The truth didn't just claw at Alicia's throat; it was a jagged shard of glass she was forced to swallow, drawing blood with every unspoken word.
She wanted to shriek, to howl about the systematic violation of her soul, the bitter, rancid pill Roland had shoved down her throat, and the grotesque trap that had stripped her of every sanctuary, leaving her chained to this mockery of a marriage.
But Roland's threat was more than a noose; it was a garrote of barbed wire, tightening with every heartbeat: If a single soul tastes this truth, I will dismantle you. I will fling your tattered reputation into the gutters for the stray dogs to feast upon.
Alicia remained a statue of petrified grief, a silent monument to her own ruin. She absorbed the whip-crack of Serene's insults, her very stillness acting as a damning confession in the eyes of her judge.
"Silence? Is that the only armor you have left?" Serene sneered, her lip curling into a mask of pure, unadulterated loathing.
