Greg’s POV
As I sat on my throne, a deep sense of anger and betrayal boiled within me.
I could not believe that the person I had trusted with everything within me had caused this kind of harm. It was almost too terrible to be true.
How could she see that killing my father would make me feel? Was she mad? Was she blind to the whole result?
And trying to cover it up by blaming her friend was something else.
How low could someone be?
Now I was pissed the more I thought about it. This was barbaric and I knew I had to make an example out of her for I would be termed weak. I can’t have that.
The grand hall of my palace felt frigid and distant as if the weight of my sorrow and rage had oozed into the very stone walls.
My gaze was fixed on the elaborate carvings on the throne room's floor
