Little Princess

Cruden laughed. The lifeless sound bounced off the walls, cold and piercing. He slid his palms into his pant pockets. With a cruel tilt of his head, he knew what the father and daughter made him to be. The villain. The monster holding the Princess captive in her ivory tower.

"Take a good look at your daughter, Fiore." Cruden narrowed his gaze. "She's fed. She's decorated. She's pampered so much more than when she was in your care."

Cecil glanced into his arms and sure enough, he couldn't prove Cruden wrong. Roselia's black locks shined under the chandelier lights, her neck and wrists adorned with expensive jewelry, her skin milky and smooth without a hint of a bruise. She seemed to have even gained back healthy weight since he last saw her.

"My wife is simply throwing a tantrum for my attention." Cruden's voice darkened, yet he smiled in amusement. A sickening sight for Cecil who scowled. "I'll deal with her tears myself. Come, Roselia."