Sherry hurriedly dashed to the bathroom again, hoping she had escaped Dallion's watchful eye. She wondered if he had been awake the whole time. But then, his voice cut through her thoughts, “I give you a bed that’s custom-made, unrivaled in these parts of Bone lake city, and you say it was just okay?” Sherry quietly thanked her stars that he wasn’t speaking of what she feared. Maybe he had been asleep at the time.
“A comfortable bed doesn’t assure anyone a good sleep. Sometimes a hard floor with freedom brings more satisfaction than the confinement of any room, no matter how luxurious the bed.” Sherry wasn’t trying to provoke him, but he had told her to speak freely what was on her mind the night before. Taking a small risk, she spoke a little bolder than usual this morning. Dallion’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he observed her defiance. This little mouse was still trying to run, unaware that her fate was already sealed. He’d let her believe there was hope, for now. But soon, she'd learn it wasn’t the cat who had caught the mouse—it was a wolf. And wolves didn’t toy with their prey; they tore it apart. “You never know what might crawl across the floor—some venomous creature ready to bite and infect you. There’s a reason why some people are moved from one lifestyle to another,” he replied, his words laced with an edge that matched her own. She had a tongue on her, that much was clear, and it only made her more intriguing. Sherry had no witty comeback to his insect analogy. She doubted he was talking about actual bugs. His words struck a little too close to home—reminding her of her foster aunt, uncle, and the people who had sold her into captivity, just like poisonous insects creeping into her life. Dallion didn’t miss a beat. "You’re safe here. We're going out today." “Out?” Sherry echoed, not expecting the change of plan. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” His tone was cold, reminding her who held control here. “No, I would love to accompany you, Dallion.” She lowered her head, her inner fire momentarily dimmed. Dallion chuckled softly. “Sherry...what if I told you I knew exactly what you were thinking?” Her face paled. What if he could read her mind? Was she doomed? But before she could panic, he laughed. “So easy to fool. Go get ready; we’re leaving after breakfast.” He threw back the covers, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal his sharply defined chest, causing Sherry to avert her gaze. She bolted for the door, but his voice stopped her mid-step. “Where do you think you’re going?” He had pulled the curtain back, revealing his bare torso, his pants hanging low on his hips. Sherry's heart skipped as she forced herself to look away from his sculpted body. “I-I was going to clean up.” “You didn’t roll in the mud after yesterday’s shower. Washing your face should suffice.” Sherry sighed under her breath. “What was that?” His sharp gaze cut through her. “Nothing, Dallion.” She bit her tongue. She couldn’t afford to say anything that might anger him. Sherry stood silently against the wall, waiting as he took his time in the bathroom. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reappeared. She quickly darted into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and wiped it with a towel that had already been used. When she returned, Dallion stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. “Do you know how to tie one of these?” he asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Sherry shook her head. She had never learned how. Coming from a seven years life where luxuries like ties were unnecessary, she hadn’t been exposed to such things. “Come here. Let me show you.” Hesitantly, Sherry walked towards him. Standing close, she realized how much smaller she was compared to him. His imposing figure was even more striking up close. He lifted the tie and began explaining how to loop it around, his hands moving fluidly. “Think you can manage?” Sherry nodded, committing his instructions to memory. Dallion loosened the tie and draped it back around his neck, waiting. With careful hands, she repeated his steps, fumbling only once before getting it right. “Simple girl,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes as he straightened his tie. His words held a strange mix of teasing and something darker. She didn’t understand why he called her that, but she didn’t question him either. Sherry followed Dallion out of the room, down to the dining hall, where Nickison and the rest of the Cross family were already seated. She took her place quietly on the cold floor, a few steps away from the table. Despite her efforts to remain unnoticed, eyes followed her. Grace, seated across the table, smiled faintly at her but looked apologetic when her gaze shifted. On the other hand, Rose, the youngest sibling, glared at Sherry with thinly veiled contempt. Sherry couldn’t understand what she had done to anger her, but she did her best to ignore the bratty behavior. Grace broke the silence. “Father, I’ll be picking up the invitations tomorrow. I want to make sure they’re exactly as planned.” “I’ll come with you,” Rose chimed in, eager to join. “Why not?” their father, head of the Cross empire, agreed. “The more hands to help, the better. I’ve already arranged for additional staff to assist Nickison.” “More staff?” Lady Flora, Dallion’s stepmother, questioned. “Nickison is more than capable of managing things without bringing in strangers who might embarrass us.” Her husband gave her a calm smile. “The new staff are trusted by the Gray's family. They’ll help ease the load.” As they spoke, Sherry realized an event was being planned, something important. She remained focused on her meal but couldn’t help overhearing. They were talking about a birthday party, but not for anyone living—it was for Dallion’s late mother. And on top of all that, the new staff, was going to be brought in by the Gray's family, she remembered Ada Gray the girl she'd tampered with her dress, the same girl Dallion had