The world seemed to stop. Andrey stared at her, expression unreadable, then his lips curved into a hollow, disbelieving laugh.
"Don't joke with me, Isabel." His tone was sharp—like a blade dragged slowly across skin.
"I'm not lying," she said softly. "I'm carrying your child."
He stood still for a long moment, eyes locked on hers, his breath heavy. Then, slowly, that laugh came again—quiet, bitter.
"You really do know how to ruin everything, don't you?"
Isabel shook her head desperately. "I didn't mean to—"
Andrey dragged Isabel to the Erickson family residence, gripping her wrist so tightly she was nearly pulled along. The servants froze when the main doors slammed open, Andrey's heavy steps echoing through the hall.
Count Erickson, his father, looked up from the sitting room, his face hardening.
"What is the meaning of all this commotion?"
Andrey's face burned with anger.
"This is all because of her!" he shouted, shoving Isabel forward. "She's the one who changed Liv! She provoked everything, twisted everything, and now it's all ruined!"
Isabel fell to her knees, trembling. "N-no… it's not like that! I only wanted to help—"
"Help?" Count Erickson's voice was like steel.
"You call this helping?" He rose from his chair, his expression darkening further.
"Do you even realize what you've done to our family's name?! The whole empire knows about that engagement—and it's not with you!"
Countess looked at her son with wide eyes. "Andrey… you can't—"
"I don't care!" Andrey's voice shook. "I didn't mean for this! She—" he pointed at Isabel, trembling, "it's all her fault! She orchestrated everything!"
Tears streamed down Isabel's face. "That's not true! You said—"
"Enough!" Count's voice thundered, cutting her off. He fixed a sharp glare on his son.
"You've shamed this family, Andrey. And now you want me to believe it's all this girl's fault?"
Andrey lowered his head, his voice weakening under his father's piercing gaze.
"She is at fault… if it weren't for her, Liv wouldn't hate me like this…"
Count slammed his cane against the marble floor.
"Silence! Duke Zareth has already accepted that engagement—you know what that means?! The Emperor himself sanctioned it! And you—"He turned his gaze to Isabel with disgust."—you've destroyed the only chance this family had to survive."
Countess bowed her head, silent tears falling. Isabel tried to speak again, but Count raised his hand.
"Take her away from this house. I never want to hear her name again."
"You think this is merely a warning? No," he said coldly. "Isabel will be locked in the torture chamber until I am satisfied she confesses all her wrongdoings."
Isabel staggered, her eyes wide with fear. "W-what? No! I… I only—"
"Shut your mouth!" Count bellowed. "You've spoken far too much. Do you think this family would let you tarnish our name? You will learn the true meaning of punishment!"
Andrey looked at Isabel, his rage still burning, his jaw tense.
"You're the one who caused all of this, Isabel… now you will face the consequences."
Two hesitant servants stepped forward but quickly obeyed. As they pulled Isabel away, she turned to Andrey, her voice trembling.
"Andrey, please… you promised you'd protect me…"
Countess lowered her head, worried but dared not oppose him. The servants prepared the torture room—dark, narrow, with chains and iron shackles. Isabel was dragged inside, her body trembling, small cries escaping as the iron door slammed shut behind her.
Andrey stood outside the door, fists clenched, staring at the now helpless Isabel.
"All of this is because of you, Isabel… all because of your actions."
Silence engulfed the hall, broken only by the sound of chains scraping inside the torture room. Andrey exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the marble floor, his anger toward the girl burning hotter in his heart.
The atmosphere in the Erickson family hall turned ice‑cold.The fact that Isabel was merely a servant's child made the truth blunt: who would fight for her life? No one. Everyone knew—being a servant's daughter, her life held no weight in matters of politics or finance. Whatever happened to her, no one in that circle of power would lift a finger to help—especially since the family considered her their possession.
Count rose to his feet, his face flushed with a raw, bitter anger. "How could this happen—after we raised her, gave her a comfortable life—she becomes greedy and ruins everything?" His voice hissed with disgust.
The Countess looked toward where Isabel had been dragged away, her expression curled with contempt. "Absolutely revolting," she spat.
Andrey clenched his jaw until the vein in his neck stood out; shame and fury shook him. In a corner, Lira only laughed—a small, cruel sound—seeing at last a new 'puppet' to toy with and torment for the family's gain.
A moment of silence hung over them. Then the Countess cut it with a calm, hard question, "So what's the plan? The Marquess's daughter won't come back to undo this—the marriage has already been arranged and sanctioned. We must act."
Andrey stared at the floor, then lifted his head, his eyes burning.
"I will find a way to ruin that engagement. I won't stand by and watch this happen." His voice held resolve—less for love than for wounded pride.
The Count frowned, thinking quickly. "That man will help us. Anrik has long served those people."
"He will, Father," Andrey answered.
The Countess turned to Andrey with a cold stare. "But remember: Liv hasn't touched the investment funds she placed. That is our leverage now—capital and influence. You must ensure she can't withdraw that money. If she secures financial access, all our maneuvers collapse."
Leon bowed his head, calculating possibilities. "We need to lock the documents—proofs of ownership, investment agreements. If Liv tries to withdraw, we must have legal countermeasures or compromising evidence to hold her back."
Lira added in a sly tone, "Or spread rumors that undermine her reputation—make the nobility doubt the Marquess's ability to manage the funds. A small market panic, investors pull back, funds frozen temporarily. That will shift everyone's focus to financial troubles, not Liv's feelings."
The Count nodded slowly, his eyes cold and circling like a predator. "Prepare everything. Contact Anrik and our people. Arrange documents so we can block any withdrawal if necessary. Andrey—you will be the spearhead; you must plug the gaps and, if needed, play the conciliator. You mustn't be a spectacle anymore."
Andrey swallowed hard, his gaze flaring with determination. "Very well. I'll do whatever it takes."