Armando's fingers trembled as he stared at the ripples spreading rapidly across the pool.

While the guests' attention was still fixed on the water, he grabbed the butler by the collar, his knuckles whitening as he hissed through gritted teeth, "Get her out. Hide her in the attic. And if a third person finds out about this—pack your things and get out of the Robbins house!"

The butler's face turned ashen. He stumbled toward the pool in a panic.

From the corner of the garden, Karylle watched every flicker of panic in Armando's eyes. She immediately moved closer, her tone soft and soothing, fingers lightly patting his back as if to comfort him.

"Arman, don't panic. I know you care about her, but in front of so many reporters—what else could I have said? If I hadn't claimed she was the one pestering you, imagine what headlines they'd write tomorrow. The Robbins family just went through a crisis; we can't afford another scandal. I had no choice... please don't blame me."

Her voice trembled delicately, her face full of pity—but deep in her eyes, a hint of triumph glimmered.

"I only wanted to protect your reputation."

Armando's thoughts were in disarray, and somehow her words managed to soothe the chaos inside him. He pressed a hand to his temple, a flicker of genuine gratitude crossing his face.

"I know... I've wronged you."

But for the rest of the banquet, he was like a man who'd lost his soul.

Guests came up one after another, raising glasses and offering congratulations, but his eyes kept drifting toward the attic.

Someone joked, "Mr. Robbins, you and Miss Andrade are truly a match made in heaven!"

His lips twitched into something that could hardly be called a smile—more painful than tears.

All he could see was Debbie's face as she sank beneath the water—her eyes shut tight, her hair floating lifelessly on the surface like black silk. Every image stabbed at his heart, one needle after another.

Karylle watched him drift away in silence, her nails digging deep into her palm until blood welled up. Her hatred for Debbie was a living thing, burning behind her eyes.

When the last guest finally left, Armando didn't even bother taking off his jacket. He stormed up the stairs to the attic like a man possessed.

The door slammed open.

Debbie sat at the edge of the bed, wrapped in a thin blanket. Her skin was pale as paper, but her breathing was steady. The moment he saw her alive, his chest loosened in relief—only for fury to ignite the very next second.

He crossed the room in three long strides, towering over her.

"Who told you to come downstairs?!" he thundered. "Didn't I tell you to stay in your room? You just had to make a scene, didn't you? Were you trying to ruin everything I've built in the Robbins family?!"

Debbie slowly lifted her gaze to him. There were no tears, no anger—only a vast, desolate emptiness in her eyes, like a prairie burned to ash where even the wind could no longer stir.

"Ruin you?" Her voice was soft, almost weightless. "Armando, it was you who had the butler drug me with sleeping pills. You deliberately locked me up and ordered them to throw me into that pool."

She gave a bitter smile. "I came downstairs just to see... how cruel the man I've protected for three years could really be when faced with power and inheritance."

Her eyes met his, dark and unflinching gaze. "Now I know. You're even ruthless than I imagined."

Her words struck like stones to the chest. Armando's breath hitched—his anger twisting with guilt. But before he could speak, Karylle appeared in the doorway, leaning weakly against the frame, her hand resting delicately on her waist as she shuffled inside.

"Arman," she said softly, tugging on his arm, "Debbie must be confused after falling into the water. Don't take her words to heart."

Then she turned, her expression the picture of gentle reason. "But Debbie, you really shouldn't have acted like that today. The guests were all powerful people from New York. You rushing in like that... it makes people question whether Armando can even manage his private life. How can he lead the Robbins family if he can't?"

Her words were like a spark dropped into oil.

Armando's fury erupted completely. "Do you hear that? Even Karylle understands what's at stake! She's always thinking of me—while you? You only know how to bring me trouble!"

His voice turned into a roar. "Debbie, maybe it's time you learned what obedience means!"

He spun toward the servants standing outside the door. "Lock her down! Without my permission, she gets no food, no water. Let her stay there and think about what she's done!"

The cold iron chains bit into Debbie's wrists, leaving deep red marks as two bodyguards in black dragged her down the stone corridor. The damp air was thick with a metallic stench, a sickly sweetness that made her shiver.

"Armando! You can't lock me in a place like this!"

She struggled, twisting to look back at the man standing on the stone steps above.

A cigarette burned between Armando's fingers, smoke curling lazily around his sharp features. His voice came through the haze—flat, detached, cruelly calm.

"I told you to stay put, but you refused. This time, you'll learn what defiance costs."

