"My bride, Beatrice," he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed malice. "This is a gift for you, my love."
He extended his hand, and in it lay a small, delicate heart. It was still beating, its faint pulsations visible through the thin, translucent skin.
Beatrice recoiled in horror, her eyes widening with terror. "What is this? What have you done?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
The Devil chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why, my dear, it's the heart of your beloved Edward," he explained, savoring every word.
"He was such a despicable man, and he hurt you so much. I thought you might appreciate a little... revenge."
Beatrice could feel bile rising in her throat, the horror and disgust consuming her. She stared down at the pulsating heart, unable to look away.
"You! Who do you think I am? If I wanted to do it this way, I would have done it a long time ago!" she screamed in frustration at the Devil.
