An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2624

Chapter 2624

Tristan’s expression was dark.

As the esteemed eldest prince, he couldn’t stand that Grace had stolen the spotlight. Naturally, it left him bitter.

If all the plague victims had died, he could’ve buried the news and kept everything under wraps. But with Grace stepping in, hiding the truth was no longer an option.

The worst part? She actually saved them.

Next to her, he—the so-called eldest prince—looked utterly useless.

Still, no matter how frustrated he felt, Tristan had to keep up appearances.

The rain had just stopped, but damp mist still clung to the ruins of Wugang City.

Tristan walked through the mud, a polite smile plastered across his face. “Grace, you look exhausted. You must’ve been through a lot. Come back to camp with me. I asked the cook to make some ginseng soup. It’ll warm you up.”

Grace wiped the rain from her face. Her black outfit was soaked and streaked with mud.

She glanced at the temple ruins in the distance, where the survivors huddled together. Many of the children were still burning with fever.

“Big Brother is very considerate,” she said flatly. Her voice lacked emotion, but her fingers unconsciously clutched the jade pendant at her waist.

It was a gift from the Emperor, carved with the words: Guard the People.

The military camp stood on a high slope to the north, its rows of blue-gray tents lined in perfect order. Soldiers in gleaming armor moved about inside, a sharp contrast to the refugees in their torn, filthy clothes.

Inside one of the tents, it was warm and opulent. Silver coals glowed in a golden brazier. A white jade plate held slices of smoked venison. Amber-colored wine shimmered in a green bowl. Even the candied fruit was arranged like a floral bouquet.

“Sister, please sit.” Tristan personally pulled out a carved pearwood chair for her. His sleeves slipped back, revealing a silk brocade lining embroidered with dark golden dragons. “This venison is a tribute from Mobei. It’s been aged twenty years, marinated for ten. Want a taste?”

He picked up a silver dagger and sliced off a piece of meat, the fat and lean layered just right. As he offered it, the jade ring on his finger glowed with a soft sheen.

But Grace didn’t touch her chopsticks. Her eyes were fixed on the map hanging on the tent wall.

Wugang City’s streets and alleys were marked in red ink. Over the western slums, a thick black X had been drawn.

“Brother, do you know how many people in quarantine are actually infected? And how many are innocent?” Her voice turned cold as her fingers tapped the table. “I just passed the supply depot and saw piles of untouched medicinal herbs. Why haven’t they been delivered to the people?”

Tristan paused mid-slice, then chuckled. “Sister, you don’t understand. Those herbs are for the soldiers. If an outbreak hits the camp, we can’t let them just sit and die, can we?”

He poured himself a drink, the crisp clink of liquid against glass echoing in the silence. “Besides, there are too many victims. We can’t possibly save them all.”

“If you can’t save them all, then just let them die?” Grace suddenly stood up, her black cloak sweeping past the brazier and sending sparks into the air. “Water can carry a boat, but it can also overturn it. Big Brother, have you forgotten that these people are citizens of Dragonmarsh—not weeds by the roadside?”

A gust of wind blew through the tent, carrying in the sour scent of rain. The candlelight flickered violently.

Tristan’s smile wavered. He sipped his wine. “My wise sister, always so righteous. But if you think I’m cruel, just look at our other brothers.”

He set the glass down and lowered his voice. “When Linche had a plague, Matthias burned it down—tens of thousands dead. Black smoke rose from their corpses. And when it hit Liyanche, Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to kill, burn, and bury anyone left. Innocent or not, it didn’t matter. Compared to them, I’ve been merciful. I’m doing this to stop the spread.”

“That’s enough!” Grace snapped. Her fists clenched, knuckles white.

She turned toward the entrance. The sky was finally lightening after the rain, and the distant cries of disaster victims drifted in on the wind—like needles piercing her skin.

“I won’t forget their crimes,” she said coldly. “And I’ll report your inaction and neglect to the Emperor.”

Tristan’s smile vanished. He set down his wine glass with a dull thud. “Why go this far, Grace? We’re siblings—born of the same mother. If you supported me, we could rule Dragonmarsh together. We’d be able to save far more lives. Why not join me?”

“You’re wrong, Big Brother.” Grace straightened her cloak, her voice once again calm and cold. “I don’t want ultimate power. I just want the people to live in peace.”

She glanced at the elegant spread on the table. At this moment, the luxury felt grotesque.

“I’m not eating. The children in quarantine are still waiting for their medicine.”

With that, Grace turned and walked out.

Tristan watched her tall figure retreat. The smile on his face slowly disappeared.

When the tent flap lifted, a cold wind swept in, making the candles dance wildly. The shadows on the canvas twisted into monstrous shapes.

Only after Grace left did Tristan clench his fists, his knuckles pale with tension, his eyes gleaming with a suppressed cruelty.