Semua Bab Ten Sinful Commandments : Bab 101 - Bab 110

Lydia didn’t believe in forgiveness anymore.Not the kind they taught in soft voices with folded hands and tear-soaked apologies. Not the kind that begged for understanding while the body still bore the evidence of someone else’s power.No.She believed in balance now.In cause and consequence. In the exquisite justice of pain that fits desire. Of confession answered by correction. Of sin paid for in sweat, gasps, and surrender.And Damian?He was overdue.Not for torment.For truth.She stood in front of the mirror in her quarters, fingers slowly dragging the black ribbon around her throat loose. The same one he once used to blindfold her. Now it was hers.Her symbol.Her weapon.Her invitation.She tied it around her wrist like a mark—a signal—then opened the door to the corridor and waited.Ten seconds passed.Fifteen.She didn’t move.Didn’t call him.She didn’t need to.Because when she heard his footsteps coming—slow, deliberate, cautious—she knew.He’d seen it.The ribbon.He r

Lydia didn’t sleep.She let Damian fall into a slow, dreamless doze beside her, one hand resting on her thigh like he was grounding himself, silently begging her not to vanish.But she stayed awake.Eyes half-lidded.Mind alive.Her body was satisfied, but her soul? Aroused.She traced idle fingers along his jaw, studying the rise and fall of his chest. He looked younger like this. Less calculated. Less… curated.And yet still hers.He’d given her his confession.He’d taken his punishment.And now she owned the part of him no one had ever touched.The part that wanted to obey.She rose from the couch without a word.His fingers slid off her thigh in his sleep, and she didn’t look back.There was something else calling to her now.Something deeper than pain or power.Something buried.She walked through the East Wing nude, barefoot, unafraid—like the house itself recognized her now. The walls didn’t creak in protest. The lights didn’t flicker.Everything held its breath.Waiting.At th

The candle had burned low beside them.Its wax curled like a closing eye, as if the room itself had finally stopped watching. The silence wasn’t sacred now.It was final.Lydia shifted slowly, her body aching in that beautiful, soul-deep way—the kind that meant something real had happened. Not just to her body. But to the thing inside it.She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as Damian traced slow, reverent circles on her stomach.He hadn’t spoken since she told him she didn’t regret the kneeling.But she could feel the words building in him.And when they finally came, they didn’t sound like a man seeking forgiveness.They sounded like a man who wanted to start over.“What happens now?” he asked.Lydia turned to him.“Now,” she said quietly, “we see who we are when no one is watching.”He swallowed.“And if I’m not the man you need me to be?”She reached out and cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing the place he used to hide behind.“You already are.”They didn’t speak for a while

The reel in Lydia’s arms felt heavier with every step.Not because of its weight.But because of what it meant.It wasn’t just evidence.It wasn’t just memory.It was the last thread tying her to Lilith.And she was ready to burn it.She moved deeper into the underground wing—past every hall that once threatened her. Past the velvet. Past the mirrored rooms. Past the ghosts of moans and scars and rules carved in lust.Until she reached it.The final door.Unlike the others, it was white.Unassuming.Ordinary.Except for the keypad beside it—and a small scanner that blinked red.She lifted the reel.Slid the embedded chip from its core and touched it to the scanner.The red light blinked.Then turned green.Click.The door unlatched.“Lydia.”She froze.Damian’s voice.She turned slowly.He stood at the end of the hall, breathless, eyes locked on the reel in her hands.“I was looking for you,” he said, his voice tight.She said nothing.Not yet.His eyes dropped to the door behind her.

If you kneel, kneel for love—or not at all. That was the last commandment. The one Lilith could never write. But Lydia had gone further. She didn’t just kneel. She made others do it. She didn’t just survive. She rewrote survival. And now, it was time. Not to escape. But to leave a legacy. She stood at the top of the staircase, overlooking the halls that once imprisoned her—barefoot, bruised, dripping in the heat of her final high. Damian lay beneath her somewhere still catching his breath, skin marked by her, mouth stained from the worship she allowed. But Lydia? She had already moved past him. Past the guilt. Past the hunger. Straight into the world she would now claim for herself. In the Red Room—rebuilt, repurposed—she laid out the commandments one by one on the altar of velvet. Not printed. Not digital. Etched by hand. In her ink. In her blood. In her story. Was The TEN SINFUL COMMANDMENTS And then She added the last one. One Lilith never had the stre