The cold, damp dungeon was revolting. The air reeked of rot and mold, a stench that clung to the skin and crept into the lungs, the kind of place meant only for filth and paupers, never for someone like her!
Serena pinched her nose in open disgust as she brushed at her dress again and again, as if the fabric itself had been contaminated by merely being here.
This dress was supposed to draw eyes. It was meant to make heads turn, to pull admiration like gravity, to leave whispers in its wake. It was the dress that should have earned her attention, affection, perhaps even a glance from Hades Valentine himself. Not Evangeline. Never Evangeline.
And yet here Serena stood, trapped in a dungeon that smelled of decay, while her sister had walked through a castle as if she belonged there.
"…This is your fault, isn't it?!" her father snapped.
"I was working to keep you and the children fed!" her mother shot back. "I left her with you—all you had to do was teach her a lesson!"
