Other inmates had whispered cruel things to me. That someone had paid to ensure my suffering. That Phyllis Brennan—and my own family—wanted to see me broken beyond repair.
I hadn’t wanted to believe them.
But now? I saw how blind I’d been.
Before I could speak, a booming voice shattered the moment.
“What are you doing here?”
My father.
He barged into the kitchen, fury written all over his face. His angry eyes flicked from me to Phyllis, then to the plate of food in front of me.
“And you, Phyllis! Why are you giving her wine and a good meal? She doesn’t deserve anything close to kindness!”
Louise's POV
I tipped the wineglass and drained its final drop, placing it back down with a soft clink. My fingers quivered as I released it.
"She's still your flesh and blood, Alpha Derick," Phyllis declared, rising in my defense. If I hadn’t personally witnessed his hesitation before, I might’ve made the mistake of thinking his concern was genuine. "She looks frail—barely holding herself up. She needs proper nourishment. The council even acknowledged there were inconsistencies in the case. There’s still a chance she didn’t take Chelsea… or end her life."