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!"
