Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Devil’s Den

Mary’s POV

Tonight wasn’t just a dinner, 

it was a test.

The moment I stepped into the De La Cruz world, I knew I wasn’t walking into a simple introduction. I was stepping into a war zone, and I had to be prepared.

My hands trembled slightly as I adjusted my dress, but I forced myself to stay calm. They can smell fear. And I refused to show weakness.

"Oh my God! You are so lucky to be marrying Andrew!" Stella squealed beside me, practically bouncing as she helped me get dressed.

I shot her a sharp glare through the mirror. "Lucky?" I scoffed. "I’m being sold off like a bargaining chip to a self-entitled demon."

She rolled her eyes, undeterred. "Ssshh! The walls have ears." Then she sighed dreamily. "Besides, that self-entitled demon happens to be my dream man."

I turned to her, disgusted. "I have no idea what you see in him."

"If I could switch places with you, I would," she gushed. "Andrew De La Cruz is the definition of power."

"Then by all means, take my place," I muttered under my breath.

Before Stella could respond, my bedroom door opened, and my driver stepped in.

"Ma’am, Mr. De La Cruz is here to pick you up."

I stiffened. He’s here?

"He didn’t tell me he was coming," I murmured, my stomach twisting.

Stella gasped. "Oh my God. He came to pick you up? AHHHH!" She practically melted into the floor.

I ignored her, applied my finishing touches, and headed downstairs.

Andrew was waiting by the car, leaning against the sleek black Rolls-Royce like he owned the night. His navy-blue suit was perfectly tailored, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He looked dangerous, and deadly attractive.

"Shall we?" His voice was low, smooth, calculated.

I hesitated for only a second before stepping into the car.

As the door closed behind me, I let out a slow breath.

This was going to be a long night.

---

The Ride to the Estate

The air inside the car was suffocating.

Outside, the world blurred past in streaks of golden streetlights and shadowed buildings. But inside, the tension was palpable.

Andrew sat beside me, completely at ease, scrolling through his phone as if this was just another business meeting. Meanwhile, my pulse hammered against my ribs.

"Are you always this quiet?" His deep voice broke the silence, laced with amusement.

I turned to him, gripping the hem of my dress. "I just don’t see the point in talking to you."

He smirked. "Oh, but you’ll have to, sweetheart. You’re about to meet my family, and trust me, silence won’t save you."

His words sent a chill down my spine.

I had read about the De La Cruz family. Everyone had.

They weren’t just wealthy businessmen, they were a ruling dynasty of crime. Don Victor De La Cruz controlled half the city, his iron-fisted reign built on blood and fear. If Andrew was arrogant, his father was merciless.

And now, I was walking straight into their den.

The car slowed.

I turned to the window, and my breath hitched.

The De La Cruz estate wasn’t just a mansion, it was a fortress.

Black iron gates loomed high, guarded by men in dark suits, their expressions unreadable. Beyond them, the mansion stood like a monument to power, its grand columns bathed in golden light.

As the gates opened, my stomach knotted.

There was no turning back now.

---

Inside the Lion’s Den

The moment I stepped out of the car, an icy wind sent shivers down my spine, but it was nothing compared to the stares that greeted me.

Inside, the grand foyer was intimidatingly lavish, marble floors gleaned under the chandelier’s glow, the scent of cigars and expensive cologne filling the air. Men in tailored suits and women draped in diamonds moved with effortless entitlement.

And at the center of it all, seated in an extravagant chair like a king on his throne, was Don Victor De La Cruz.

He was a towering man, his presence suffocating. Salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, sharp eyes devoid of warmth. He studied me, smirking as if I were a product, not a person.

"So," he drawled, voice dripping with condescension, "this is the girl?"

Andrew chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Yes, Father. Meet Mary Ezekiel. My fiancée."

A cruel laugh rumbled from the Don’s chest.

"You expect me to believe that this… child is worthy of standing beside a De La Cruz?"

My fists clenched at my sides.

Before I could respond, a cool, sharp voice cut through the air.

"She looks weak."

I turned, and met the icy gaze of Isabella De La Cruz, Andrew’s stepmother.

She was breathtakingly beautiful in an emerald-green gown, her features carved from pure steel. She wasn’t just dangerous, she was deadly.

Andrew smirked, watching the scene unfold like it was entertainment.

Don Victor leaned forward, fingers tapping against the armrest. "Tell me, Mary," he murmured, "do you truly believe you can handle being married to my son? Do you know what it means to be a De La Cruz?"

I refused to cower.

I straightened my shoulders, locking eyes with him.

"I don’t expect to be welcomed with open arms," I said evenly. "But I don’t scare easily."

The room fell silent.

Then, laughter.

Nicholas De La Cruz, Andrew’s younger brother, lounged against the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey. Amusement danced in his emerald eyes.

"I like her," Nicholas grinned. "She’s got fire."

Andrew shot him a look, but Don Victor only hummed in thought.

"Fire can be dangerous," the Don mused. "If not controlled, it burns everything in its path."

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Isabella took a slow sip of wine. "Tell me, Mary," she purred. "Do you love my son?"

I stiffened.

Andrew chuckled beside me. "That’s not necessary, Mother. This is just a business arrangement, after all."

Isabella’s lips curled. "Oh, darling," she whispered, "business or not, marriage is war. And in this family, the weak do not survive."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

This wasn’t just a family dinner.

This was an initiation.

---

Dinner with the Devil

The dining room was just as intimidating as the rest of the house. A long table stretched across the room, silverware gleaming under the golden chandelier.

Nicholas leaned forward, smirking. "Tell me, Mary," he mused, "what made you say yes to my dear brother? His charm? His money? Or was it his irresistible personality?"

Andrew smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I set down my fork, meeting Nicholas’s gaze.

"None of the above," I said coldly. "I didn’t have much of a choice."

The room stilled.

Andrew’s smirk faltered.

Nicholas let out a low whistle. "Well, well. Looks like someone’s not afraid to speak her mind."

Don Victor’s expression darkened. "Careful, girl," he warned. "You’re in my house now."

I didn’t flinch.

Andrew leaned in, his voice dangerously low. "You might want to watch your mouth, sweetheart."

I met his gaze. "And you might want to remember that I’m not one of your toys, Andrew."

The storm was brewing.

And I knew one thing for sure.

If I wanted to survive in this family, I’d have to fight.