Estelle Will Not Forgive a Second Time: The Condemned Noble Lady Returns in Elegance to Dance with the Incompetent Prince - Chapter 10

“Kill Estelle Grandiel.”

Victor’s chilling command echoed through the heavy air of the chamber.

For a brief moment, Rodolphe’s brow twitched—an almost imperceptible reaction—but he immediately lowered his head in obedience, his voice unwavering.

“…As you wish, Your Highness. I will carry out Estelle Grandiel’s elimination swiftly and without delay.”

The knight commander’s declaration sent a ripple of shock through the assembled nobles. Marquis Raymond visibly paled, his fingers trembling as he clenched the arms of his chair.

Some of the high-ranking lords exchanged anxious glances, uncertainty and fear flickering in their eyes. But Victor ignored them entirely.

His golden hair shimmered under the candlelight, but the fury in his eyes dulled any beauty—he was no longer the elegant prince of courtly rumors, but a predator in a corner, baring his fangs.

“Estelle poses a threat to the royal family—no, to me. If we allow her to live, our entire operation risks collapse. Eliminate her… quietly, but thoroughly. Leave no trace.”

Rodolphe nodded without hesitation.

“Understood.”

He stood with fluid precision, the tension in his muscular frame like that of a coiled beast ready to strike.

His sharp gaze, forged in countless battlefields, held the chilling certainty of a man who had never failed to take a life.

“Proceed. Don’t return until the task is done,” Victor snapped.

Rodolphe offered one last bow, then turned on his heel, leaving the chamber with heavy, deliberate steps. The door closed behind him with a final thud—like the sealing of a coffin.

Silence settled over the chamber, thick and suffocating.

Victor clenched his fists, glaring at the map spread before him—a network of connections and plans, now compromised.

“Estelle Grandiel… I don’t know what changed in you, but I won’t let you get in my way. You should’ve remained the ignorant, pretty doll you once were.”

He spat the words through gritted teeth.

The nobles dared not speak. Fear of Victor’s wrath—and of Rodolphe’s swift blade—held them in check.

Victor’s plans had taken years to weave. Estelle’s sudden rise, her influence, her audacity—it was intolerable.

He wouldn’t allow a mere noblewoman to dismantle everything.

He wouldn’t rest until her bl00d washed away her defiance.

Estelle Grandiel would die—by his hand or another’s.

And with her gone, nothing would stand between Victor and the throne.

“Your Highness, are you certain about this? If you have Lady Estelle killed, the Grandiel family will not remain silent. There will be serious repercussions within the royal family as well…”

It was the Duke—the same one who had earlier trembled through his report—who now dared to speak. His face was taut with unease.

Victor turned his glare upon the man, his lips twisted into a contemptuous sneer.

“And what do you suggest we do instead? After Clarissa’s failure, there is no room for error. Estelle is already making her move. If we don’t eliminate her now, we’ll all be in danger.”

His words, brazen in their malice, silenced the room.

The gathered nobles—Victor’s most loyal supporters—could only exchange tense glances. They knew he was right.

If Estelle continued to gather evidence, she could easily drag them all down into scandal and ruin. Clarissa’s arrest had already sent shockwaves through the court. If more heads rolled, none of them would escape unscathed.

“…Understood,” Marquis Raymond said, his voice trembling as he nodded. “Then, we’ll leave the matter in Commander Rodolphe’s hands. But if any suspicion arises, our entire faction could collapse. We must proceed with utmost caution.”

Rodolphe inclined his head solemnly, as if to seal a bl00d oath.

“Rest assured. I exist solely to carry out His Highness’s orders. This task—will not fail.”

His voice was devoid of warmth, stripped of all humanity. It was the tone of a man who had killed many times before, and would do so again without hesitation.

With mechanical precision, Rodolphe turned and exited the chamber, leaving behind a wake of dread.

Victor watched him go, his clenched fists trembling with barely restrained fury. His breath came slow and heavy, each exhale a struggle to contain the storm of rage building inside.

“Estelle Grandiel… I’ll make sure you never speak again. You’ll regret ever daring to defy me.”

His voice, low and venomous, echoed through the deathly quiet chamber.

Not one noble dared to respond. They could only bear witness to Victor’s descent—the fall of the radiant, golden prince into a cold-hearted tyrant.

His polished charm had long since vanished, replaced by the dark, unyielding glare of a man consumed by ambition and fear.

No one in the room could stop him now. Clarissa’s disgrace had been the tipping point, and Victor was no longer holding back.

He turned to the window, staring out into the night.

The moonlight, slicing through the heavy velvet curtains, bathed his golden hair in silver—but the gleam in his eyes was nothing short of lethal.

“Estelle… I will crush everything you plot beneath my heel.”

His voice rippled through the chamber like a curse, and every noble present knew:

There would be no mercy for those who crossed him.