slept with and left her unconscious. She made a quick mental note, to stay away from her as much as possible, she couldn't risk angering her again, because Dallion wouldn't let her go again, he had been lenient with the punishment he'd given her the other day.After Dallion had left the room, Sherryl Rain finally stepped out of the bathroom. Looking around, her eyes fell on the fireplace where she added a log of wood and then walked over to stand at the window that faced the other side of the city’s forest edge. The dense greenery stretched across the land, hiding secrets behind its lush calm—relaxing to the eye, yet unnerving to the heart. With Grace, who had taught her the basics—reading, writing, manners—being too busy lately, Sherryl had been stuck in the penthouse suite with nowhere else to go when Dallion wasn’t around. She didn’t get to step outside the Cross empire’s compound unless it was with him. And if she did, it was only under his direct watch. Since the time one of the maids was murdered, the rest of the staff had started to avoid her. Their conversations were short, stiff, and perhaps only the butler, Nickson, was the one who dared to exchange more than a few words with her. The incident made her question what exact
When an unintended sigh slipped past her lips, it only seemed to fuel the fire already burning in Dallion’s touch. His grip on her tightened, his heart beating steadily, his eyes alive with something dark and dangerous. His control was slipping, and he knew it. Without another word, his teeth extended, sharp and eager. "I need a taste," he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. Before Sherryl could react, Dallion sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Her skin was —warm, rich, intoxicating, it was sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. It made him wonder if it was because of who she was, something about her making it more potent, more addictive. It was like drinking from something rare, something otherworldly. Dallion never cared for attachments, never let himself be bound to anyone. He had always been clear about that. Women came and went, serving a purpose but never staying long enough to matter. But ever since he had laid eyes on her, everything else had become meaningle
Sherryl stared at him. Was she imagining things, or was Dallion actually jealous? The thought alone sent an odd, fluttery feeling through her stomach, one she didn’t quite understand. "I don’t share, little mouse," Dallion said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Did you really think I’d be fine with you standing on a stage, under bright lights, with hundreds of eyes fixated on you?" His tone was calm, but the possessiveness in it was unmistakable. He leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Do you want to know when and how I fell for you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I think it’s time I told you properly." Sherryl’s heart pounded. "I think it’s okay if you don’t," she blurted out, already anticipating the embarrassment that would follow. Dallion clicked his tongue. As she raised her hands to push him away, he caught them effortlessly, pinning them against the bed with a smirk.
Sherryl, still quietly eating her apples, wished she could finish quickly and leave as well. Every meal in this house felt like a battlefield, tension thick in the air. She continued eating as discreetly as possible. Then, his father spoke. "You should stop spoiling the girl, Dallion. Your sister is right. We don’t want you being manipulated." His cold gaze flickered toward Sherryl, and she felt a lump form in her throat. "There have been plenty of cases where a simple girl like this has twisted her owner into doing unspeakable things—even wiping out their own family just at her word. And we both know you’ve already had your fair share of experience with betrayal." Dallion’s smirk didn’t falter. "Don’t worry, Father. I care about my family too much to kill them. Well… at least you and Grace. The rest? I can’t make any promises." His eyes drifted toward his younger half-sister. Rose’s expression darkened,
Here’s the revised version with the name changes.In the grand estate of the Cross family, the evening air was thick with the promise of an impending storm. The sky remained overcast, and a biting wind whispered through the halls. With winter creeping closer, the temperature had plummeted to an unforgiving low. If not for the warmth provided by the mansion’s insulated walls and flickering fireplaces, those unaccustomed to such cold would have perished.For the staff working in the Cross estate, survival was a luxury they didn’t take for granted. The grand halls and well-kept quarters provided a stark contrast to the bleak streets they might have otherwise called home.As the evening descended into dinner time, Dallion Cross and Sherryl Rain made their way into the dining room. Plates were brought out by silent staff, each movement practiced and precise. Sherryl, however, found herself staring at what was placed before her—a thick slab of raw meat, still red wit
Dallion studied her intently, his sharp eyes reading every flicker of doubt on her face. But he still answered, "You said you walked there because riots had blocked the main road. You took a different route and eventually found him. Later, you mentioned bringing him back, but by then, it was too late. Your mother’s condition had already worsened. What’s going on, Sherryl? Speak." His voice was firm, demanding. There was an unsettling confusion in Sherryl’s eyes as she tried to piece together the past. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, "If my mom could still be alive… does that mean she would allow me to look for him?" Dallion exhaled deeply, his expression unreadable. "Yes."He didn't want to give her false hopes, he knew her father left them and he was sure her mother wouldn't have allowed her to look for him. Sherryl nodded slowly, but she wasn’t convinced. If her father had left only to return years later, what