Her eyes reddened, her voice hoarse from fury.

"Armando—you'll regret this!"

He gave a low, mirthless laugh and flicked his wrist.

"Take her down."

The heavy iron door groaned open. A rush of humid air, thick with rot and blood, poured out. Debbie was shoved inside; icy water immediately soaked her feet.

She staggered, using the faint light above to orient herself—and froze.

This wasn't an attic. It was a flooded stone chamber. The dark water rippled, and beneath the surface, slender shapes slithered and swam.

Her pupils constricted. Her legs trembled uncontrollably.

"Snakes..."

Memory struck her like a wave.

On her eighteenth birthday, she went on a camping trip with Armando. She'd gone out in the middle of the night and accidentally stepped into a snake's nest. A gray-green serpent had coiled around her ankle, its cold, scaled body pressing against her bare skin, tongue flicking as it brushed her calf.

She screamed, frozen in terror—until Armando came running. He'd carefully pried the snake off her, pulled her trembling body into his arms, and whispered, "Don't be afraid, Debbie. I'm here. I'll never let you face a snake again."

Back then, his eyes had been filled with warmth, so gentle it could melt stone.

But now—he had personally thrown her into a pit full of snakes.

"Armando... you're truly heartless..."

The words slipped from her lips as her chest constricted painfully, as though an invisible hand was crushing her heart.

Then something brushed against her ankle.

A water snake slid past her skin, cold and slick. She screamed and stumbled backward, tripping into deeper water. The disturbance sent ripples across the pool.

Dozens of serpents stirred. They surged toward her, weaving through the dark water. Some wrapped around her arms; others coiled up her legs.

"Get away! Don't touch me!"

She flailed wildly, but the more she struggled, the more the snakes swarmed.

Then pain—sharp and searing—bit through her calf. She looked down to see a black water snake sunk deep into her flesh, its fangs puncturing her skin, fire spreading through her veins.

Another bit her thigh. Then another.

Agonizing pain bloomed everywhere, prickling like fire and needles beneath her skin. Her vision blurred.

Then came a different pain—a stabbing, twisting agony in her abdomen. Something deep inside her body felt like it was being torn away. She collapsed into the water, curling in on herself, clutching her stomach as cold sweat drenched her skin.

She didn't know that at that very moment, the life growing inside her—their child—was slipping away.

Outside the dungeon, Armando stood before the surveillance screen, watching Debbie writhed in agony on the monitor.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, causing him to suddenly come to his senses.

A hint of complex emotion flashed in his eyes, but as soon as he thought of Debbie's disobedient appearance, that hesitation disappeared instantly.

"Once she admits she was wrong," he said coldly, "bring her out."

The bodyguard nodded.

But he didn't know—by then, Debbie's heart had already turned to ash.

That night, she burned with fever, her skin flushed scarlet.

In the haze of half-consciousness, she heard the door creak open, and the butler's voice, trembling and urgent. "Mr. Robbins, Miss Ingram is covered in snake bites—her whole body is burning up! If we don't get a doctor soon, she might not make it!"

Before Armando could answer, Karylle's gentle tone cut in, deliberately hesitant.

"Dying?" she echoed softly. "Arman, don't you think she's pretending? Those snakes aren't poisonous. She made such a scene earlier—maybe now she's faking a fever just to win your sympathy. You shouldn't fall for that. It's such a common trick."

Footsteps stopped outside the door. Armando's jaw tightened. His voice was ice. "Let her burn. Maybe she'll think clearly once the fever breaks."

Inside, Debbie heard every word.

Her burning body shuddered violently. Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks, mixing with sweat as they slipped into her collar—cold against fevered skin, like knives carving through what was left of her heart.

The next morning, the door creaked open. Karylle stepped in, wearing a syrupy smile so sweet it could rot teeth. She reached out as if to help.

"Debbie, you're awake? I didn't sleep a wink last night and kept worrying you'd be cold or hungry. Armando, too—he was restless all night, muttering your name in his sleep. You know how he is, proud on the surface, but deep down, he still cares about you."

Her fingertips brushed Debbie's arm—and in her eyes, a flash of cruelty cut through the false warmth.

Debbie shoved her hand away and steadied herself against the wall, forcing her weak legs to move one step at a time down the stairs.

Karylle's voice dropped low, meant for her ears alone. "Debbie, do you still think I've been tormenting you all these years because I was jealous?"

Debbie froze mid-step, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve.

