Whitney's POV

Finally, when I looked at David again, all emotion had drained from my eyes.

I bit my lower lip so hard it bled before saying, “A fake nun doesn’t get to put on a show here.”

The moment those words left my mouth, the entire room fell silent.

David’s jaw twitched. “What did you just say?”

Andrea immediately stepped in to hold him back, gently tugging him toward his seat. “Don’t let her get to you, David. Don’t hurt your health over this.” She gave me a sideways glance and sneered, “Let the rabid dog bark. We’ll see where that gets her.”

“This time, I choose number 10,” I calmly said, looking at the butler.

That egg had a distinct pattern on it, and I recognized it as my second child.

The butler raised an eyebrow, a sly smile forming on his lips. “Miss Miller, are you sure? If you're wrong again, you’ll only have one fake egg left.”

The crowd burst into laughter.

“You see that? Mr. Elledge and his wife already figured her out. They were just giving her a way to save face earlier.”

“But Whitney wouldn’t back down. And now she’s insulting the Madam’s religious beliefs. She's not afraid of divine punishment, huh?”

“Descendant of Eirian? Sounds like some fantasy novel nonsense. She’s just lying to everyone, including herself.”

Their taunts hit like steel whips across my back.

Fighting the pain, I slowly lifted my head and said, “Cut the crap. Just tell me the result.”

The butler didn’t answer. Instead of retrieving egg number 10, he picked up the one next to it.

“The answer is..." he trailed off, "wrong again.”

Before I could stop him, he tossed my egg into a silver platter. The shell cracked open with a sickening pop, and a wave of thick, foul-smelling fluid spilled out, along with a blurred, barely-formed piece of flesh.

No… no, this couldn't be real.

I couldn’t breathe. My brain went blank, and my nerves twitched violently beneath my eyelids.

The butler calmly continued, “Fortunately, we had a gentleman guess correctly just now. That means the egg is now his to deal with.”

A man stepped out from behind the crowd, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Told you! I said it was number 7. Before the game started, Mr. Elledge told me to compare it with 7 and mark a line on number 6. Said it’d be worth it. Sure enough, Whitney got fooled by it, so the victory is mine.”

Holding up the platter proudly, he walked it over to Andrea and asked, “Mrs. Elledge, it looks like the egg’s gone bad. Doesn’t seem edible anymore. How would you like to handle it?”

I started trembling uncontrollably.

It hadn’t gone bad. That was my child’s underdeveloped organs.

Andrea didn’t respond right away. Instead, she calmly took out a strip of yellow prayer cloth from behind her and smiled faintly.

“Miss Miller says I’m a fake nun… well, I guess I’ll have to prove her wrong.”

She looked at the cracked egg with a tilt of her head and continued, “If what you say is true, and this really was your child, then, if I use this, it’ll never find peace in the afterlife.”

I started coughing violently.

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, stolen by her words.

I knew Andrea was no real nun, but I wasn’t brave enough to bet against the power of that cloth.

Lifting my head, my mouth already stained with blood, I whispered, “What do you want from me, Andrea?”

She clasped her hands together in false innocence and replied, “All I want is for you to tell the truth.”

“You claim to be a descendant of Eirian. You made some deal with my father, seduced my brother, drugged him night after night, slept with him, and then wormed your way into thier family’s wealth. All of it... just to secure your place, right?” she accused.

Dozens of eyes stabbed into me like knives, their judgment suffocating.

No. That’s not what happened.

I fell for David the moment I met him, and I wanted to heal him. That was all.

Whitney's POV

Andrea pressed in closer and, with a cold and triumphant voice, pressed, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She dipped her fingers into the thick slime of the snake egg. “Whitney, speak.”

Her fingertip was about to touch the prayer cloth when I doubled over and gasped for air.

“I admit it.”

The words had barely left my mouth before the entire room erupted in laughter.

“I knew it! Whitney’s the type to do anything for money and power, even making up crap about being some descendant of Eirian.”

“Right? She could’ve just come clean from the start. It took Miss Elledge to corner her before she cracked.”

“Well, now it’s settled. Let’s see how David tears her apart.”

David walked slowly toward me. His expression was more terrifying than before, eyes swirling with fury, like a storm ready to break loose.

“Whitney,” he said, his voice cold and biting, “this whole game was just meant to let Andrea blow off some steam. But now… I see what kind of woman you really are.”

“You played me like a fool. Does that make you happy?” he bellowed. “You said you married me to cure my illness. Claimed you were descended from Eirian. Fine. Then let me peel off your snake skin today and see if there’s anything underneath.”

He raised a dagger high over his head, ready to bring it down on my neck, but Andrea stepped in again, gently stopping his arm.

She smiled sweetly and said, “David, if she dies just like that, isn’t it too easy for her? The real show is just getting started.”

Everyone followed her gaze, turning to look behind us.

A strange smell drifted in, steamed meat, faintly sweet, but laced with blood.

Then, a platter of steamed snake eggs was brought in.

The same people who had been clamoring to try them now backed away, faces pale.

“Holy shit. Are we actually supposed to eat that? It smells like death.”

“Smells worse than rotten eggs. Maybe the chef messed up.”

“Or maybe Whitney injected something into the eggs to fake them. God, how twisted can she be?”

Andrea didn’t care about the speculation. She gave the chef a nod, and he brought the platter directly to me.

“Go on. Eat it,” she said, eyes fixed on mine. “You know exactly what it is. More than anyone here.”

“If you finish this… foul little dish, my brother and I might consider sparing your life,” she offered.

I stared blankly at the plate in front of me.

The reddish liquid, the gelatinous bits floating in it, was my third child. She never had the chance to be born—not even the chance to fully form.

When I carried her, I used to imagine hearing her tiny voice call out “Mama” and “Papa.” I dreamed of holding her little body, soft and warm. I pictured her growing up, where by six, she’d be old enough to take human form. I wondered if she’d look more like me or like David.

Behind me, his cold voice snapped me back. “Whitney. Why are you just standing there?”

What a joke. This was the ending I waited for?

My youngest child was steamed alive. My second child was condemned to eternal suffering.

My blood began to boil, crashing through my veins, ready to burst through my skin.

I threw my head back and laughed, “David, you idiot!”

“What did you just say?!” he roared, vexed.

“I said,” I laughed harder, tears burning my eyes, “you absolute fool!”

The very next second, David, one of the snake eggs on the wall, and I all began to violently tremble.

Gasps and screams filled the room.

David’s face twisted in shock.

“No… That’s not possible. This can’t be happening!”