Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 425 --

Kaya pressed her fingers to her forehead, slow and hard, as if that alone could stop the headache from splitting her skull open.

Were these idiots even thinking?

Yes—she had ordered them to throw him into the box and leave him there. She owned that. But how was she supposed to know she would collapse for an entire week? That she wouldn’t even wake properly, wouldn’t move, wouldn’t be conscious enough to remember anything?

That part wasn’t planned.

And fine—fine—if someone could remember to give him food and water, then at the very least, someone should have had the sense to look at his condition and think, Maybe this is a problem.

Apparently not.

Kaya glanced back at Liam in the box.

Honestly? She wasn’t that worried.

He was alive. Breathing. Miserable, yes—but alive. The real problem was that the box was inside the house, and the smell was beyond disgusting. That, more than anything, tested her patience.

And yet—this guy?

He didn’t care.

Good.

Very good.

Because now he would speak.

And if he didn’t?

Kaya’s gaze hardened.

She would throw him back into that box and close it again. Let him sit there longer. Let it sink in. Let the fear grow roots. A little PTSD wouldn’t kill him—especially when she had nearly lost her life because of this so-called Mr. Jinx.

She had suffered.

And she still hadn’t shaken off the lingering unease his existence left behind.

Her jaw tightened as another memory surfaced—

The bullet.

Her lovely bullets that she lost because of him. Well, just thinking about it made her want to kill him. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Kaya just sighed, rubbing her face once before turning to look at Sparrow and the others.

"Bathe him. Clean him up." She waved a hand toward the box, disgusted. "And throw that box out."

She had seen worse things—much worse. Bodies torn apart, blood soaked into dirt, people burning alive. But maybe it was because her body was weaker now, or maybe because she’d gotten too comfortable here, too relaxed—whatever the reason, this particular kind of filth made her stomach turn in a way battlefields never did.

Kaya turned and walked back to her room. She didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone, didn’t have the strength to deal with questions or protests or Liam’s stupid face.

As soon as she reached her bed, she collapsed onto it like her bones had given up. The mattress barely cushioned the weight of everything pressing down on her—exhaustion, confusion, the dull ache still sitting in her hips and legs.

She had so many questions.

And she didn’t even know who to ask. Who would answer honestly? Who even understood what she needed to know?

Her eyes drifted shut before she could stop them, and sleep dragged her down fast and heavy.

...

On the other side of the mountain, Veer’s father slammed his fist against the table so hard the wood cracked.

"That bitch!" he shouted, voice shaking with rage. "Did she even wake up yet?"

His hatred for Kaya had reached a new peak—higher, sharper, more bitter than before.

He could not believe it.

That woman. In his son’s house. In his son’s room. Given by his son. His beloved, precious son.

And she dared—dared—to take another man into her bed before the marriage ceremony was even completed.

Yes, it was normal for others. Yes, the culture allowed it. But for him? His son was a precious diamond, pure and rare, deserving of someone who would treasure him above all others.

How dare that woman treat him like he was just one option among many?

Not only that—just thinking about that woman becoming his daughter-in-law made his entire body fill with dread, with disgust so thick he could taste it.

He wanted to chop her down right now. Wanted to drag her out of that cave and make sure she never touched his son again.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

His hands curled into fists, knuckles white, jaw tight enough to ache.

Soon, he told himself.

Soon.

Robert saw the look on his lord’s face and felt his stomach drop.

Veer’s father stood by the window, fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. The air in the room felt heavy, dangerous, like a storm about to break.

"My Lord..." Robert started carefully.

Veer’s father turned. Slowly. His eyes burned with a hatred so raw it made Robert take a step back without meaning to.

"Speak," he said, voice flat and cold.

Robert swallowed hard. "If you want... I have an idea. To get rid of that woman."

Silence.

Veer’s father tilted his head, and for a moment Robert thought he’d made a terrible mistake. Then his lord stepped closer, boots heavy against the stone floor.

"Robert," he said quietly, too quietly, "you better have a ’good’ idea this time." His gaze didn’t blink. "Because if you waste my time again, I won’t just slap you with my slipper." He leaned in. "I’ll cut your fingers off. One by one."

Robert’s throat went dry. He nodded quickly, hands trembling at his sides.

"My Lord," he began, voice shaking but pushing through, "don’t you find it... strange?"

Veer’s father said nothing. Just stared. Waiting.

Robert took a breath and leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "It’s been so long since that woman came here. Months. And we’ve all smelled it—our young tribe leader’s scent on her. Again and again."

He paused, letting the implication hang.

"So why," Robert continued, eyes sharp now, "hasn’t she gotten pregnant?"

Veer’s father blinked once. His expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind his eyes.

"So what?" he said coldly. "What does it matter if she’s pregnant or not?" His lip curled in disgust. "You think I want to raise that bitch’s son?"

"No, no!" Robert shook his head quickly. "That’s not what I mean, my lord. Just—think about it."

He gestured as he spoke, building the argument carefully. "Our vulture tribe’s fertility rate is one of the highest in the region. Everyone knows that. Our women get pregnant fast. Our bloodlines are strong."