"Now that," Roseline said lazily, folding her hands on the table, "is what you call obedience. How I wish you had learned it earlier, before I had to turn the tables."
Her mocking tone was deliberate, each word sharpened to provoke and Ester felt her blood surge.
The more she looked at Roseline—at the composed posture, the unshaken gaze, the effortless cruelty—the clearer her true face became. This wasn't confidence born of righteousness. This was the calm of someone who believed herself untouchable.
"You can hide behind the lie you told, Roseline," Ester said, her voice low but steady, jaw clenched so hard it ached. "But remember one thing—truth can't be buried forever. One day, every scheme you've built your life on will be exposed."
Her breath came out slow, controlled.
Ester had already come to terms with her fate. Prison. Ruin. Loss.
But Roseline's lies? They were living things—rotting from the inside.
