Phoebe's POV
I'd always feared Reginald, but beneath that terror lived something darker—hatred so deep it poisoned my thoughts. Living with both emotions felt impossible.
The only escape was confrontation. So I did it.
I needed to know what I'd feel seeing him again after all this time.
Would the hate still burn? Would fear still grip me?
But standing here now, I felt nothing. This man who'd destroyed my life, who'd caused me endless pain—he meant nothing to me anymore.
Seeing his pathetic state stirred no emotion whatsoever.
Reginald was filthy, reeking, barely recognizable. Dirt and blood caked his broken body. The stench made my stomach turn.
This wasn't the figure I should fear.
That man was gone. Months of suffering had twisted Reginald into someone I barely knew.
I felt no joy at his misery, no fear of his presence. Just... nothing. The emptiness told me everything—I'd outgrown my terror and hatred.
I'd gotten what I came for. No point staying longer.
