Hazel’s POV
The deep crimson liquid in the crystal goblet shimmers as I gently swirl it, catching the distorted light of the elaborate chandelier overhead. I settle into the armchair that Elenor once adored, savoring this world I've fought to shape.
But from the adjacent nursery, that relentless crying starts again.
"Waaa—! I want Mommy! I want Mommy—!!!"
Her wails pierce through the heavy door, sharp as needles stabbing into my temples.
Here we go again! Every single day, every damn night! That infuriating little brat! Ever since Eleanor conveniently "vanished," Willow, this insufferable nuisance, has been my only, and most vexing, obstacle.
"Shut up! You little brat! Shut up!" I snap, throwing back the wine in one gulp, feeling the fiery burn in my throat, but it does nothing to do
