Chapter 1162
There was only one law for traitors—death.
Miguel’s lips curved in a cold smile, but he said nothing.
“I don’t care what you’ve become. You and Sophie are traitors. The Griffiths show no mercy to those who turn their backs. To let you live would shame our bloodline forever,” Maxine continued, her tone sharp as a blade.
Miguel’s eyes hardened, and a wry laugh slipped out. How hypocritical. Rita had also betrayed the Griffiths family, yet Maxine had never called her a traitor. Rita had always been the one Maxine favored.
The thought struck a nerve. He had loved Rita for half his life—and despised her for the rest. She had a way of charming everyone she met, a light that drew people in.
On the outside, Miguel was stone-cold, but inside, his thoughts wandered to the love he’d never had.
Maxine didn’t attack right away. Instead, her voice softened into something almost curious.
“Miguel, you’ve always hated how our family values women over men. But have you ever asked yourself why our ancestors made that rule?”
Miguel stayed silent, though her words piqued his curiosity. He had never fathomed why the Griffiths family valued women and despised men.
“The Griffiths family fell from a royal house of glory to prisoners awaiting execution—all because a man of our own turned against us…” Maxine’s voice was cold as she began recounting the ancient tragedy that destroyed the Griffiths Dynasty a thousand years ago.
In the final days of the Griffithses’ reign, the kingdom had been riddled with corruption and unrest, but it was not yet beyond saving. With the right leadership, it might have endured.
But then the traitor had stirred the pot—a prince of their own blood who sold his people to their enemies, shattering the dynasty from within and dooming it to ruin.
If not for a single exiled princess who had managed to escape before the fall, the Griffiths bloodline would have vanished entirely.
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It was that same princess who later rebuilt the family from the ashes. Scarred by betrayal, she’d sworn that no man of Griffith blood would ever hold true power again.
As matriarch, she’d forged two laws that would never be broken. The first—traitors must die, no matter how far they fled. The second—men of the Griffiths line would forever serve beneath the women who ruled them. Cruel and unyielding, these decrees had become the backbone of every generation that followed.
Now, Maxine held those ancient laws like a sword—and tonight, that sword was meant for Miguel.
When her tale ended, Maxine exhaled softly.
“Miguel, your last words,” she said, her tone flat and final.
The meaning was clear. She intended to finish this—right here, right now.
Miguel’s brow furrowed.
.
.
.