Jessica's POV
I locked eyes with the witch standing before me, my hands balling into tight fists until my nails bit into my palms. A thousand curses burned on my tongue, each one begging to be unleashed. I wanted to scream at her painted face, demand she release Papa from whatever spell she'd cast over him, but that would mean acknowledging her existence.
I'd rather throw myself from the nearest cliff than give her that satisfaction.
Instead, I brushed past her without so much as a glance, my heels clicking against the marble as I entered the dining room. Papa's footsteps followed behind me, his earlier cheerfulness now completely extinguished. The guilt twisted in my stomach, knowing my reaction always ruined his mood, but I refused to pretend anymore.
We took our seats at the long mahogany table. The witch positioned herself beside Papa like some predatory bird, while I claimed a chair as far from them as possible.
