Chapter 367: Changing Her Tune

A servant entered and reported to Rosemary, “Lady Cristina insists she is Oliver’s concubine.”

Rosemary smiled. “I see. Bring in some little friends to keep her company. Let her play with them for a while, and then ask again. If she gives the same answer, let them continue playing—until she changes her mind.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Isolde, intrigued, asked, “Little friends? You think she’ll be swayed by that?” She had assumed Rosemary would take a more direct approach—perhaps a good scolding or a harsh lesson.

“In front of these ‘little friends,’ I’ve rarely seen anyone stay stubborn for long,” Sadie said with a soft smile, leading Isolde to the breakfast table.

“I thought you’d at least put her through a little suffering,” Isolde remarked.

“I gave Arthur my word that I wouldn’t harm her,” Rosemary said coolly. “I won’t break my promise.”

Sadie chuckled. “Finish your food quickly. Once we’re done, we can go to the room next door and see for ourselves.”

Excited, Isolde hurriedly ate a few pieces of cake and pastries, washing it down with soy milk. “Alright, let’s go watch the show.”

Sadie stood, smoothing her dress. “Mother, we’re off.”

“Go on,” Rosemary yawned, stretching. “I’m exhausted, and it’s freezing. I need to go back and hibernate.”

Isolde giggled. “Your name is Rosemary, but you’re not a snake. You don’t need to hibernate.”

Rosemary shot her a look. “Go on, you chatterbox.”

“My mother hates the cold,” Sadie explained as they walked. “So when we dragged her out of bed last night, it probably lit a fire in her. She won’t let this slide so easily.”

“Oh.” Isolde grinned. This was going to be good.

Cristina had arrived at the Bourbon family estate full of defiance, fully prepared for a beating if necessary—but she had no intention of changing her words. To her surprise, she hadn’t been mistreated at all. Instead, she had been given food, drink, and warm accommodations. That was when she started thinking—perhaps Rosemary didn’t dare harm her after all. After all, she was the daughter of the prestigious Felton family. Would Rosemary really dare lay a hand on her? If they wanted to keep her locked up for a few days, so be it. Hadn’t she already spent enough time confined in the Valen family?

The drug she had used had been strong, yet Oliver had spent the entire night speaking to her without reacting in the slightest. Even when she had thrown herself into his arms, he remained unmoved. Yet William—he had barely exchanged two sentences with her before losing control. That alone showed the difference between the two men. And it crushed her. Oliver was the kind of man who possessed true self-restraint. A man who remained faithful even after marriage, refusing to take a concubine. That man should have been hers. All of it should have been hers. Yet now, it had all been handed over to Isolde.

Cristina curled up on the bed, feeling utterly miserable. The bed was near the window, and a draft seeped through the cracks. She reached out, intending to shut it properly—only to feel something cold and damp beneath her fingertips. Her hand snapped back instantly. She turned, and what she saw nearly made her soul leave her body. There, draped lazily over the windowsill, was a thick, black-patterned python. It was massive—its girth as thick as her arm. It lifted its broad, flat head, flicking its tongue as it watched her.

Cristina let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Someone! There’s a snake! A snake! Help me!” She leaped off the bed, rushing to the door—only to find it firmly locked. She pounded on it frantically. “Let me out! Let me out!”

A calm voice sounded from outside. “Lady Cristina, Lady Rosemary asks again—whose concubine are you?”

Cristina gritted her teeth. So that wretched woman had done this on purpose. She wanted to scare her into submission. Trembling with rage, she hissed, “If she thinks she can frighten me, she’s sorely mistaken! Tell her—I am Oliver’s concubine! I will say the same to anyone who asks!”

“Very well. I will inform Lady Rosemary.” The servant’s footsteps faded away.

Cristina’s legs trembled as she backed into a corner, keeping her eyes locked on the serpent. At least—it wasn’t moving. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. “It’s just a snake. Nothing to be afraid of. Arthur said pythons don’t bite.”

But then, a soft whistling sound echoed from somewhere unseen. And the snake…moved.

Its speed was terrifying—twisting and undulating in smooth, practiced motions, closing the distance in mere moments. Cristina screamed, scrambling onto the table. She grabbed anything within reach—a teacup, a coffee pot—and hurled them at the creature. “Let me out! You call this bravery? Using snakes to scare me? If you have any real courage, just kill me already!” she shrieked.

A voice outside the door spoke again, unbothered. “Lady Cristina, Lady Rosemary asks again—whose concubine are you?”

Cristina was seething. “I AM OLIVER’S CONCUBINE! Tell that wretched woman she can kill me if she dares!”

The voice responded, “Lady Rosemary won’t kill you. She won’t even harm you. You have nothing to fear.”

But just then—another sound. A familiar hiss. Cristina turned in horror as more pythons began sliding in through the open window. Each as thick as her arm, each moving with unhurried menace. Cristina’s knees buckled. Her lips trembled violently, her entire body shaking as the room filled with the slithering creatures. They moved toward her in eerie unison.

“No… No! Stay away!” Cristina sobbed, retching from the overpowering stench of snake musk. Yet strangely, none of them attacked. They surrounded her, forming a writhing, living prison—but they did not strike.

Then, that dreaded voice came again. “Lady Cristina, Lady Rosemary asks again—whose concubine are you?”

“I… I am Oliver’s concubine,” Cristina whispered, though her voice shook uncontrollably. She was clinging to sheer defiance now—refusing to yield out of sheer spite.

But then—the whistling returned. And the snakes moved as one. In an instant, they slithered onto her, coiling around her legs, her waist, her arms—tight enough to send a wave of terror through her, yet without truly constricting.

Cristina let out a bone-chilling scream. “I am William’s concubine! From the very beginning, I have always been William’s concubine!”

A puddle of liquid spread beneath her.

In the neighboring chamber, Isolde and Sadie had been watching the entire ordeal unfold. Isolde’s skin prickled with unease. “Are… are all these snakes Rosemary’s?” That explained a lot. No wonder no one ever dared to cross her. That snake pit—hell, even a grown man would piss himself.

Sadie, however, looked completely unbothered. “Hmph. And here I thought she’d hold out longer. She gave in as soon as they climbed on her.”

Isolde gaped at her. “Does Rosemary… always deal with people like this?”

Sadie shrugged. “Only the particularly stubborn ones.”

“Like who?”

“Like the women who keep trying to seduce my father, despite being warned.”

Isolde gave her a thumbs-up. “Impressive. Very impressive.”