Reality snapped back into focus for Celine as the sounds of kissing from down the hall finally faded.

She turned, finding only Isabella left in the corridor.

Just as Celine was about to slip away, Isabella strolled over, a smug look on her face.

“See that?” Isabella sneered. “How’s it feel to watch your hubby smooching another chick? If I were you, I’d have ditched that clingy act ages ago.”

Celine, however, remained unfazed by her supposed rival’s taunts.

She whispered softly, “Just a little longer.”

Isabella, not quite catching it, frowned, about to demand what she’d said. But then, a ruckus erupted from the banquet hall.

Glass shattered, bottles crashed.

“Stop fighting, Dante!”

Hearing his name, both women’s expressions shifted. They bolted towards the sound.

The banquet hall was a wreck. Dante was like a man possessed, pinning Isabella’s male companion to the floor and laying into him. The sheer dark energy radiating from him kept everyone else at bay.

Terrified he’d get seriously hurt, Celine didn’t hesitate. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Stop, please!”

In the fray, chairs grazed her legs and waist.

But Celine held on tight. Only then did a few other men finally pull the other guy away.

“Dante, are you okay?”

She frantically checked him, only to be shoved away with brutal force.

“Get lost!”

Dante stormed out, his face a thundercloud.

Not long after, bodyguards from the Williams family escorted both him and Celine back to the family estate.

Dante’s grandfather had heard about the night’s fiasco and was absolutely fuming.

He’d hoped Dante would help squash the rumors, not trash the whole party.

The old man was livid, threatening to enforce family discipline.

“Kneel!”

Dante was dragged to the family chapel. His grandfather, whip in hand, bellowed, “Today, I’ll teach you a lesson on behalf of your late parents!”

The whip cracked against the floor.

Dante didn’t even flinch, showing zero fear.

Enraged, the old man raised the whip to strike.

But then, he was stopped.

Celine had appeared from nowhere, throwing herself in front of Dante, shielding him.

“Grandfather, please, don’t!”

“Step aside!” the old man roared. “Today, family rules will be enforced!”

But Celine, usually so compliant, stood her ground. Protecting Dante, she declared, “If you must punish someone, punish me. It’s my fault for not managing my husband. I deserve it.”

Dante’s face was icy. “Celine, get lost. I don’t need you…”

She cut him off. “Whether it’s family discipline or kneeling penance, I’ll take it.”

It was all she could do for Dante.

Before the ten-year mark, all the suffering should be hers.

Only then could she leave with a clear conscience.

Seeing her resolve, the old man’s fury intensified. He muttered “Fine” several times.

“Then I’ll grant your wish.”

He ordered the bodyguards to take Dante away and lock him in solitary.

As for Celine, she knelt on the ground, taking thirty-three lashes in his place.

This time, the old man showed no mercy; each strike was fueled by pure rage.

Celine was whipped until blood covered her. Yet, she never cried out for mercy. With every lash, she repeated her plea:

“Please, Grandfather, forgive Dante.”

By the time the thirty-three lashes ended, her face was completely ashen.

“Have you thought this through? You still want to bear his punishment?”

Celine nodded weakly. “I do so willingly.”

The old man stared at her, exasperated and furious, before finally leaving the chapel, leaving her alone to kneel.

Her body was a mess of welts, the blood soaking the prayer cushion beneath her.

But Celine endured, kneeling through the entire night until her vision blurred.

She bit her lip hard, fighting to stay conscious.

Just hold on a little longer, Celine. Just a few more days.