Andrey's low, hungry reply—a wide grin in his voice as he continued to thrust, mercilessly pushing her limits.
Isabel could sense his satisfaction radiating through the dark, but her blindfold kept his face a secret. She strained against the cuffs, overwhelmed by the sensations wracking her body.
But what Isabel didn't know—what her blindfold shielded from her—was the dark truth: it wasn't Andrey inside her each time. One after another, different men took their turn, using her as a vessel for their desires, while Andrey and Lira stood at the edge of the room, grinning wickedly as every man in the chamber sampled Isabel's helpless, feverish body.
Something was wrong.Isabel could feel it in her bones—the air was too still, too heavy. Her wrists were bound, her legs restrained, and darkness wrapped around her like a suffocating veil.She could hear faint laughter somewhere in the room—low, unfamiliar, and cruel.
"Andrey… what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
No answer.Only the sound of footsteps, the shift of weight, and the echo of breathing that didn't sound like his.Fear crawled through her veins, cold and paralyzing.
"Please…" her voice broke, barely a breath now.
"Please, stop... I can't take it anymore!" Isabel screamed through tears, her voice raw with terror as the hot sting of blood seeped between her thighs. The panic in her eyes was wild, desperate.
Andrey's voice rumbled dark and deep, cold and unyielding at her plea.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Isabel?"
"No! Please, I could lose the baby if you keep going! Stop, Andrey—my stomach hurts!" Isabel sobbed, struggling against the restraints digging into her wrists and ankles, but every desperate attempt only made the relentless thrusts continue, her body utterly powerless and trapped, forced to endure wave after merciless wave.
Until finally, Isabel's body could no longer bear the torment—pleasure and pain merging into a single, merciless wave. She collapsed, unconscious, breath ragged as fresh blood trickled slowly down her thighs, her legs still tied wide open at the corners of the bed.
The last man standing by the bed glanced at Andrey, his face flushed with unsatisfied desire.
"What now? I didn't even get my turn..." he muttered to Andrey, frustration and hunger thick in his voice.
Andrey chuckled coldly, his eyes sweeping over the men still waiting with eager, desperate faces.
"There's always tomorrow night. Come back then. Her delight isn't just for tonight," Andrey replied smoothly, a wide, devilish grin stretching across his lips.
Lira, having watched the spectacle with obvious delight, turned to the waiting men with a wild, taunting smirk.
"You've never felt the thrill of fucking someone else's bride before, have you?" Lira teased, her laughter ringing through the lavish chamber.
Their laughter and crude jests filled the air, eyes hungrily fixed on Isabel's limp, ravaged form.
Andrey clapped a hand on their shoulders, his voice slicing through the tension—
"Tomorrow night, every one of you will get your turn."
The next morning, Isabel awoke to a dimly lit room. The faint scent of medicine lingered in the air. A doctor sat by her bedside, his expression calm but detached.
"So, you're finally awake, Isabel," he said coolly. There was no hint of respect in his tone — why would there be, when she was merely a commoner soon to marry the Count's son?
Isabel jerked upright, panic flickering in her eyes."What… what happened? The wedding—how is the wedding?"
The doctor only sighed, shaking his head slightly. She was injured, pale, trembling — yet the first thing on her mind was the ceremony.
The door creaked open. Andrey stepped in, his presence immediately chilling the room. His eyes swept over her without warmth."Get ready if you still plan to marry," he said curtly.
Two maids entered at once, while the doctor rose from his chair, gathering his tools. As he passed Andrey, he spoke in a low, cautious voice."She nearly miscarried. You should be more gentle, and… refrain from any further strain or intimacy for now."
Andrey merely nodded, expression unreadable.
"I understand you love her deeply," the doctor continued, trying to sound diplomatic, "but what happened could have caused lasting harm. You must be careful."
Andrey smiled faintly — a smile that didn't reach his eyes."Of course, Doctor. You should go now. Surely you wouldn't want to miss the celebration, would you?"
He gave the man a light push toward the door. The doctor, though uneasy, forced a polite laugh and left the room.
Andrey entered the room, His eyes were filled with disgust, as though every moment spent near her was a punishment.
"You enjoyed last night, didn't you?" she asked playfully, trying to lighten the mood.
Andrey scoffed. "You fainted halfway through. That annoyed me."
Isabel lowered her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and guilt."I'm sorry… I was tired. My stomach hurt a little. But… you were amazing last night," she said with a tender smile, trying to ease his irritation.
Andrey said nothing. His cold eyes lingered on her as he took a short breath."Get ready," he said flatly. "It's about to begin."
Isabel nodded obediently, hiding her nervousness behind a trembling smile.And in the great mirror before her, she saw her reflection—a bride who looked radiant and happy, though her heart was already beginning to shatter.
The wedding took place at the Erickson family's private chapel. All the important guests were present — including Marchioness Albrecht and Leon, though their expressions made it clear they weren't happy to be there. Liv was absent, as she wasn't allowed to leave the castle before her own upcoming wedding.
Andrey stood before the high priest, his eyes briefly meeting the Albrecht family's. His chest tightened — it should have been Liv standing beside him, not Isabel.
Crown Prince Julian attended as the Emperor's representative, adding grandeur to the ceremony. When the grand doors opened, everyone rose to greet Isabel, the bride, who walked nervously down the aisle escorted by the head butler — her only guardian now that she had no family left.
Whispers rippled through the crowd as Isabel approached the altar. She finally stood beside Andrey, who refused to look at her.
The ceremony proceeded solemnly. The vows were spoken, and the two were officially declared husband and wife. But just as the priest finished his blessing, a startled voice rang out among the guests:
"Isabel is bleeding!"