Phoebe’s POV
The glass exploded into fragnts, a razor-sharp piece slicing across Perry’s flesh.
Dead silence followed the crash, lasting only a heartbeat before he calmly instructed to remain in bed.
"Stay put. I’ll bring you another." His face showed zero reaction as he filled a fresh glass and approached .
I snatched it from his hands and launched it across the room.
This one smashed against the wall, shattering completely. I fixed him with a murderous stare, letting him see every ounce of my hatred.
He deserved my hate, yet sothing flickered in his eyes—a longing for sothing else entirely.
"Don’t want water? Fine. Marcela’s coming. I’ll wait until she arrives."
He settled on the bed’s edge, keeping his distance. He didn’t dare touch , though I caught the way his hands twitched, like he wanted to pull into his arms.
When I hauled myself upright and lunged at him, raking my nails down his face, he simply let .
Blood welled from the scratches, but he remained silent, watching with that infuriating gentleness. "If hurting helps, do it. Use however you want, Phoebe. Poison —I’d drink it gladly."
The fool was completely lost. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt . When he’d discovered my betrayal—the poison I’d given him—he’d punished .
But sohow, he’d punished himself worse.
And with our baby’s death, he carried a guilt deeper than any wrong he’d ever committed.
I wrapped my fingers around his throat, desperate to choke the life from him. He sat there, accepting whatever fate I chose.
But my body betrayed . Days unconscious had drained my strength.
No matter how hard I squeezed, I couldn’t finish him.
That’s when Marcela burst through the door, gasping in horror before yanking away from him.
"My king, are you hurt?" Marcela’s voice trembled with worry.
"Check her condition. Keep her in bed until this ss is cleaned," he said with maddening calm, wiping blood from his face as the wounds sealed themselves. Then he stood.
He’d wanted awake, but he’d also known I’d react exactly like this when consciousness returned.
Still, her violent response was exactly what he’d expected.
But as he moved to leave, I lunged forward, grabbing him back. I wasn’t finished. I needed him dead.
I didn’t care about punishnt anymore—I wanted him to suffer like he’d made our child suffer.
I wanted him destroyed, just like he’d destroyed our baby.
"My lady, stop!" Marcela panicked, trying to restrain , but I was already clawing at his face again, landing a weak blow.
The hit barely registered—I lacked the strength for real damage—but I lost my balance and nearly tumbled from the bed. Only his quick reflexes saved from crashing onto the glass-covered floor.
Sharp fragnts would have shredded if I’d fallen.
"Don’t fight , Phoebe. You’ll only hurt yourself," he murmured, as if I hadn’t just tried to destroy him.
This had to be the first ti he’d shown such patience. Everyone knew his temper—he’d never tolerate soone attacking him.
Yet here he was, completely composed while his furious mate tried to kill him.
"I’m taking her to my room. Have soone clean this up, then et there to examine her."
He lifted effortlessly.
His brow creased slightly at how light I felt. My weight had concerned him from day one.
But now he truly understood how everything—physically and ntally—had devastated .
"Stop fighting , Phoebe," he said, carrying in his arms. "You’ll get hurt."
I thrashed against him but made no sound. By now, he understood.
I’d shut down again.
When emotions overwheld , words disappeared.
Timothy had explained what happened, and he’d summoned Viola to hear her confession directly.
She’d apologized for her silence, and though he’d wanted to punish her, he knew it wouldn’t solve anything.
This was his fault.
Kings shouldn’t admit mistakes, but for , he didn’t care about being royal.
——
Perry’s POV
I placed Phoebe gently on my bed while Marcela followed behind us. She’d arrived just as Phoebe slapped .
The sound was pathetically weak, but still a slap.
Marcela looked terrified for Phoebe’s safety.
But I showed no reaction, simply stroking her cheek. "I’ll leave you with Marcela. Rest more," I said before exiting.
——
Phoebe’s POV
Marcela imdiately began checking my condition.
My agitation had spiked my blood pressure dangerously.
"My lady, please calm down..." Marcela tried preventing from leaving.
I couldn’t stand being here. This room reeked of Perry, and his scent confused my rage. I hated him.
I refused to be surrounded by his presence.
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