters, and I don’t even have to lift a finger to ruin it. You ruined things marvelously enough on your own."

"Atticus, I think I’ve heard enough," Daphne said coldly, turning away from Francesa.

"Agreed," Atticus said, but there was a wicked smile on his face, "so have the townspeople."

"The... townspeople?" Francessa repeated in confusion.

Daphne revealed the device Jonah had created from her pocket, the stones clearly visible.

Francessa’s face paled and she began to splutter in shock. She made a desperate lunge for Daphne’s hand, but Daphne easily swatted her away like a fly, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground with a painful thud. After excruciating pain inflicted by multiple doses of blue kyanite, Francessa Seibert was in no position to launch any counter-attacks even without Atticus’s magic.

She couldn’t even get up! Francessa could only point a shaking finger at Daphne, rage coloring her features.

"You bitch! I’ll have your head for this!" Francessa Seibert continued to rant and rave, digging her own grave further as she insulted everyone from royalty to schoolchildren. Even innocent farm animals and plants were not spared from her wicked tongue.

It was giving Daphne a minor headache.

"Atticus, does blue kyanite cause delusions?" Daphne asked, making a point to ignore the madwoman on the ground.

"Not to my knowledge," Atticus shrugged, "but we could always observe her as a test subject?"

Both husband and wife turned to finally look at the prone figure of Francessa Seibert, huddled pathetically on the floor.

"No, that’s too good a fate for her," Daphne replied honestly. She wanted to kick that foul woman in the stomach, but she didn’t want to dirty Maisie’s shoes.

"What do you have in mind then, darling?" Atticus asked. "Normally, criminals of this caliber would be executed, but you didn’t seem enthusiastic about that prospect."

His wife had spent nights thinking about how to punish Francessa Seibert, and the guillotine always drew a frown to her face when Atticus brought it up.

"She doesn’t deserve a quick death," Daphne said, casting a disdainful glance at the remorseless lady curled up on the floor. She crouched down and pulled Francessa up by her hair, causing her to screech in pain.

A slow diabolical smile crossed Daphne’s face.

"My dear husband, do we have a cage to spare?"

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