Maximilian slowly approached Charlotte.
There had been a time when she had stood before him in a crown.
Charlotte had once been a queen—his queen in the life they had shared. He had seen her proud, sharp-tongued, and fiercely protective of the people she loved. He had watched her walk through royal halls as though the entire kingdom belonged beneath her feet.
He had never seen her like this.
Curled on a filthy floor. Her body reduced to little more than bones beneath loose clothing. Her eyes were vacant, her lips moving soundlessly as she whispered to someone who wasn't there.
Maximilian stopped a few feet away.
Perhaps this was what hatred did when it was allowed to consume someone completely. Jealousy. Obsession. The desire to destroy another person until there was nothing left of them.
Eventually, it destroyed the person carrying it.
