"Let us explain—" Beatrix's voice was a desperate plea, but the fire in Sylvester's bloodshot eyes silenced her.
"Explain?" Sylvester's voice was a low, seething growl. "Is there anything left to explain, Beatrix? Because as far as I know, you've done more than just deceive me."
Beatrix's face went deathly pale, her composure cracking. A tremor ran through her as Sylvester's accusation crashed over her like a tidal wave.
"You've been drugging Richard," Sylvester continued, his words sharp as knives. "Keeping him sick, stopping his recovery, and feeding him medication that only deteriorates his health."
The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with shock and disbelief. Beatrix's carefully woven mask of innocence began to crumble.
"W-What… what are you talking about?" She stammered, trying to muster some semblance of composure. "I… I would never do such a thing. You must be mistaken."
