His Forbidden Debt

Chapter Eight — The Thread Unraveling

She wasn't given a chance to explain, they didn't let her plead her case. Tristan’s men dragged her along.

“Take her to the dungeon. Twenty lashes. Make sure she feels every one.”

Camren heard this, he looked away immediately. He wanted to oppose but he knows the kind of person Tristan is—it would be unwise to oppose his decisions in the presence of his subordinates.

Isadora smiled—this would teach Lilith a lesson. She knew her plan would work, but didn't expect it to work this marvelously.

The guards didn’t hesitate. One yanked me forward by the arm, the other trailing behind like a shadow.

As the guards pulled her along, Tristan walked back to his chamber with Camren closely behind him— Isadora also left the scene, the fun was over.

My knees buckled from the soreness of the last beating. I didn’t resist. What was the point? I haven't even recovered from what Isadora did to me.

I screamed, I yelled but it was totally ignored. We reached the stone stairwell—we were getting closer, each step down pulled me deeper into the darkness, a darkness that enveloped me almost immediately—the kind that I feared would be permanent.

The cold welcomed me like an old friend—the familiarity.

They didn’t tie me to the post. They didn’t need to. I stood there, barely, arms limp, head low. I didn’t ask for mercy—because I knew none would come.

The first whip cracked across my back, and the pain wasn’t new, just more familiar.

By the third, my lips were bloodied from biting down my sobs.

By the fifth, I whispered a prayer I never thought I’d say.

“God, take me now. Let this be the last time I breathe.”

But God didn't take her life.

And the guards didn’t stop either.

------

Camren stormed into Isadora’s room without knocking, rage simmering just beneath his calm.

Isadora sat by her dressing table, brushing her hair as if nothing terrible had just happened—it seemed like a normal day to her.

She looked up in the mirror and sighed—the disrespect of barging into my room, it was gradually turning into a habit.

"You're in a foul mood," she murmured. "Did your little friend cry too much?"

"You’re twisted," Camren snapped.

Isadora slowly turned, her features composed but smug. "Careful, Camren. Tristan doesn’t like people raising their voices in my quarters."

"I know what you did."

She paused.

"You set her up. I don’t know how yet, but I know you framed Lilith."

"That's a dangerous accusation," she said coolly. "Especially without proof."

"You’ve always wanted her gone. Ever since she got here."

"What makes you think that?," Isadora asked, rising. "You’re emotional. You think with your heart and not your brain— That girl is trouble, and you’re just another fool caught in her web."

Camren stepped closer. “You think this ends with her lying in a dungeon, bloodied and humiliated? It won’t. I’ll find out exactly what you did, and when I do…”

She smiled. “You’ll what, Camren? Tell Tristan? He already chose, he wouldn't even believe you.”

“No,” Camren said coldly. “You manipulated him into reacting without thinking. But once he sees it clearly, he’ll come for you.”

He turned without waiting for a response, slamming the door behind him.

---

Tristan looked up from a tumbler of scotch when Camren entered.

“I’m not here to fight,” Camren said. “But you need to hear me.”

Tristan said nothing.

“That punishment was wrong.”

Tristan’s expression hardened. “She stole confidential documents.”

“You think a girl who barely knows her way around the estate suddenly became a spy?” Camren challenged. “Come on, Tristan. It doesn’t add up, it doesn't even make any sense.”

“I don’t make accusations lightly.”

“No, but you let Isadora whisper in your ear too easily—you let her influence your decisions, she played you like a puppet.”

“Camren, although you're my friend. I won't take such words from you, no one ‘plays’ me, I do the manipulating and the influencing. I passed my judgement with evidence—do you have any proof to say otherwise?” Tristan mood changed

“I'm sorry and I don't have proof. Yet,” Camren apologised and admitted. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to trust what doesn’t sit right. And none of this sits right.”

Silence stretched.

“She didn’t even scream,” Camren said finally. “She just… took it. Like someone used to being blamed for things she didn’t do.”

Tristan drained his glass and looked away.

Camren stepped back. “You didn’t give her a chance to speak. You should’ve.”

“Camren, if you don't have anything else to say, you may leave”. Tristan said, still looking away.

Then he left, the echo of his words lingering like smoke in the dimly lit room.

---

The servant’s quarters were silent, save for the muffled sobs coming from the farthest corner.

Lilith lay curled on the thin mattress, every inch of her body aching with fire. The lashes had broken skin.

She couldn't lie down on her back, the pain was too much—she laid on her bed with her stomach.

Her back felt like it was being pressed with hot irons each time she shifted. But the pain wasn’t the worst part—it was the silence. The knowing. The disbelief in Tristan’s eyes. The way he hadn’t even looked at her, not really.

She had screamed until her throat was raw. Now, all that was left were tears and prayers. Quiet, desperate prayers—the prayers remained the same.

"Let it end. Please. Let it end."

She didn’t know to whom she whispered. God. Death. Anyone who might listen. Anyone who wasn't too busy to take her life.

Her wrists trembled as she clutched the edge of the blanket, biting down hard to stifle another sob.

Then she heard the door open.

Footsteps. She flinched instinctively, her heart slamming against her ribs. Another guard? Another punishment?

But the voice was soft. Familiar.

“Lilith…”

She turned, slowly, her vision blurry. Camren.

He closed the door behind him and crossed to her side in two long strides, kneeling beside her bed.

“Oh God…”

His voice cracked as he reached out, then hesitated, hands trembling above her wounded back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t move. Just stared at him, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

“I should’ve stopped it,” he said. “I tried, I swear to you. But I was too late.”

“You didn’t believe me either,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible. “None of you did, you just stood there and said nothing.”

His jaw clenched. “I believed you, I never doubted you. I just didn’t fight hard enough.”

She looked away.

“Lilith, listen to me.” He gently placed a hand on the edge of the mattress, still afraid to touch her. “I know you’re hurting. But you have to hold on. I confronted Isadora. She didn’t admit anything—but she slipped up. Something’s not right, and I swear to you, I’ll find out what she did.”

Lilith gave a bitter, broken laugh. “Even if you do… what difference will it make?”

Camren’s gaze burned with conviction. “Tristan thinks he knows everything, but he doesn’t. I won’t stop until I clear your name. I promise you that.”

A knock came at the door.

They both turned.

A timid maid stepped inside, wide-eyed. Her voice trembled. “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about Lady Isadora.”

Camren stood slowly, exchanging a look with Lilith.

Something had just shifted.