Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair) novel Chapter 1250

Gerald was silent for a long time, his breathing growing more rapid, as though anger were rising within him.

Kylie had been listening from outside. When she sensed the conversation was straying, she almost stepped forward to intervene. But when she heard her grandfather's labored breath, she stopped in her tracks.

She was certain of her guess—with the crushing blow Gerald had received, his pride couldn't take it. He would see this as the greatest humiliation and would surely seek revenge against Carissa. If he had nothing left to live for, why not use his death to take vengeance?

But after a while, she still heard no outburst, only Gerald's faint voice.

"Perhaps you're right. But what you said at the Capital Guard headquarters was wrong. Struggling is pointless. What you're doing now is also all in vain," he retorted.

Carissa smiled softly. "Would you dare take a bet with me, Lord Gerald?"

"A bet?" Gerald chuckled, though it was a hollow, bitter sound. "Do you think you can win? And how would you even measure victory?"

"In a few years, you'll see many more workshops like Skye Embroidery and women's academies springing up all over. Will that count as my win?"

"Delusions," Gerald muttered, shaking his head slowly. He struggled to speak. "The women's academy in the capital exists because of the queen dowager. Elsewhere, it would never work. As for workshops, they are even less likely."

Carissa leaned in a little closer. The stench of his body hit her sharply, making her eyes sting, but she didn't shy away. "That's why I want to make a bet with you, Lord Gerald. It won't take long. Just two years—two years should be enough."

Gerald's mind seemed to be clouded as his eyes wandered aimlessly to the ceiling. "We're not the same. My ideas are far more shocking than yours. No one will ever truly accept them. They can never be made public, nor will society ever approve."

"But you don't even accept them yourself. You've gone against your own heart. You don't like women, yet you married and had children. You betrayed yourself, so what right do you have to talk about earning society's approval?" Carissa said.

"Do you accept them?" Gerald asked.

"It doesn't matter."

"You don't!" Gerald said, anguished.

"Lord Gerald, whether I accept them or not isn't important. What matters is you've already made your choice, and I think this is a personal matter. It doesn't need anyone's approval. You don't have to make it public or seek society's approval. Just as some people love daisies, and others love roses. People have their preferences. Why must everyone else like orchids the way you do?"

Kylie was livid, her temples throbbing. This wasn't how it should be—Gerald was utterly foolish. If he no longer cared to live, why didn't he just help her get rid of Carissa?

He was only thinking about his shameful indulgences, not caring at all for Connor or the Quinton family.

Taking a deep breath, Kylie looked at him with steely resolve. "Grandfather, I ask you—don't you hate Carissa so much? Isn't she the one who wronged you? I'm here and ready to help you. Whatever you need, just tell me."

Gerald ignored her, his focus entirely on Carissa. "I'll take those two bets—what are the stakes?"

"Anything you want, just say it," Carissa replied.

"Grandfather!" Kylie's frustration was palpable.

Gerald thought for a moment, a dark glimmer in his eyes. "If you lose, you'll find me a person, or their grave. If I lose, you tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

"Deal!" Carissa said with certainty. "Though I'm sure I'll win, you can tell me now—who is it you want me to find?"