Semua Bab The Devil's Game: Bab 81 - Bab 90

The manor, despite its grandeur and elegance, was beginning to feel more and more like a golden cage. Ayra sat at the edge of the bed in her sun-drenched room, her fingers twitching in frustration. The drapes fluttered with the morning breeze, but the sense of suffocation in her chest did not ease. It had been a week since Lucian last returned. Business, they had told her. Important deals, strategic meetings—always vague.At first, Ayra had welcomed the quiet. It gave her space to think, to breathe. But as the days dragged on, she realized the silence only made Lucian’s absence feel like a phantom presence. Everything still bore his stamp—his rules, his control. It didn’t matter whether he was present or not. His influence was omnipresent, like a shadow that clung to the corners of the house.The first few days, Ayra had tried to distract herself. She walked through the many halls of the estate, admired the art, and even tried reading a book from the library. But her irritation slowl

Two days passed in unbearable silence. Not the kind that wrapped a room in peace, but the sort that prickled Ayra’s skin like invisible nettles. The kind that made the vast hallways of the estate feel like the inside of a cage, draped in silk but hollow at its core.She had tested the water.The first time, she had stolen the maid Rose’s phone, heart thundering in her chest like the muffled rumble of a coming storm. She hadn’t dared do much—just a single email, disguised and vague. She sent it to an old, generic address that used to serve as a drop box during her time around more shadowed circles. No direct names. No confessions. Just the digital equivalent of tossing a coin into a dark well to see if it echoed.But nothing happened.No alarms were triggered. No guards increased around her. Rose hadn’t even mentioned her phone missing until the following morning, assuming she’d misplaced it in the linen closet or left it charging in another wing of the estate.That was her confirmat

The next day began with a hush of sunlight filtering through the tall windows of the manor, casting amber streaks across the polished marble floors. The air was still, a quiet lull hanging over the estate in Lucian’s absence. Ayra moved through the corridors with a purposeful gait, Rose’s phone wrapped carefully in a handkerchief in her pocket. She needed to return it without raising suspicion and her thoughts spun on how best to slip it back into the maid’s room, unnoticed.She turned a corner near the east wing staircase and almost collided with a small figure bouncing out of the playroom.“Whoa—!” she exclaimed.Elias stumbled back, looking up with his usual wide-eyed expression, his mouth hanging open slightly as if caught between laughter and shock.Ayra stared at him, equally startled.“Oh. It’s you,” Elias said simply, brushing his hands down the front of his sweater, which had a small embroidered giraffe in the center. “You scared me.”“You scared me,” Ayra shot back with a f

The night blanketed the estate in layers of velvet silence. A pale moon hung outside Ayra's window, casting elongated silver streaks across the wooden floor. The darkness held its breath, punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall and the occasional hoot of an owl beyond the gardens. Everyone else had gone to sleep, or so she hoped.Ayra sat cross-legged in the walk-in closet of her bedroom, her body tucked between shelves of old gowns and shoeboxes. She clutched the stolen phone—Rose's phone—against her chest like it was made of glass and secrets. Its black screen mirrored her anxious face until a faint buzz lit it up with a single notification.She nearly dropped it.With trembling fingers, she swiped it open and tapped on the message. It was from Sarah.**Sarah:** *"Hey. Got something. Pedro’s not in any hospitals, not on any flights, no police record. Looks like nothing bad happened to him. But people say he vanished. No one’s seen him in two days. Even

The morning sun crawled sluggishly through the frost-lined windows, casting pale gold across the polished floors of the manor. Ayra wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself as she padded down the grand staircase, every footstep echoing far too loudly in the silence. Her body ached from a restless sleep, and her stomach gave a low, impatient growl—she hadn’t eaten much the day before, and today she needed something warm. Something comforting.But comfort, she was learning, was in short supply in Lucian’s house.As she entered the breakfast room, the familiar sight of the long dining table greeted her—glinting crystal glasses, freshly pressed linen, and neatly arranged plates. The usual place settings were all there. Her spot was laid out exactly as it always was, knife gleaming alongside a pristine porcelain cup, the napkin folded into a perfect swan. Everything looked normal.But something was off.There was no steam rising from coffee pots. No scent of toast or eggs or spiced tea