Anna walked briskly, refusing to look back.
What did he need from her? To continue with his deceit—his false display of love. To fill her more with his lies.
No she did not want that, he should keep his hurtful love to himself.
It was games night in the castle, and as usual Anna would remain in her room through it all, William also did not partake in such activities anymore.
William wheeled into the office, he wheeled towards Anna's desk. For the first time since Anna moved to the castle to take care of his affairs, he was curious to know what she was doing—to know her affairs.
He picked up the jotter she had left on the table, his conscience urging him not to give in to his curiosity. Ignoring it, he flipped to the last page she had written on. It detailed everything discussed at the meeting, but at the very bottom of the page, written so small he would have missed it, were the words; hurtful love.
