LOGINShare
Chapter 9: The devil's ledger
publish date:
2026-03-01 14:36:20The drive from the hospital to the De Luca estate was a blur of rain and silence. I sat in the back of the sleek black sedan, my hands folded tightly in my lap to stop them from shaking. Beside me, Julian was a shadow, his face illuminated only by the passing streetlights. He wasn't looking at me; he was scrolling through his tablet, likely calculating the cost of my soul.
The car pulled through a set of massive iron gates that looked like the teeth of a beast. The manor was a sprawling, gothic monstrosity of stone and ivy, standing tall against the stormy sky. It didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress.
"Get out," Julian said, his voice cold as he stepped out of the car.
I followed him into the grand foyer. The floors were marble, the ceilings were vaulted, and the air smelled of beeswax and old money. A housekeeper in a stiff uniform appeared, taking Julian’s coat without a word.
"Show her to the West Wing," Julian commanded, heading toward a set of double oak doors. "And tell the kitchen she will be taking her meals in my study from now on."
"Julian, wait!" I called out, my voice echoing in the vast space.
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"My son... you said he’d be moved here. When?"
"He’s already in the medical wing," Julian said, finally turning. His eyes were like flint. "He has a dedicated nurse and a sterile environment. You will be allowed to see him for one hour every morning. Provided you fulfill your duties."
"My duties?" I walked toward him, the clicking of my heels on the marble sounding like a countdown. "You haven't told me what I’m actually doing here, Julian. I’m not a nurse. I’m not a maid."
Julian took a slow, predatory step toward me. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb resting just under my ear. The heat of his palm made my skin crawl and tingle at the same time.
"You are a 'De Luca Asset,' Elara," he whispered, leaning down so his breath fanned across my cheek. "My father is hosting a gala in three days. He wants to marry me off to a woman whose family can help him expand the syndicate. I want them to stop looking. You will be my 'infatuation.' You will wear the jewels I give you, you will smile when I touch you, and you will convince this city that I am a man capable of love."
"You want me to be your fake fiancée?" I breathed, shock rippling through me.
"I want you to be my shield," Julian corrected. "In exchange, Leo stays in that medical wing. He gets the surgeries, the therapy, and the life you could never give him on a waitress's salary."
"And when the gala is over? When they believe you?"
Julian’s grip tightened, just a fraction. A dark, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. "Then we see if I’m finished with you. Now, go. You’re covered in the filth of the warehouse, and I prefer my investments to be clean."
He let go of me as if I were nothing more than a used tool. I stood there, humiliated and heartbroken, as he disappeared into his study.
The housekeeper, a stern woman named Martha, gestured toward the stairs. "This way, Miss. I’ve laid out a dress for dinner. Master Julian doesn't like to be kept waiting."
As I climbed the stairs, I looked back at the front door. It was locked. The windows were barred. I had saved my son from a medical death, only to walk into a golden cage. I wasn't Elara the mother anymore. I was Elara the Debt.
And as I looked at the dark wood of the West Wing door, I realized the hardest part wasn't going to be the fake smiles or the gala. It was going to be the fact that every time Julian touched me to "prove" his love to the world, I was starting to forget that he was the monster who had put me here and that terrifies me .
Latest chapter
Healing with the monster Chapter 155: The Living Archive
The morning mist over Sector 01 was soft and golden, dissolving as the sun crested the copper roofs of the university library. The courtyard was no longer a place of quiet defiance or frantic printing; it had become an open-air conservatory of thought. Long pine tables lined the colonnade, laden with freshly bound volumes, wooden typesetting trays, and bowls of dark vegetable ink.Julian sat on the edge of the fountain terrace, a small wooden lathe resting between his knees. He was turning fresh beechwood rollers for the desktop presses designed by the engineering students. His movements were rhythmic and precise, shrugging off the heavy, frantic speed of our old underground escapes for the calm craftsmanship of a master artisan."The archivists from the western provinces arrived at dawn, Elara," Julian said, pausing to blow a fine curl of wood shavings off the roller's smooth axle. His face was bright, his hands steady. "They aren't asking for copies of our old manuscripts anymore
Healing with the monster Chapter 154 : The Unwritten Horizon
The late afternoon breeze swept through the quadrangle, carrying the deep, earthy fragrance of rain-washed soil and the crisp, clean scent of fresh ink. Shadows stretched long across the pale gold stone, blurring the boundary between the once-feared Administrative Spire and the lively, open courtyard below.Julian was sitting on a low wooden crate, carefully wiping down the iron frame of his portable typewriter with an oiled rag. The metallic clack-clack that had defined so many tense nights had given way to a quieter, rhythmic hum as three student-run mimeograph machines spun in unison nearby, producing hundreds of fresh broadsheets for the evening trade."The evening mail coaches leaving for the western provinces are carrying three full crates of the broadsheet edition," Julian said, looking up with a faint, peaceful smile. He set the rag aside, his eyes bright with an unburdened clarity. "No false names, no coded headers, and no hidden compartments in the floorboards. The postma
Healing with the monster Chapter 153: The New Cadence
