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, walking away from his pathetic screams echoing through the dungeon corridors, I felt nothing. This man who'd destroyed my life, who'd caused me endless pain—he meant nothing to me anymore.
The emptiness was profound. Complete. Like discovering a wound that had been festering for years had finally healed, leaving only smooth skin where the poison used to live.
Reginald was filthy, reeking, barely recognizable in his chains and misery. The stench of his desperation had made my stomach turn, but not from fear—from pity for how pathetic he'd become.
