CHAPTER 10:The Devil’s Contract

ISABELLA

The wardrobe stood like a silent judge, tall and dark, holding the next slice of humiliation Damian had prepared for me.

My fingers hovered before pulling the door open.

Inside, the outfit waited bold, obscene. A blood-red silk thong. A diamond-studded choker with a tag that glittered under the light. Matching black stilettos with needle-thin heels.

Not clothes.

A costume. A brand.

A mark of ownership.

I swallowed hard. My fingers trembled as I picked up the thong, the silk sliding like water between my fingers. I hated how beautiful it looked. How expensive. How seductive. Like it was meant to distract from what it truly was another chain around my neck.

I grabbed a bra. One of many folded inside the wardrobe drawers. Lacy. Black. I slid it on, defiant, even if it felt hollow.

Let him punish me again. At least it would be my choice.

As I turned back, a note fluttered from a hanger above.

"Put this on."

Below it, a sheer black lace gown, practically transparent in the light, hung like a ghost waiting to be worn.

My jaw clenched. How far would this devil go to strip me of every ounce of control?

I dressed. Slowly. Each piece another concession. Another war lost.

And then, heels clicking like gunshots across the floor, I walked toward the dining hall toward him.

The double doors groaned open on rusted hinges, their sound crawling up my spine.

Inside, golden chandeliers bathed the room in soft, deceptive light. A long, gleaming mahogany table stretched out like a throne’s corridor. Silver platters shimmered with untouched food steaming roasts, sugared fruits, rich sauces laid out like a feast for a queen. Or a prisoner.

And at the very end, he sat.

Damian.

His head bowed over his phone, fingers scrolling, face unreadable in the glow. He didn’t even glance up.

But I knew he felt me.

The moment I stepped in, I felt the air shift, as if the walls had exhaled.

Then, slowly, his eyes lifted.

And locked on mine.

That was all it took.

My breath stilled. My pulse stuttered.

His stare was sharp enough to pin me in place, cold enough to leech the heat from my bones. I stood there, stiff and barely breathing, bracing for a blow I couldn’t see yet.

But it didn’t come.

Instead his mouth tilted into a slow, deliberate smile.

Not warmth.

Satisfaction.

“Come here, little princess,” he said, voice smooth, like velvet hiding thorns. He placed his phone down, one hand rising lazily to pat the chair beside him.

My legs hesitated. The heels he’d picked for me turned every step into punishment, but the dread pressing into my chest was heavier.

Each click of my shoes sounded louder in the silence.

When I finally sank into the seat beside him, the scent of his cologne slid over me expensive, clean… dangerous.

He didn’t look at me.

Just pulled open a drawer and placed a folder on the table, sliding it toward me with one finger.

“Sign this.”

I stared at it. My hands stayed in my lap.

“What is it?” My voice felt smaller here. He didn’t answer.

I reached out, slowly, and opened it.

My breath caught.

Pages of dense black text legal chains dressed in elegant fonts. But the meaning screamed at me.

A contract.

Of ownership. Submission. Silence.

My name would bind me to him. His property. His plaything. No escape.

“No,” I said, voice rising as I pushed back from the table. “I won’t sign this. You’re out of your mind.”

He looked at me then, as if just noticing I’d spoken.

A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “I could force you, Isa,” he said, quietly. “Easily.”

He leaned forward.

“But I want you to choose it.”

His voice was soft.

But his eyes?

They burned.

“You call that fair?” I spat. “You drag me here, tear apart my life, humiliate me and now you want me to choose it?”

His smile didn’t move. “You’ll do as I say.”

A thread of ice slithered down my spine. His voice had lost its smoothness. The steel beneath it was showing now.

“Why?” I breathed. “Why didn’t you just kill me like you killed my brother? My father?”

That stopped him.

He rose.

His chair slid back with a soft scrape against the polished floor, and he moved toward me, slow and controlled. Every step made the space around me shrink.

He reached out gently fingers threading through my hair.

My scalp tingled beneath his touch.

I wanted to recoil.

Instead… I froze.

He leaned in, whisper brushing my ear. “Because you’re mine,” he said. “And mine alone.”

I jerked back. “I’m not yours,” I snapped.

He tilted his head, like he was considering something. “It’s not yours to decide.”

He walked back to his seat and poured himself a glass of wine.

Then, almost as an afterthought: “Don’t you want to know why I killed them?”

My breath hitched.

I blinked.

He smiled at my silence.

“I’ll tell you,” he said. “When you sign.”

My throat closed. Rage bubbled beneath my skin, but curiosity curled inside me like smoke.

He was using it my need for answers as a leash.

And I was already choking on it.

My hand moved.

The pen felt heavier than it should’ve.

With fingers that barely felt like mine, I signed. Angry, trembling, desperate.

I shoved the paper back at him.

“There,” I hissed. “Happy now?”

He sipped his wine, eyes never leaving mine.

“Your brother killed my father,” he said.

The room tilted.

“He was my brother, too. I took him in. I trusted him. He betrayed me.”

“No,” I whispered.

“He did. And in our world, betrayal is blood for blood. You should be grateful I let you live.”

I swayed.

It didn’t make sense.

My brother… brutal, yes. But loyal. Deadly, but never to family.

Someone was lying.

Someone was playing a much bigger game.

Before I could speak, his voice shifted again lighter now. Mocking.

“So… didn’t I tell you not to wear a bra?”

The air thinned.

I looked up and his eyes had changed.

No more calm.

No more charm.

Just cold.

He stood again, deliberate, slow.

Each step was a warning.

I backed away before I realized I was moving.

“You’ve signed yourself to me now,” he said, his voice low. “And there are consequences for disobedience.”

His shadow loomed as he closed the distance between us.

My back met the wall.

His body blocked the light.

His eyes burned into mine.

And in that moment, I knew

I’d just sold myself to the devil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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