The silence that followed Derek's mocking confession was suffocating — thicker than blood, heavier than grief.
Not a single breath dared to break it for what felt like an eternity.
Even the faint rustle of clothing against stone seemed too loud.
Mia's mind simply… stopped.
Her thoughts flatlined.
No words. No denial. No scream.
Just a vast, hollow nothing where her understanding of herself used to be.
Her son — that tiny, fragile boy she had once cradled — had been systematically poisoned, beaten, drowned, burned, hated, erased… while she smiled at lovers, spread her legs, and forgot he existed.
Her chest caved in.
She couldn't breathe past the weight of it.
Her vision blurred, not from tears yet, but from the sheer physical shock of realizing she had been the architect of his hell without ever lifting a finger.
Ruby's eyes weren't just bloodshot — they were scarlet, veins bulging like they might burst.
Her fists clenched so hard her nails drew blood from her palms.
A low, animal growl built in her throat, but she swallowed it down, trembling.
Amelia's tears didn't fall gently.
They spilled — hot, fast, furious — carving tracks down her cheeks.
Her whole body shook with silent, violent sobs she refused to let out.
She looked like she wanted to rip her own skin off.
Wisteria clutched her chest as if someone had driven a blade through it — again and again.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
Only a tiny, broken wheeze escaped.
Isolde, Selene, Veronica, Silva — they were statues of horror.
Faces pale, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief.
The air around them felt poisoned by the truth they had just heard.
And then Amelia broke.
She lunged forward like a wild thing, fingers clawing into Derek's collar so hard the fabric tore.
Her voice came out raw, shredded, barely human:
"Tell me…"
Her whole body vibrated with rage.
"Tell me, you fucking piece of shit… WHY?"
Each word was ripped from her throat.
"Why did you plot against my brother?
Why did you help poison him?
Why did you let him suffer while we… while I…"
Her voice cracked — high, ugly, full of self-hatred.
Tears flew from her face as she shook him.
"TELL ME OR I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEART OUT RIGHT HERE!"
Derek didn't flinch.
He slowly raised both hands, grabbed her wrist with calm, deliberate strength, and peeled her fingers off his collar like she was nothing.
Then he smiled — slow, cruel, satisfied.
"Why not?"
His voice was almost gentle.
"I'll tell you everything… but there are three conditions."
He raised one finger.
"First: Your brother sets us free. All of us."
Second finger.
"Let me ride you, Amelia. Be my whore for a full day. Beg me.
I want to fuck a heavily pregnant woman.
Imagine it — my cock sliding deep, pressing right against your baby's body… feeling it move while I fill you.
What a delicious fucking feeling that would be."
Third finger.
"And third… let Jacob ride Mia again.
In front of the entire duchy.
Oh, and I'll fuck you in front of them all too."
He leaned back against the chains, eyes gleaming.
"So… that's the price.
Are any of you willing to pay it?"
His laughter erupted — mad, jagged, echoing off the white walls like broken glass.
But Marina — voice steady, almost tired — cut through it.
"Honey… stop acting tough.
Both Maria and I are already pregnant.
Just tell them what they want to know.
Let them release us.
Whatever happens to Christopher and the rest… that's their fight.
Why drag ourselves into it?"
Derek turned to her, smile fading into something colder.
"Marina… why do I have to remember that nauseating life?
You know it better than anyone."
He looked back at the women.
"Don't you remember, Marina?
Every single day Christopher came to our house.
Begged you to ride him.
Told you every filthy detail about what Mia was doing… how he was faring…"
His voice dropped, venomous.
"After fucking you every day for a year… that one day you got pregnant with our Maria."
Maria — sitting on the cold floor, voice small — asked:
"Dad means… I came from Uncle Christopher's seed?"
Derek's smile returned, slow and sick.
"Not entirely, honey.
Actually… one day your mother wanted two cocks in the same hole at once.
So me and your Uncle Christopher… both fucked her cunt together.
Two dicks stretching the same hole.
We came inside her at the same time.
And that's how you were made."
Maria stared at the floor.
"And brother?"
Derek:
"Your brother… I impregnated your mother myself."
Marina turned to Mia and the others.
"Mia… I understand your pain.
You've just learned what Lucifer suffered.
But I don't feel even the slightest guilt.
So let me start from the very beginning — when Lucifer was just born.
You know Jacob is only two months older.
When Lucifer came into this world… that child consumed you.
Completely.
Maybe because he was your son and you loved him.
Maybe because he was male and you already saw him as future cock.
You were head-over-heels.
Obsessed.
In the beginning Christopher liked him too.
Even Derek and I did.
But you… you never let him go.
