“There are… things you don’t know, Elizabeth.”
She shook her head, frustration rising like a storm.
“You’re just like them, Lord Hassan.Just like my father and Lord Winston.”
Her voice trembled—but it wasn’t from fear.
It was anger.
“You stayed silent while they humiliated me.”
A pause.
A breath.
And then?—
“Why didn’t you stand up for me if you thought I was right?”
The words hit harder than I expected.
She had every right to ask.
And I had no right to answer.
Because if she knew the truth?—
If she knew who I was, what I had come here to do?—
Her hatred for her father and Winston would be nothing compared to the loathing she would feel for me.
I tore my gaze away, staring into the darkened garden, searching for an answer in the cold night air.
“It’s complicated,” I murmured.
It was a hollow excuse.
A lie wrapped in half-truths.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
But the words tasted bitter on my tongue.
Because the truth was?—
If I stayed in her orbit much longer…
I would be the one to hurt her most of all.
Elizabeth let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the bench as if anchoring herself against a fate closing in around her.
“I don’t want to marry him,” she whispered.
It was so soft that I almost didn’t hear it.
“I can’t marry Lord Winston.”
Her voice was raw, splintered at the edges—helpless and defiant all at once.
