The moment I opened the door, Patricia was already standing outside.
Behind her stood a group of men dressed in black, each holding a box in their hands—eight in total.
Her lips curved into a faint smile as she stepped toward me, her eyes glinting with malice.
"Sis, where are you going?" she asked sweetly. "I heard you gave me three bags of blood. I really ought to thank you for that."
I had no intention of arguing with her. "Move," I said coldly.
Patricia's smile widened, her tone sharpening.
In the next instant, the men in black slammed the door shut behind her.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, taking a step back, my pulse quickening.
"Relax," she said with a laugh. "The truth is I never needed your blood—nor your child's umbilical cord blood."
Then, without warning, she lifted the three blood bags and poured them onto the floor, red liquid splattering everywhere.
Her taunting gaze locked with mine. But I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply stood there, silent.
However, my calmness seemed to drive her mad.
She moved closer until her breath brushed my ear.
"Do you know, Sis? When your baby was born, he was still breathing," she whispered, her voice low and poisonous. "He looked so much like you."
My body went rigid. I turned, my eyes sharp with disbelief.
"When the doctor took him out, he was alive—kicking, crying..." Her voice turned into a mocking laugh. "But I smothered him. With my own hands."
The words sliced through me like blades. My entire body went cold, trembling violently.
"Denise, it's your fault! You're the reason your baby died!" she shouted triumphantly, savoring my pain.
I raised my hand, wanting to slap her across the face, but she caught my wrist and twisted it hard, throwing me to the floor.
The next moment, someone pinned me down.
Patricia's smile grew darker. She ripped the black cloth off the boxes one by one.
Under the harsh light, I saw what was inside—and my pupils dilated in horror.
"Do you like my gift?" she cooed. "It took me a lot of effort to keep them from decaying."
Inside each glass case was a perfectly preserved fetus. Eight of them.
"You're lying," I choked out. "You're lying! They were cremated—the ashes were placed at the temple... Weston told me—"
Patricia burst out laughing. "Oh, Sister. You didn't really believe his lies, did you? He told you they were buried properly, didn't he? That the ashes were sent to a temple?"
Her grin twisted cruelly. "It was all a lie! Hahaha!"
I struggled to stand, but she kicked me down again.
"Since you've now seen them one last time," she sneered, "it's time you send them off properly."
"What are you going to do?!" I shouted, terror seizing me.
At her signal, someone brought in a large black dog on a chain.
Patricia snapped her fingers. The men in black opened the glass boxes and hurled the tiny bodies toward the dog.
"No!" I thrashed violently, trying to reach them, but they held me down.
"Patricia, you monster! Give my children back!" I screamed until my throat tore, but it was useless.
The sound of the dog's teeth tearing flesh filled the room. I felt something inside me shatter completely.
I collapsed to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please... I'll do anything! Just stop! Don't hurt them!"
Patricia's expression softened into something almost sweet. "Well, since you're begging so nicely," she said, "kneel and kowtow a hundred times—to atone for your sins against my child."
My jaw clenched, and slowly, I lowered myself to the floor.
Bang—
My forehead struck the tiles.
Again, and again.
The dull sound echoed through the room, each hit drawing blood until my vision blurred red.
Finally, I lifted my gaze toward her, silently pleading. But she only looked down at me with a sneer.
"Sister, you're really stupid," she said, laughing. "Did you actually believe me? I've hated you for eight years! How could I let you go?"
"If I had known you were so easy to deceive, I wouldn't have had to plan for eight years!"
Her laughter grew manic. With a flick of her hand, the men resumed throwing the remains toward the dog.
"No—!" I lunged forward, but one of the bodyguards kicked me hard, slamming me to the floor.
They held my head down, forcing me to watch as my children were devoured before my eyes.
"Stop... please stop..." My voice broke. I could barely breathe through the sobs.
"Patricia!" I screamed, tears streaming. "I'll make you pay with your life for what you've done!"
Fueled by anguish, I charged toward her—aiming for the life in her belly. But before I could reach her, a guard kicked me aside.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Patricia's expression shifted instantly. She slapped herself twice then tore her clothes, and knelt beside me, sobbing.
"Sis, I'm sorry! Please don't hurt my baby!"
"Patricia! Are you alright?"
Weston burst through the door, rushing to her side.
"Weston," she whimpered, clinging to him, "I only came to thank Sister for saving me... but she had her men humiliate me instead..."
Her voice trembled, her tears falling like pearls.
Weston's face darkened as he looked around at the blood on the floor.
The men in black dropped to their knees.
"Mr. Holmes—we were only following Madam's orders!"
He turned toward me, his eyes burning with disgust. "Denise. Apologize!"
I stared at him for a long moment, then laughed—laughing until the tears streamed down my cheeks.
"Weston, you're right," I said hoarsely. "I was wrong."
"My mistake was not sending you both to hell sooner."
His expression faltered for a split second, unease flickering in his eyes. But then he looked at the trembling woman in his arms, and his heart hardened again.
"Lock her in the water dungeon," he ordered coldly.
The water dungeon—his private torture chamber for his enemies. Once inside, few ever came out alive.
I was dragged away and thrown into its freezing depths.
The pain, the humiliation, the endless cold—it all blurred together until my body gave out.
And at last, everything went dark.
