The scream tore through the corridor like shattered glass.
Belle woke up with a sharp inhale, her heart already pounding before her mind fully caught up. The sound came again—raw, desperate, soaked in pain.
She was on her feet before she realized it.
The door flew open as she rushed into the hallway barefoot, her breath uneven, her nightdress clutched tight in her fists. Other doors creaked open as well. Faces appeared. Fearful. Curious. Silent.
Then she saw them.
Calista was being dragged across the marble floor.
Her body was bruised, dark marks blooming across her skin. Her wrists scraped against the ground as she tried weakly to hold herself up. Her hair was tangled, her face swollen, her breathing shallow.
Oriana stood above her, fingers twisted cruelly in Calista's hair.
"You dare lie to me," Oriana said, her voice sharp and venomous.
She yanked Calista's head back.
"You see, I hate lies," she continued coldly. "I despise them."
Calista whimpered.
"You whore."
