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074: gag reflex
Last Updated:
2025-11-26 18:14:57
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Falling into the devil's bed 083: the end
Penelope’s POVSix months later. “Lena! Do we have a reply from the catering company?”“Yes! I spoke with the representative. You won’t believe it, but he bought a painting from us!”“Excellent! Rocky, do we have maximum security?”“Affirmative, Miss. nothing will go wrong tonight, I promise it.”Of course nothing will go wrong. That’s without a doubt. It also doesn’t hurt to be totally prepared. I glance around the bustling lower floor of my grandly revamped gallery, and a mixture of pride and sadness blooms in my heart. Sera being here would have made everything complete. Even after six months, she still has me blocked. I talk to Mordecai sometimes, he says she’s doing well. Apparently she’s doing some cybersecurity work for him and it’s taking up all her time. I’ll appreciate it if she at least came out to see me whenever I visited. At the same time, I understand her actions. Inhaling, a smile makes its way to my face. After six months, I brought SB Tragos back on its feet.
Falling into the devil's bed 082: explaining
Penelope’s POV I have no idea where to find Vincent. Rushing out of my office, I flag down a cab, my mind racing a million miles per second. The image of him leaving, no trace on anger on his features, fills me with dread. Everything runs off in my head. Charles. Vincent. Eugene. Halsteads. Where is Vincent likely to be now? A cab pulls up and I jump in, giving him the address of the Halstead family house. Athena calls again, already on the way. I call Rhys. My voice trembles as I relay the information to him. “You did the right thing calling, he says, his normally calm voice perturbed. “Where are you? Steer clear of Vincent for now. I’ll call you soon.”“Okay,” I lie through my front teeth. Steer clear? As if. Minutes later, the cab pulls up in front of the Halstead estate. I race to the gates. To my surprise, it’s wide open. I nearly trip over myself making it to the front door. The inside of the house is dark, the kind of heavy and oppressive darkness that doesn’t promise
Falling into the devil's bed 081: murder
Penelope's POVI should have done better than running out on Vincent like that. But I knew that if I stayed there for even two more seconds, I would have said and done things I'd regret. Right now, I'm sitting in my dark office, the only light coming from my open laptop in front of me. I spin my chair, my eyes blurring in and out of focus, but ultimately cutting back to the screen. Gwen. I've heard that name a lot of times. I just never knew about the "Halstead" attached to it. Gwen Halstead. Everything now makes perfect sense. Verdants are far from stupid people. One thing my father always told me was "keep receipts." He bought my first tape recorder disgusted as a cute hairpin when I was 14. He taught me that in the world of business, receipts were essential.Sure he's a shitty father, but that lesson stuck with me for life. I kept records, recordings, receipts. Written down. Backed up. Backed up again. That didn't change when I met Charles. It didn't change when I married
Falling into the devil's bed 080: recollections
Penelope's POV: It's been a week and I still haven't reached Sera. I've gone to Rhys' place more times than I can count, and each time I get stopped at the gates by his men. Right now, I'm backing away as his massive Dobermans growl at me, snapping their fangs. If Sera would only give me five minutes, just five measly minutes to explain what happened. It's not like I planned to keep her in the dark forever about my identity as Thorne. "You should leave now." One of Rhys' guards says, exasperation in his tone. "The dogs won't harm you, but you should leave now before things get worse. " "I need to see Sera." I insist, glancing warily between the dogs and his face. "Just tell her I'm here, please." "She knows." My heart cracks in two. She knows. And she still won't see me. I glance at the mansion tucked behind the gates, desperately wishing I'd see even a glimpse of my best friend. Taking my phone out, I call her. It doesn't even go through, confirming that I am still
Falling into the devil's bed 079: pomegranate and threats
Mordecai's POV I underestimated Penelope Verdant. And almost lost my nephew as a result. "You...came..." "You're my nephew, however silly you act." I reply, reminding myself that Bastian is prone to foolish acts, and it's a miracle Penelope's bullet missed his heart. He's a foolish boy. He definitely gets his impulsiveness from his father. Bastian forces a rasping chuckle. It sounds like a faulty kettle. The boy is pale, lips turning blue and eyes drained of colour. However, he is alive. That is all that matters. Damien will skin me if anything happens to his beloved kids who I'm supposed to protect. "Who was that woman? The one that shot me?" Bastian turns, his watery eyes meeting mine. "That man...was my brother, right?" "Who told you that?" My voice comes out harsher than I intended. "He is, isn't he?" I don't give him a reply. Over the years I've convinced myself that if I don't think about it, about Vincent's real parentage, it's not real. I rise to my feet. "Onc
Falling into the devil's bed 078: menace
Sera's POV:"Why haven't you eaten anything?" I throw a cold look at the man. The ropes wound tightly around my wrists hurt, the rough material digging into my skin with each micro movement I make. Laid out in front of me is a table full of dishes, steaming hot, and various bottles of wine. "I would eat, if only my hands weren't tied behind my fucking back." I spit back. I doubt I can even stomach anything right now. But if I can grab a wine bottle and break it on his head, then I can leave this place. "Oh!" He exclaims, his expression looking genuinely shocked. "I almost forgot that, my apologies."Is this guy for real? "Were you dropped on your head as a kid or what?" I asked, scoffing."How will I know? I don't remember my childhood." He said, tapping his chin, his eyes as if deep in thought. "I do remember my parents fighting over every little thing. Like what I should have for dinner, or what country I should be raised in, all of that.""I don't care about your backstory. C
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