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.
