Semua Bab The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his expression almost mocking. “A fair question, little mouse. Life would be dreadfully boring if I skipped the theatrics every time. There are moments when it’s necessary to walk among the shadows, to breathe in the grit of this city. Skipping steps makes you lose touch. Besides…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “I enjoy the convoy rides. It’s the perfect time to plan moves, strategize... or just reflect.” “But there are limits,” he added, his tone dropping, the shift in his demeanor palpable. “Limits?” Dallion nodded, his expression growing serious. “The Time required to satisfy my need in settling accounts is immense. Blood is the fuel for such a gift. And let’s just say…” He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming as his voice dropped to a whisper, “…finding the right accounts I need from my debtors isn’

They left after Sherryl had settled scores with her foster family, in the car Dallion kept on staring at Sherryl something she found too odd. She knew Dallion loved looking at her face but not to the extreme he was looking at her at the moment. "Do you think I did something bad to them? Like I'm being unfilial to them?" She brushed her brows before looking at Dallion who was engrossed in looking at her. " I think I just got back at them for what they did to me, but I feel like a fool by stooping to their level." Sherryl didn't get any response from Dallion , not like she was expecting any answers from him anyway, she silently moved closer to the window and focused on the scenery outside, when they arrived at the mansion Dallion took her hand into his and led her. Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. as he looked at Sherryl closely, it seemed like they had arrived. This was another territory Sherryl had no idea of in the vast mansion of the Cross family. "True enou

In the early hours of the evening, where the city’s lights flickered against the thick clouds looming above, Sherryl Rain found herself seated on a sleek, black leather chair in Dallion Cross’s personal chamber—a space far removed from the glamour of his grand estate. This room, lined with shadowed corners and polished steel, exuded control and mystery, much like the man who ruled it. Sherryl, now accustomed to the unconventional life she had been drawn into, was working on her assigned tasks. A modern tablet lay before her, the glow illuminating her delicate features as she practiced the art of precision—handwriting exercises. Although this seemed an unusual task in the digital age, Dallion valued the elegance of penmanship. To him, elegance equaled discipline. Her focus wavered when a droplet of crimson ink fell from the quill-like stylus she held, staining the parchment she used to replicate letters. Frustrated but not wanting to anger Dallion, she carefully tilted the paper to s

The air crackled with unspoken tension. Sherryl's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. Dallion's gaze, intense and unwavering, held her captive. The flickering candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the dangerous glint in his crimson eyes. She swallowed hard, the silk ribbon at her wrists feeling suddenly constricting. "I… I don't know," she finally whispered, the words barely audible. "I didn't see anyone. It happened so fast. One minute I was looking out at the sea, the next… I was falling." A shiver ran down her spine, the memory of the icy water and the terrifying helplessness still vivid. Dallion's expression didn't change. He remained kneeling before her, the candle held steady in his hand. "Think, Sherryl," he urged, his voice low and persuasive. "Someone in this house wanted you gone. Someone dared to lay a hand on what belongs to me." The possessive edge in his voice sent a shiver down

"I think she poisoned it. The girl you bought as a slave wants to kill you." Rose’s voice was steady, her eyes locked on Dallion with unwavering confidence.The room fell into a tense silence. Even the house staff who had been thinking about passing through the hall chose to turn around, unwilling to get caught in the suffocating atmosphere.Rose, however, stood firm, waiting for Dallion’s response.Then, unexpectedly, a low chuckle escaped him. It started slow, like a private joke only he understood, then grew, his amusement filling the space like a quiet storm. Rose, as she was called in this house—didn’t look the least bit surprised. Instead, her sharp gaze flicked between her siblings, anticipation humming beneath her cool exterior.Dallion finally spoke, his voice smooth yet laced with an edge. "Tell me, Rose, was this your idea? Did you ask her to poison me?"Rose's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Are you serio