As they stepped down from the carriage, Fiore noticed the way Elia’s usually bright, lively face was now marred with puffiness and streaks of tears. Anger and grief etched deeply into her features, her entire body shaking with a barely contained rage.
“Elia?” Fiore called softly, her voice filled with concern, but Elia didn’t respond. Her eyes were locked on Reginald, burning with fury that seemed to ripple through her small frame.
"Why..." Elia’s voice cracked as she tried to speak, her throat constricted with sobs.
Reginald turned to face her, completely unfazed by the turmoil before him. His expression was hard, indifferent, as though he had already predicted her reaction. “It was inevitable,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Necessary?" Elia repeated, her voice now a ghost of
