Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 361: Keep her in the Ice room

Bang!

Bang!

Tiffany’s pain receptors, several times more sensitive than an average person, sent waves of agony coursing through her body, pushing her to the brink of endurance.

Curled tightly into a ball, she clung to one thought like a lifeline: Camilla trusts me completely.

If I say what these people want me to say, she might really walk into their trap.

She could never do that.

Never!

Jaina’s displeasure deepened as she watched Tiffany endure the beating without so much as a whimper.

"Still playing tough, huh?"

She signaled the man to stop, her gaze darkening as she stared at Tiffany.

A cold, calculating smile curled her lips.

"How does that feel?"

This woman had ruined the boss’s plans and even leaked information to San Francisco.

There was no way the boss would let her off the hook.

Right now, the only thing left to do was to make this wretched woman suffer—thoroughly.

Tiffany drew a sharp breath, forcing herself to stay conscious.

She lifted her gaze to Jaina, her lips straining into a faint, defiant curve.

Her voice was weak but unwavering.

"Not bad.

Why don’t you come try it yourself?"

The words were a clear challenge, a taunt aimed straight at Jaina.

"You bitch!

Still got the nerve to talk back?"

Jaina’s temper flared instantly, her voice dripping with venom.

"Fine.

You asked for this."

"Go on, hit me harder!"

At the command, the man’s blows grew fiercer.

Blood trickled from Tiffany’s ears and nose, her face drained of all color.

She looked seconds away from collapsing, her body barely holding on.

Jaina knew she should call it off—but the fury burning in her chest kept her silent.

She just sat on the sofa, legs crossed, watching coldly as Tiffany suffered.

Then, just as Tiffany coughed up another mouthful of blood, her movements sluggish and weak, footsteps echoed from outside the door.

This time, she didn’t even have the strength to lift her head.

"Stop."

A calm, composed voice cut through the room.

At that moment, a tall, imposing figure strode through the doorway.

His handsome face was etched with icy displeasure.

Antonio.

At the sound of that familiar voice, Tiffany’s slightly reddened eyes flickered, her gaze brimming with cold fury.

"Boss."

The man who had been rough with Tiffany immediately halted his actions, bowing his head deferentially toward Antonio.

"Sir—"

Jaina startled, scrambling up from his seat and stepping aside to make way for the newcomer.

Antonio stopped right in front of Jaina.

His eyes narrowed as he took in Tiffany’s condition, his expression darkening.

"Who gave you permission to lay a hand on her?"

Though his tone remained calm, the suppressed rage beneath was unmistakable.

Jaina flinched.

"Sir, I was only trying to help you."

"Help me?"

Antonio’s narrow eyes narrowed dangerously as he raised his hand and delivered a stinging slap.

*Crack.*

The sharp sound echoed conspicuously through the spacious room.

"Jaina" was sent sprawling to the floor, her fair cheek swelling rapidly into an angry red.

Dazed, she clutched her face, her vision swimming.

Trembling, she looked up at Antonio with wide, fearful eyes.

"Talk," Antonio demanded, his voice icy.

"What exactly did you just do?"

"Sir, this woman—she—" Jaina stammered, her voice shaking as she recounted how Tiffany had tricked her into calling Calvin and revealing that he was the one who sent them"

"She’s too cunning! I couldn’t take it anymore—that’s why I ordered someone to teach her a lesson!"

*Antonio?*

Both Calvin and Camilla were far too sharp.

With just that name, they’d immediately suspect him.

"You *idiot*!"

Antonio’s eyes burned with even greater fury as he seized Jaina by the throat and delivered a vicious kick to her abdomen.

Thud!

The sickening sound of impact echoed through the air.

"Aaah—" An excruciating, bone-deep pain exploded through Jaina’s body, as if her internal organs had been shattered.

Bright crimson blood trickled from the corner of her lips, staining her clothes crimson.

Her face contorted in agony as she gazed up at Antonio, her eyes brimming with desperate pleading.

"I... I was wrong, sir—"

Antonio ignored her completely.

