The clack of heels echoed against marble floors, sharp and venomous, like a warning no one dared to answer.
Zarya’s figure appeared from the shadows, every curve wrapped in black silk, every step deliberate. Her smirk was carved into her face like sin itself. She didn’t bother lowering her voice, not when the maids were already trembling before her.
“I’d love to watch that b***h choke on her own vomit,” Zarya whispered, low but venomous, her words slicing through the heavy air like knives. “Let’s see how strong she is when death starts crawling up her throat, when every breath feels like fire. She’ll wish she had never touched a single f*****g utensil in this hall.”
The maids froze mid-motion. One’s hand still clutched the silver goblet, another held a linen cloth trembling against a p