The afternoon sun sat warm and quiet over the central square, turning the gray stone of the quadrangle into a pale gold sheet. The frantic energy of the past few days—the rallies, the pasted flyers, the standoff at the spire—had settled into a rhythmic, steady pulse. The open square was no longer a battleground; it was a workshop.Julian sat under the shade of the tall oak tree, a set of fine jeweler's files spread across a canvas cloth on his lap. He was working on the metal type-cast blocks of a brand-new tabletop press, smoothing down the edges of the lead letters so each character would strike the paper with absolute precision. His face was relaxed, his hands moving with an easy, unhurried mastery."The new printing guilds in Sector 03 sent over their first independent broadsheet this morning, Elara," Julian said, holding up a small lead letter E to inspect it against the sunlight. "They aren't just printing political statements or trial updates anymore. They’ve started printin
Healing with the monster Chapter 152: The Open Ground
The morning sun rose higher, casting long, clean light across the central square of Sector 01. The cold air of the past five years seemed to evaporate under the heat of the afternoon, leaving behind a clear blue sky that stretched over the open quadrangle. For the first time, the heavy oak doors of the Administrative Spire were not just unlocked—they had been completely unhinged by the logistics volunteers, laid flat on saw horses in the courtyard, and repurposed into long tables for distribution.Julian sat at the end of one of those heavy wooden tables, a small brass screwdriver in hand as he helped a young student adjust the margin stops on an old Underwood standard. Around him, three more mechanical typewriters were set up, their keybars clicking in a steady, synchronized chorus that sounded like a dry, energetic rain against paper."We aren't just distributing the manuscript anymore, Elara," Julian said, his eyes scanning a newly inked copy of Chapter 151 as he handed it to a
Healing with the monster Chapter 151: The Morning After
The dust of yesterday’s confrontation had settled into the cold stone floor of the quadrangle, but the air inside Sector 01 was charged with a light, vibrating hum. The heavy brass doors of the Administrative Spire stood wide open, propped back with wooden blocks. Sunlight streamed into the vaulted atrium where, five years ago, my name had been quietly scrubbed from the rolls. Today, the space was filled with students sitting on the marble steps, passing around physical proofs and hand-copied pages of the gate log.Julian sat on a low bench near the fountain, his tool kit open on the stone beside him. For the first time in months, he wasn't frantically adjusting tension springs or cleaning clogged ink ribbons under the threat of a midnight raid. He was carefully greasing the carriage gears of his portable machine, his hands steady and relaxed as the metal parts moved with a smooth, whisper-quiet glide."The board hasn't issued a single statement since the prosecutor’s office served
Healing with the monster Chapter 150: The Shattered Glass
The morning sun hit the gilded glass windows of the Administrative Spire at a harsh, revealing angle, reflecting the sea of white and carbon flyers pasted across the quadrangle below. The quiet in the plaza had given way to the low, hum of a collective realization—hundreds of students, lecturers, and staff standing shoulder-to-shoulder, quietly passing around the duplicated gate logs.Inside the spire’s grand foyer, the tall bronze-framed glass doors remained bolted from the inside. Behind them, two campus security chiefs stood nervously, radios glued to their ears as they watched the Dean's black sedan remain trapped at the perimeter gate, surrounded by a peaceful, immovable crowd of students reading Chapter 149 aloud.Julian sat on the edge of the central stone fountain, his fingers flying across the keys of his portable mechanical typewriter, which he had set up on a wooden packing crate. The rapid clack-clack-clack of the iron type-bars striking the ink ribbon echoed like rhyth
Healing with the monster Chapter 1: The glass of Judas
The bass was a physical weight. It throbbed in the floorboards of the off-campus apartment, vibrating through the soles of my sneakers and settling in my ribs. I hated it."Elara, stop looking at your phone! Your parents aren't going to call fire and brimstone down on you before midnight," Emma sho
Healing with the monster Chapter 8: The price of a life
The sterile white lights of the St. Jude’s private wing felt like needles against my eyes. After the darkness of the warehouse, the brightness was blinding, a cruel reminder that the world hadn't stopped spinning just because my heart was breaking."Clear!"The muffled shout from behind the double
Healing with the monster Chapter 7: The pulse of a De luca
The medical room was nothing more than a concrete box tucked into the furthest corner of the warehouse. It smelled of ozone, old grease, and the sharp, clinical sting of antiseptic that felt out of place in such a filthy setting.My hands were still bound with zip-ties, the plastic biting into my s
Healing with the monster Chapter 6: The glass fortress
The grand entrance hall of the De Luca estate felt less like a home and more like a mausoleum. The black marble floors were polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the jagged lightning that streaked across the sky outside.Josh’s grip on my arm was like a brand, cold and unyielding. He pulled me do
You may also like
Wet Desires: {A Steamy Collection}
The Book Magician539.3K viewsAccidentally Yours
Shayla HArt1.9M viewsCEO Husband's Crazy Love For His Little Wife
TSI1.5M viewsI Fell For The Boy His Daddy Was A Bonus
LiLhyz951.3K viewsPregnant With The Alpha's Forbidden Child
Leach108 viewsThe Billionaire's One Year Wife
Buxel48 viewsDirty Daddy
S. Ley 69 viewsThe colour of healing: when the scars learn to shine
A.S Author51 views