Always holding him, cuddling him, like he was your entire existence.
A month passed.
Then Christopher started to resent it.
Your husband should have come first.
But you kept Lucifer glued to your chest.
You didn't fuck anyone — not even Christopher — for nearly a year after Lucifer was born.
You became the perfect mother.
Amelia turned into his shield.
Sarah started giving him attention too.
So while you were busy worshipping your son… Christopher began to rot inside.
Your neglect toward him turned into pure hatred for Lucifer.
In his mind, Lucifer was the thief who stole his wife, his daughters, his fetish.
After a year… Christopher started coming to me every day.
Fucked me raw.
For another full year.
At first he only complained — how you spent every second with Lucifer, how his daughters only had eyes for their little brother.
Then the complaints turned to jealousy.
"How can lucifer have my wife and daughters all for himself?
A son should bring joy… but Lucifer brought me pain."
Months passed.
By the end of the second year… only poison remained in Christopher's heart for that boy.
But he couldn't touch him — because you were always there.
That's when he came to me with the barter.
We were broke.
He offered money.
In exchange… my holes.
Whenever he wanted.
However he wanted.
And I was bound by sacred barter — couldn't tell anyone except Derek.
So Derek and Christopher spent every night plotting how to get rid of your son… while you never left his side.
Christopher's first goal: create distance.
When Lucifer turned two… Christopher handed him over to the maids completely.
Took you, Amelia, and Sarah on endless tours.
When you returned… you never checked on him again.
What you never knew: every single meal you and your daughters ate… was laced with Neredima.
One purpose: make you indifferent.
Long-term use: erase loved ones from memory.
Lucifer ended up alone in the servants' quarters.
You four stayed in the main house.
You didn't feel his absence.
Christopher succeeded.
Years passed.
You never reached for him.
Just asked maids once in a while: "Is Lucifer okay?"
They said yes.
You moved on.
But deep down… he was still there.
So Christopher increased the doses.
Eventually… some days you forgot you even had a son.
Whenever Lucifer tried to approach you… the drug — or the memory fog — made you brush him off.
But in the servants' quarters… Wisteria cared for him from age two.
Loved him like a mother.
Like a sister.
You must have noticed… months ago Lucifer changed.
Became bolder.
Before that, in your memory, he was quiet, invisible.
It wasn't always like that.
The moment you all started ignoring him… his hunger for your love exploded.
What we lack… we crave most.
Every time he came near you… he tried so hard to get your attention.
You barely noticed him — remembered he existed, but nothing more.
Christopher saw it.
Saw how desperately he needed you.
So he turned you into a weapon.
He sourced mild poisons from the Church of Toxara — slow, agonizing death.
His private chef prepared them.
Christopher delivered every dish himself, smiling, saying:
"Your mother made this with all her heart… just for you."
And Lucifer — starving for any proof you loved him — ate it all.
Twice a week.
High fevers that never broke.
Vomiting blood and pieces of his organs.
Legs paralyzed for days.
He endured it all thinking:
"Maybe she doesn't know how to cook… but she made this for me.
How could I disrespect her love?"
He never complained.
Mia… maybe you don't remember… but I was there.
There was a village gathering at your house.
That frail, poisoned, sick little Lucifer — maybe 9 or 10 — was there too.
Everyone was enjoying.
You were on your knees, giving someone a blowjob.
Amelia was probably in her room getting fucked by some baron's son.
Sarah was with Christopher.
Lucifer — burning with fever, hands blue-green from poison — came to you for help.
The servants were busy.
Jeff and Ruby were away — family gathering.
So he came to you.
Do you know what you did?
I remember it clear as day.
His little hands were greenish-blue — poison aftermath.
He reached for you.
You got annoyed.
Then you beat him.
In front of the entire village.
You beat your own son until he was half-dead.
Maybe the Neredima fog lifted for a second — you wept when you saw what you'd done.
But you were the one who nearly killed him.
From that day… he stopped talking.
To you.
To Amelia.
Sarah was a distant star he could never reach.
For the next eight years… the village library was his only home.
With Lucifer out of sight… Christopher slowly stopped the Neredima doses.
From then until the lake incident with Jacob… I don't think you, Amelia, or Sarah spoke to him for even a full hour in eight years.
When he fell unconscious… Christopher had stopped drugging you years earlier.
Maybe that's why, when you heard, something woke up inside you.
You fought to save him.
But imagine if the drug had still been in your system…
He would have died quietly.
Unnamed.
Forgotten.
And you wouldn't even have remembered he existed."
Marina's voice softened — almost pitying.
"So in short… your love and care for Lucifer… created Christopher's hatred for him.
Nothing more."