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Chapter 63 - The Illusion of More
Last Updated:
2025-04-12 18:48:47
Tabitha #game #jealousy #marriage
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The Devil's Game Chapter 138 - Falling Apart
The days bled together after that.Ayra barely remembered how she left the study. She recalled the low creak of the leather folder closing, the shadow of her own reflection in the dark glass of the display case behind Lucian’s desk, and the dull pounding of her heart in her ears. But nothing else. Not the walk back to her room. Not the taste of her dinner. Not even the sound of Lucian calling her name, sometime much later, through the closed door.What she did remember—what she couldn’t forget—was the face.Isa.The girl in the photos. Always the same girl.Always the same subtle tilt of the head. The curve of the jawline that matched hers just slightly too well. Not identical—but similar enough that Ayra had spent the entire night crawling through her memories trying to remember if she’d ever been her. If somehow she’d been drugged, positioned, photographed like a porcelain thing.But she hadn’t.She would’ve remembered.This girl had never been her.But she looked like her.And Luci
The Devil's Game Chapter 137 - Shadows of a Ghost
The afternoon wore a strange silence, the kind that seeped into walls and pressed against the windows like breathless anticipation. The sky outside the villa had dulled to an overcast gray, and the scent of a slow-approaching rain mingled with the stillness of the halls. Ayra wandered those halls without purpose, feeling strangely unsettled—like something invisible was pulling her forward.Elsewhere in the villa, footsteps moved with precision.Rhea, head of the villa’s security team, tapped in a quiet override code and stepped into his private study. The room welcomed her with hushed luxury—glass shelves housing rare volumes, dark wood, and the faint scent of Lucian’s cologne lingering in the air like a phantom presence. She knew the layout by heart, knew where his files were encrypted, where he hid things even from his most trusted aides.But today, she didn’t need to pry.She simply removed a document from her coat—an envelope, thick and carefully aged—and placed it gently on Lucia
The Devil's Game Chapter 136 - Threading the Needle
The cathedral was silent now.The banquet tables were stripped, the candles long extinguished. Only the faintest scent of wine and wax remained, drifting like ghosts in the cavernous hush. The guests had all gone, retreating to their respective corners of the estate or cities or foreign embassies. The danger, of course, hadn’t left with them.Lucian knew that. And so did Ayra.The very next morning, he began her training.Not with fanfare, nor with ceremony. Simply with a curt knock on her door and a short statement:“Meet me in the west wing study. Ten minutes. Wear shoes you can run in.”And then he was gone.---At first, Ayra thought it would be purely physical training—self-defense drills, evasive maneuvers, disarming techniques. But when she arrived at the study, Lucian was already seated at a broad table, not a sparring mat.The surface was scattered with items: coded ledgers, aged letters in ciphers, an antique revolver, and what looked like a dossier filled with black-and-whit
The Devil's Game Chapter 135 - Cold Steel and Warm Eyes
The hum of conversation had dulled, like music winding down on a warped record.Servants moved silently around the long cathedral-turned-dining hall, clearing plates of forgotten desserts and refilling crystal goblets with vintage wine no one was really drinking anymore. The flames in the chandeliers flickered low now, casting long shadows on the towering stone walls that had once housed prayers, not politics.The holiday dinner was drawing to a close.Ayra sat quietly at Lucian’s right, spine straight, gaze composed. She’d stopped trying to decipher the subtext of every phrase being traded across the table. By now, she understood: everything was subtext. Every toast, every compliment, every absent smile was a dagger waiting to be unsheathed.Across the table, Uncle Marquin set down his fork with deliberate grace.He was older than most present—white-haired, silver-bearded, and with a face that had grown more charming than handsome over time. A glass of red shimmered in his hand like b
The Devil's Game Chapter 134 - The Knife Behind the Smile
The grand dining hall had not been used in over a year.By late afternoon, servants were already swarming, polishing the cutlery, replacing the winter floral arrangements with something more dramatic—deep red calla lilies and bone-white roses arranged like something ceremonial. Tall candles were positioned between crystal wine glasses, their wicks waiting to be lit, and the chandeliers glittered overhead like a thousand watching eyes.Ayra had seen nothing like it before. The opulence wasn’t just for aesthetics—it was a power play. A performance. Every polished inch screamed: we still control the stage.And tonight, Lucian’s family was the audience.She’d prepared carefully. A gown of deep emerald green, sleeveless with a square neckline that made her shoulders look more regal than fragile. Her hair was twisted up at the back, a few strands left artfully loose. No necklace—she didn’t need one. The knife strapped at her thigh was enough of an accessory.Lucian hadn’t said much that day
The Devil's Game Chapter 133 - Let Me Learn
The lamps had been dimmed. Shadows stretched like silk across the stone walls of the corridor, broken only by the pale flicker of firelight bleeding under Lucian’s study door.Ayra hesitated before knocking.She hadn’t planned to seek him out tonight. But sleep wouldn’t come. Not after everything—after Elias’s laughter echoing through the halls, after that moment on the rug when Lucian had smiled, not coolly or calculated, but like someone who forgot himself for a second.She pushed the door open gently.Lucian was slouched in the chair near the fire. Not his desk, not the leather-backed throne he used for meetings. The armchair. One leg stretched out, head tilted back slightly, a tumbler of amber liquor resting half-forgotten in one hand.He didn’t hear her at first.His coat lay discarded over the back of another chair. His tie hung loose around his collar. One hand pressed against the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut.Ayra leaned against the doorway.“You look like someone dropped
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