BEATRICE’S POVI watched Alfred—his every movement, his carefully guarded expressions, the way his eyes darted briefly before settling back into that mask of deception he always wore.With years of distance and countless lies between us, I can still see through him.He tries to appear composed, but I know better. Beneath that well-fitted suit and polished calm, he is panicking.He is afraid.He’s scared of slipping, of saying the wrong thing, of exposing the rot he’s tried so hard to hide.His guilt dances at the edges of his silence, and it makes my skin crawl.A smirk curved on my lips—not out of joy, but justice.A silent declaration that I saw him for who he truly was.He stood up slowly.Of course, he would run.He always runs—just like now, pretending it’s one of his busy hours. Pretending he’s too important to stay."I just got a business deal. I think I need to go," he said, so casually. But I knew—he wasn’t leaving for work. He was fleeing reality.He’s escaping the truth.Th
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