Karylle let out a soft laugh—sweet, but sharp with venom. "The truth is, everything I've ever done to you—the car accident, the night you almost froze to death on the mountain, the fire, even the time I had you tied to that operating table—it was all part of a bet."

She paused deliberately, watching the blood drain from Debbie's face, then continued, savoring each word.

"Armando said that if I could torture you ninety-nine times without you ever suspecting him, and still make you believe he loved you, he'd help me secure access to the Robbins family's assets—and promise to marry me. For him, it was just a game. A way to win the Robbins family's trust and claim his spot as heir."

She leaned close to Debbie's ear, her voice soft and serpentine.

"You were nothing more than a wager between us."

Smiling, her tone turned mocking. "A plain, naïve woman like you—did you really think he could love you? When he watched me bully you, he probably found your tears amusing. The affection you clung to was just his ladder to success. The pain you endured was the price he made you pay for his ambition."

Debbie felt her heart seize in her chest. The air seemed to vanish from her lungs. Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

She lifted her head abruptly, eyes bloodshot and wide, lips trembling—but no sound came out.

So the three years of tenderness had been a lie.

The pleading by the operating table had been an act.

Even those fleeting moments of gentleness were nothing but carefully scripted illusions.

Karylle watched her stagger and tremble, then stood upright, smoothing her dress with satisfaction. "Well, the game's over now. He's the Robbins heir, I'm his fiancée, and you—you should crawl back to where you came from."

She turned toward the spiral staircase, but halfway down, her voice caught in a feigned gasp.

"Ah—!"

In a single motion, she stumbled forward—then, with a vicious flick of her wrist, she shoved Debbie hard in the back.

Still feverish and weak, Debbie lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs like a leaf in the wind. Her back slammed against the edge of a step; pain exploded through her body, and she nearly vomited blood.

Karylle rolled down a few steps herself, clutching her abdomen, and began to sob pitifully.

"My baby... I just got pregnant... why would you push me, Debbie?"

When Armando came rushing in, his eyes went straight to the crying woman on the floor.

He pulled Karylle into his arms, then glared down at Debbie, his voice a roar of fury.

"Debbie! How could you be so vicious? Karylle came to release you, and you pushed her down the stairs? Is your heart made of stone?!"

Debbie lay sprawled on the cold marble, her bones aching as though shattered. Every breath was agony.

"It wasn't me! She pulled me down with her!"

She struggled to rise, clutching the banister, her abdomen throbbing so sharply she saw spots. But she forced herself to speak, desperate.

"Armando, check the security footage—it'll prove I'm innocent!"

Karylle, still nestled weakly in his arms, looked up with tearful eyes.

"Security footage?" she echoed softly, her voice trembling just right. "Debbie, how can you lie like that just to clear your name? You and I argued, you pushed me, and now you want to accuse me of framing you? How can you be so cruel?"

Armando looked down at Karylle's pale face, at the blood staining her dress—and something inside him snapped.

He stormed toward Debbie, towering over her. His tone was sharp as a blade.

"Apologize to Karylle."

Debbie's eyes were red, her voice raw.

"I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"

Her gaze burned through tears. "Armando, you won't even check the cameras before condemning me? Have you forgotten who I am—who I was to you?"

His anger flared, ugly and unrestrained. He grabbed her wrist so hard she winced.

"The past is gone!" he barked. "Karylle and the baby are hurt because of you! If you don't apologize, I swear, you'll regret it."

The raw hatred in his eyes pierced through Debbie like a knife. Her whole body trembled as pain rippled through her stomach, merging with the ache in her chest.

And then—she laughed. A hollow, broken sound. Tears streamed down her face.

"No matter what I say, you'll never believe me." Her voice cracked. "Armando, you disgust me."

Seeing her defiance only deepened his rage. He turned to the servants, shouting until his voice broke.

"No one must help her! Let her lie there and think about what she has done! Anyone who dares help her—leave the Robbins house immediately!"

He turned, cradling Karylle in his arms, and strode away without looking back. Not even once.

Debbie remained on the floor. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, falling across her pale face—but it could no longer warm her.

She watched his retreating figure disappear through the doorway and finally closed her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek. "Armando... I truly regret ever meeting you."

Suddenly, a figure walked over not far away.

"Miss Ingram," a low voice said softly, "I'm sorry I'm late. I've come to take you home."

...

Meanwhile, Armando's phone rang.

A servant's panicked voice came through the line. "Sir! Something's wrong—someone just took Miss Ingram away!"