“I'll make you understand what regret really means.”

The words had barely left his mouth before the two mastiffs behind him fixed their eyes on my hands, teeth bared.

I tried to swat them away.

But my hands were nowhere near fast enough.

Seeing that I wouldn't submit, one of them clamped down on my calf, quick and brutal and exact.

The pain came fast, ripping a scream out of me.

At that, the other lunged for the back of my hand and bit down hard.

The flesh tore away in an instant, and the agony nearly dragged me under.

Yet the pain didn't stop there.

Once I stopped struggling, the two mastiffs turned on my hands together.

Every bite was like plunging my hands into a vat of boiling oil and being made to turn in it.

The pain and the searing heat across the backs of my hands were unbearable.

Before long, the flesh there had been torn off and swallowed, piece by piece.

And at the same time, blood began to seep slowly from my lower body.

It wasn't just blood.

It was the child I had once longed for with everything in me.

And now, its own father had killed it with his own hands.

The onlookers watched, drawing sharp breaths.

Ignoring the pain in my hands, I forced the words out at Neville through gritted teeth.

“Neville, you killed my child with your own hands. I will never let you off so easily!”

“Just wait. When my father gets here, I'll make you pay for my child with your life.”

Neville had still been smirking, his lips curled.

Until his gaze dropped to the ground beneath me.

A pool of blood lay there now, silent and dark.

His pupils shrank, and he took a step back, his face unreadable.

“How……how is this possible……”

He spun around and bellowed at the butler behind him.

“Where's the butler? Bring me the key to those cages, now!”

Before the butler could even turn.

Eleanor stepped forward, faster.

“Celia, how can you say something like that? This is probably just your period.”

“Besides, if you really were pregnant, why say nothing until now? Why wait until this exact moment to tell Neville?”

“Don't tell me you're using an excuse like this to get Neville to forgive you for what you did before.”

“If so, you really have disappointed us.”

To stoke Neville's anger, Eleanor kept going.

“Neville, you've been so good to her, so patient with her.”

“And she actually says something this vicious, this heartless, to you.”

“Even I can't bear to listen to it.”

“If it were me, I'd never bring myself to let you get hurt.”

Eleanor's words quickly convinced Neville that he had spoiled me far too much.

And convinced him, too, that the miscarriage was a lie.

He stared at me, the disappointment plain on his face.

Then his eyes filled with anger he made no effort to hide.

“Celia, how much longer are you going to keep lying to me?”

“You really have disappointed me.”

With that, he gave a sharp whistle, ordering the mastiffs to go for my belly.

I curled in on myself, trying to shield it.

But a tearing, shredding pain ripped across my back.

The agony forced me to twist slightly to one side.

And in that gap, the mastiff in front of me threw itself at my belly.

Its sharp claws raked down without mercy, again and again.

Before long, a wide spread of blood began pouring from my lower body.

The crowd watching outside broke into screams.

"Whether it's her period or a miscarriage, how can anyone torture a woman like this?"

"Let her out, hurry! She's lost too much blood—she'll die!"

The voices around me, the shouting, were faint against my ears.

By then, I had already slipped into unconsciousness.

Seeing me collapsed in the dog cage, motionless,

Neville shot up from his chair and rushed to the front of the cage.

When he saw how pale I'd gone from the blood loss,

he finally panicked, ordering the dogs to stop and shouting at the butler to bring the key at once.

In the moment the butler turned away to fetch it,

Eleanor, standing behind him, let a small, triumphant smile cross her lips.

Ten minutes later, the butler finally ambled back, and the key to the dog cage was nowhere in his hands.

"Mr. Pruitt, the key to the cage seems to have gone missing somehow."

Neville frowned, glaring at him in displeasure.

"You're the one who's always kept that key. And now you're telling me it's missing?"

Sweat poured down the butler's face.

His eyes drifted, almost without thinking, to Eleanor standing behind Neville.

At that, Eleanor stepped forward at once.

"Neville, maybe Celia hid the key herself."

"She threatened me before."

"She said if I didn't get out of your marital home, she'd lock me in the dog cage."

"She even said she'd already thrown the key away, that even if you came, you couldn't save me."

I forced my eyes open, staring weakly at Neville, and I never imagined he would choose to believe Eleanor yet again.

Five years of feeling between us, gone in that single instant.

"Celia, I'll give you one last chance."

"Kneel down, apologize properly to Eleanor, and I might consider forgiving every mistake you've made and letting you out."

My cracked lips curled into a cold smile.

"Neville, you want me to apologize? Keep dreaming."

"When my father gets here, I'll show you exactly what regret feels like."

Hearing that, Neville's voice came out thick with impatience.

"Celia, you're still talking big, even now."

"I looked into it long ago. There's no so-called heiress in the Gilbert family of Northport."

"Right now, your only choice is to kneel down, apologize, and beg for mercy."

The words had barely left his mouth when the iron gate was flattened by a tank.

Behind the tank came a row of armored assault vehicles.

A passenger door swung open, and a man in tactical gear appeared in front of him.

"I'd like to see who dares make the eldest Gilbert daughter kneel and beg for mercy."