All Chapters of Sold to the Devil : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The University's gate slammed shut behind them with a finality that echoed through Emilia’s chest. Alissa stood beside her in stunned silence, arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw clenched.“I can’t believe this,” Alissa muttered. “I told Mom she was supposed to pay it last week. Last week, Emilia!”Emilia adjusted her backpack, the strap frayed and digging into her shoulder. “Yeah, well... she didn’t.”They’d been pulled out of class right before the lunch bell. The office secretary, who had once liked them, hadn’t even made eye contact when she handed them the suspension slips—due to unpaid fees for the second semester. Two weeks overdue. No payment, no school. That was it.It was a long walk home from school, and every step seemed to stretch their silence tighter. The sun was high, but it didn’t warm the weight on Emilia’s back or the burning lump forming in her throat.“I swear,” Alissa said again, fuming, “she always acts like she has money for her stupid hair appointment

The sky was gray when Emilia returned home.She hadn’t slept much, wandering the quiet backstreets of the city until exhaustion finally dragged her onto a park bench at dawn. The chill air clung to her skin, and her stomach ached from going all night without food, but something heavier sat in her chest—something she couldn’t name.She climbed the familiar steps of their worn-out apartment and hesitated before opening the door. Her fingers curled around the knob.No matter how bad things were, this was still home.At least, it used to be.When she pushed open the door, the apartment was too quiet. No shouting. No TV. No sound of Alissa humming in the bedroom or Vanessa clattering dishes in the kitchen. Just silence and the smell of something burnt from breakfast.She stepped inside slowly, the door creaking shut behind her.Alissa appeared from the hallway, her eyes wide. “You’re back.”“Yeah,” Emilia said. “Guess I am.”They stood in awkward silence for a moment.Then Alissa rushed for

The door closed behind her with a soft click, and Emilia stood in silence, staring around the room she’d been assigned.It was nothing like her cramped, peeling-walled bedroom back home. This was luxury — dark mahogany floors, velvet curtains, a queen-sized bed dressed in charcoal gray sheets. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, crystal glinting softly in the afternoon light. There was even a walk-in closet and a private bathroom with a rainfall shower.But no amount of luxury could mask the truth: she was a prisoner in silk.The woman who’d brought her up — a sharp-featured maid named Mara — stood near the door, arms folded.“Change into something presentable,” she said, her tone clipped. “Mr. Calhoun is expecting you in thirty minutes.”Emilia blinked. “To do what?”“To meet him,” Mara said, narrowing her eyes. “And to understand your place here.”Emilia’s stomach knotted.Her place.Mara motioned to the bed. A black dress lay across it. Long sleeves. Modest neckline. Clean. Elegant

The clock ticked past eleven. Emilia had just finished laying out Dante’s dinner in the formal dining room. She stood at the side, waiting, eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore the way her palms itched and her throat tightened with all the unspoken things clawing to get out.Dante entered the room moments later, silent as ever.He didn’t acknowledge her at first, just swept in like a shadow wrapped in a black button-down, sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly tousled from whatever meeting or deal had come before. He looked like something out of a painting — untouchable and carved from darkness.He sat down at the head of the long table and picked up his fork, pausing to glance at the arrangement.“It’s cold,” he said simply.Emilia clenched her teeth. “It was hot ten minutes ago. You were late.”He looked up at her slowly, brows lifting. “Excuse me?”She swallowed. Too late now.“You’re late,” she said, a little more confidently. “The food’s not magic. It doesn’t stay warm forever.”

The sun poured golden light across the Calhoun estate, stretching long fingers over the lush green lawns and the winding stone paths that curved around hedges and fountains. Emilia stood by the kitchen window, her hands still damp from scrubbing silverware, watching as one of Dante’s black cars disappeared down the long driveway.He was gone.Finally.A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding escaped her lips. The house felt a little lighter, the air less stifling. Without his cold stare lurking in the corners or his cruel punishments dangling over her like a sword, Emilia finally felt like she could… breathe.She moved through the rest of her afternoon chores with a quiet energy—polishing the railings, dusting the library shelves, and watering the orchids in the sunroom. By the time the grandfather clock struck three, her hands were sore and her shoulders tense, but the fire in her chest still crackled with restless curiosity.She needed air. Space. Something real.So when she