Leaving the hall, Belle made her way to the garden in search of her father. She found him waiting, standing amidst the flowers as if he were a man of peace. She halted for a moment, silently observing the one who had made her childhood a living hell.
To the unknowing eye, he might appear gentle, even approachable, but she knew better. He was no father, he was a demon in a werewolf's skin.
With a resolute expression, she stepped forward, stopping beside him.
"Your Grace… or should I simply call you Belle?" He said, acknowledging her presence with that same devilish smirk she had always despised. The very look that had once terrified her whenever he drew near.
She would never forget the horrors this man had subjected her to, nor how he had made her mother suffer. She could not fathom how one such as he could exist. And yet, no matter how deep her hatred ran, she was bound to him by blood.