Thud.

Thud.

His rage showed no signs of abating, his brutal assault continuing relentlessly.

Jaina coughed up increasing amounts of blood, her breathing growing faint and labored within moments.

The scene was one of utter brutality.

"Lock her in the ice room," he commanded coldly.

"Let her reflect on her mistakes properly." Antonio usually exuded a gentle aura when composed.

But now, his sudden outburst revealed a terrifyingly dark and violent side, chilling to the bone.

"Yes," he hissed.

Everyone present froze under his menacing presence, the air turning icy.

Tiffany was no exception—the image of his warm, handsome face in her mind shattered completely.

"Sir—"

Jaina stared at Antonio’s handsome face, her eyes brimming with terror and despair.

The cold room was essentially a freezer, its temperature plunging dozens of degrees below zero.

Anyone sent inside would freeze to death in no time.

She didn’t want to die.

"Sir, I only wanted to help you. I know I was wrong—I swear I’ve learned my lesson.

Please, I beg you, spare me..."

"One more word," Antonio said, his voice icy, not even sparing her a glance.

His chiseled features were devoid of warmth as his thin lips parted.

"Cut out her tongue."

"Yes, sir."

His subordinate responded immediately.

Having served Antonio for years, Jaina knew he never made empty threats.

A violent shudder ran through her body, and she clamped her mouth shut, too terrified to utter another sound as she was dragged away.

The room fell into silence.

"My apologies, Junior Tiffany," Antonio said smoothly.

"It seems I’ve failed to discipline my subordinates properly."

Antonio stepped forward to Tiffany, reaching out to support her.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was exceptionally gentle, his tender expression almost soothing—like a warm spring breeze.

Of course, Tiffany knew better now.

Having learned that he was the mastermind behind everything and having just witnessed his brutality, she wasn’t about to be fooled by his carefully crafted facade.

"Don’t touch me," she murmured, shifting slightly to avoid his outstretched hand.

"You disgust me."

The words weren’t just about his hand—they were about the man himself.

Antonio glanced at the crimson blood staining his fingers, arching a brow as his thin lips curved into a deeper smirk.

"Fair enough.

I suppose I am a bit filthy," he conceded, turning his gaze toward his assistant.

"Are you just going to stand there?

Help Miss Tiffany up."

"Yes, sir."

The assistant stepped forward immediately, gripping Tiffany firmly—half lifting, half dragging her to her feet.

She wanted to resist, but her body had no strength left.

She was roughly deposited onto the seat.

Leaning weakly against the backrest, she struggled to lift her head, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Antonio.

"Antonio," Tiffany said with visible effort, her voice strained, "Camilla and the others will soon find out you’re the mastermind behind all this.

You’ll never achieve what you’re after—so just give it up."

Though the words were few, speaking them drained her. Beads of cold sweat soaked through her clothes, clinging to her skin.

"Such harsh words from my dear junior truly wound me," Antonio replied, settling onto the prearranged sofa with practiced ease.

A worn fountain pen twirled idly between his slender fingers as his lips curled into a slow, calculated smile.

"If I recall correctly, back in our university days, you once told me Camilla and I were a match made in heaven."

"That was before I saw you for what you really are," Tiffany bit her lip, forcing a weak, mocking smirk despite her pallor.

"But Camilla must have seen through you long ago—why else would she have rejected you?"

A strike at the serpent’s weakest spot.

Her words struck directly at Antonio’s deepest insecurity.

The faint amusement in his eyes darkened, his smile thinning into something colder.

"You’ve always blamed your late return for Camilla choosing Mr. Luther instead," Tiffany continued, her voice trembling but resolute as she clenched her fists.

"But the truth is, from the very beginning until now, Camilla has never loved you—not for a single second, not even the slightest bit."

*Never loved you—not for a single second, not even the slightest bit.*

Each syllable was a razor-sharp blade, driving straight into Antonio’s heart.

The pen is still in his hand.

His dark, narrowed eyes locked onto Tiffany, an icy aura radiating from him as the air between them turned frigid.

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