I stood before Lady Beatrix's cell, watching her through the iron bars. How strange to see my former tormentor reduced to this—dressed in prison rags, her hair disheveled, her once-imperious demeanor diminished by these surroundings. A cold satisfaction settled in my chest.
"How does it feel, Lady Beatrix?" I asked, my voice steadier than I expected. "To be caged like an animal after years of treating others as less than human?"
Her eyes, still sharp despite her circumstances, narrowed at me. "Come to gloat, Isabella? It doesn't suit a duchess."
"Perhaps not," I conceded, stepping closer to the bars. "But I believe I've earned this moment. Years of your cruelty, your schemes, your endless attempts to break me—and yet here I stand, while you..." I gestured to her cell.
Lady Beatrix lunged forward suddenly, her hands gripping the bars. "Don't you dare look down on me! Everything I did was for my daughter's future, for our family name!"
