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❝Even as she turned away, the warmth of his words and his love stayed with her, wrapping around her like the morning light.❞
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I walk into hell, only to be greeted by the witch herself.
"Seems like you're being irresponsible again," she taunts, her voice dripping with venom, escalating the tension in the room. My fingers itch with the thought of wrapping them around her neck, ending her theatrics once and for all.
She’s a perfect replica of a venomous snake—one that bites and lets you writhe in pain, savoring your suffering. My smirk widens at her confrontation, and I lick my lips, the lingering taste of my chubs still vivid, etched into my senses. The memory of her warmth on me, her eyes trailing over my body, and the fragments of her touch burn like a brand on my skin.
"It shouldn't bother you, should it? What I do or don’t do?" I reply with a snicker, her presence no longer capable of rattling me like before.
"Perhaps it shouldn't," she sneers, "but it will when I kick you out of this empire, thanks to all the trust I’ve gained from your father."
He is not my father.
I chuckle, the sound cold and cutting. I knew she would reveal her true colors eventually—she always does. It’s almost amusing how the bastard of a man who calls himself my father has blindly trusted her for thirty years. Thirty years of her venom, her deceit, her cruelty. She killed his wife, treated his own child like filth, and yet here we are.
Enduring. Waiting.
Not for forgiveness but for justice. Justice that has been delayed for seven long years.
"What if I told your husband that you’re plotting to poison him?" I ask, my voice low and taunting. "What if he learns you’re planning to have him sign over everything to you? What then, hmm?"
Her face drains of color.
"What’s the matter? Did I ruin your little game?" I sneer, leaning in closer.
"It’s ridiculous! I love your father. Why would I harm him?" she stammers, trying to regain her footing. Her lies are as transparent as the air between us.
