Chapter Three:- The devil you made

Blackthorne Mansion

The sleek black car slid to a stop at the towering gates of Blackthorne Mansion. When the door opened, Evelyn stepped out like she owned the world. A short black dress clung to her curves, her cleavage unapologetically on display. One hand scrolled lazily through her phone while the other brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Her lips—painted the shade of fresh blood—curved into a slow smile as the headline flashed across her screen:

“Evelyn Lockwood crashes Damien Blackthorne’s party with a marriage contract.”

“Beautiful chaos,” she murmured, pleased with herself.

Two guards moved forward at once, lifting her designer luggage with practiced obedience. Evelyn barely spared them a glance. She strolled past the grand golden doors she once called home. The walls gleamed with the same gaudy trims, the antique chandelier dripped with light exactly as before, and the familiar scent of roses greeted her from the entrance.

“Tsk. Same old, boring taste,” she muttered, the disdain curling off her tongue.

She turned sharply to the man escorting her. “Tell me—where is Damien Blackthorne? Shouldn’t a husband come out to welcome his bride?”

Before the man could speak, a voice rolled out from behind her.

“Here I am.”

Evelyn spun, and her breath hitched despite herself.

Damien stood halfway down the staircase, shirt half-open, abs cut from stone, shorts hanging low on his hips. A glass of red swirled lazily in his hand, as if time itself bent to his rhythm.

For one dangerous second, Evelyn’s pulse betrayed her. Time had done nothing but sharpen him. If anything, he was worse now—more devastating. But she blinked away the thought before it rooted.

Her lips twisted into a dangerous smile. She strutted toward him, hips swaying with defiance.

Damien didn’t move. He just watched, calm and unreadable, as if she were some storm he’d already measured.

Evelyn reached him and placed her palm boldly on his abs, her eyes locked on his.

“Hello, husband,” she purred. Her nails traced a lazy line down his torso. “Would this still be here when I’m done destroying you? What a pity, such a perfect body wasted on a cold-blooded man. Enjoy it while it lasts, darling.”

Damien said nothing. He sipped his wine like her words were smoke. Then, without looking at her, he addressed the man holding her bags.

“Take them to the room prepared for her.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, already moving.

But Evelyn’s voice sliced the air. “No. Those bags are going into your room.” Her finger trailed up his jawline, daring him. “Or would you like to argue about that, darling?”

The guard faltered, waiting.

Damien gave a small nod, eyes still unreadable. “As she wishes.”

Evelyn smirked in triumph and turned, sauntering deeper into the mansion.

“You know,” she called over her shoulder, “if you had pretended to be this agreeable back then, you wouldn’t have done what you did five years ago.”

Damien’s gaze followed her retreating figure. His lips curved in a shadow of something that wasn’t quite a smile, and he tipped his glass back in silence.

---

Later, Damien sat in the living room, circling the rim of his glass with one finger. Colt entered quietly, his tone low.

“Should Blake return or stay where he is?”

Damien didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still fixed on the corridor Evelyn had disappeared into.

Finally, his voice came, cool and precise. “Let him remain where he is. She’s not safe.”

Colt blinked, startled. “Boss, you mean…”

“Not here,” Damien cut him off.

Colt gave a stiff nod. “The news is spreading fast. The board demands you address it. Shall I prepare a press conference?”

“No.” Damien’s tone sliced the air. “Don’t bother. I’m not clearing anything up.”

“But sir, the company—”

“The company will be fine.” Damien leaned back, an unreadable smile tugging at his lips, his gaze flicking once more toward the hallway where Evelyn had vanished.

Colt studied him. Something was off. For five years, Damien never missed a day at the office. Now he sat here, relaxed, drinking, smiling softly while his empire smoldered in rumors.

Colt couldn’t remember the last time he saw his boss smile. Not like this.

Something had shifted.

---

His suspicion was interrupted when Evelyn reappeared—this time in a bikini that left little to the imagination.

The room stilled.

Damien’s gaze swept over her, then cut coldly to Colt.

“You can leave now,” Damien said, setting his glass down.

Colt hesitated at the door when Evelyn giggled. “Where are you going, hot guy? Come play with me.”

Colt froze, but didn’t turn.

“I said you may leave, Colt.” Damien’s tone darkened.

Colt obeyed at once, shutting the door behind him.

Damien’s jaw tightened as his eyes burned into Evelyn. “You really think this is you now? Parading like some—”

“Some what?” Evelyn snapped, venom dripping. “Say it.”

His voice dropped low, heat edging his words. “You’ve changed, Evie. What happened to the woman I knew?”

Her laugh cracked sharp, bitter as glass underfoot. “Oh please. Don’t stand there acting like you cared. You didn’t know me then. You sure as hell don’t know me now.”

“I knew you better than anyone.”

“Don’t.” She raised her hand like a blade. “You only knew the version of me you could control. You stripped me, broke me, and left me to rot. Did you care for one second what happened after I walked out that door five years ago?”

“I do care!” he shot back.

“Don’t you dare.” Her eyes blazed. “You don’t get to play savior now. You used to like me sweet, weak, silent. A woman you could crush and still call yours. That’s what you loved five years ago, wasn’t it?”

Damien’s jaw flexed. “That’s not true—”

Damien’s jaw clenched.

"I don’t know what you’re saying..."

“You think I don’t have questions?” he hissed. “You think I don’t deserve answers after what you...”

“Deserve?” she snapped, stepping closer, her tone icy.

“You think I don’t deserve to be furious?” Her voice cut like steel. “Where was this fire back then when you destroyed me and called it love?”

Her voice lowered, colder than before. “Do you even know what I became after I left? After everything you did? Or were you too busy climbing your empire on broken bones and forgotten promises?”

“You left,” he muttered.

“Because you ruined me!” Her shout tore through the room. “You broke me into pieces and walked away guiltless. Like I was supposed to smile and thank you.”

His jaw tensed. “I didn’t...”

"Cut it out, Damien. I did what I had to do. If you want details, imagine the worst” she snapped, eyes glinting with something darker than rage.

Silence pressed heavy.

She stepped closer, her voice a low, lethal whisper. “And now? I’m not here for reconciliation. Not here for love. I’m here for one reason only. And you, Damien Blackthorne, are standing right in the middle of it.”

His gaze hardened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Evelyn slipped something from her bag and tossed it onto the table—the contract he’d signed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, venom in every word. “You didn’t even read it, did you? Typical Damien. Always signing lives away like they’re nothing.”

His eyes dropped, confusion flickering across his face.

“Go ahead.” Her smile turned wicked. “Read the clauses. The ones you missed because you thought you were too powerful to bother with the fine print.”

Her voice dropped, every syllable soaked in fire.

“This time, Damien… I wrote the rules. And you just signed your soul to the devil you made.”