“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.
