All Chapters of Sold to the Devil : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The afternoon sun dipped behind a cluster of heavy gray clouds as Mark trudged up the cracked sidewalk, a thin plastic grocery bag swinging from his right hand. It wasn’t heavy—just bread, some instant noodles, and the cheapest bottle of detergent he could find—but it felt like a burden anyway. Everything had felt like a burden lately. The house. The silence. The guilt.His eyes were cast down, watching the shadows of rustling branches play across the pavement, when a shape up ahead made him slow. A figure stood still beneath the dying sycamore tree that marked the edge of their street. It was a woman—tall, still, and veiled.Mark’s first instinct was to step around her, pretend not to notice, and keep walking. But something about the way she stood—silent and waiting—rooted him to the spot.She wore all black: gloves, boots, a long coat that brushed her ankles, and a veil that covered her face in gossamer shadow. No features visible, not even her eyes. And yet, Mark felt like she was

The ballroom shimmered with golden light, chandeliers casting a warm, flattering glow on every polished surface. Soft classical music played in the background, weaving through laughter and clinking glasses. Servers moved gracefully between the clusters of finely dressed guests, offering trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres.Alissa stood near one of the tall windows, her face half-illuminated by the flickering lights of the chandeliers. She looked radiant in her sea-green dress, the fabric hugging her frame like it had been stitched onto her. Her dark hair was styled into loose waves that framed her face, and her lips were painted in a bold, flattering red.Beside her, Marcello was speaking in low, velvety tones, the kind of voice that seemed to curl around its listener like smoke. His gaze rested on Alissa with a mixture of charm and calculation. Whatever he was saying was clearly working—Alissa giggled softly, brushing her hair back with a shy flutter of her lashes.“You ha

Dante stood with his back straight, posture casual but sharp-eyed, like a soldier in a tailored suit. His conversation with Enzo had shifted into logistics and tensions with one of the southern families, and though he listened, part of his focus drifted. Until it hit him.That scent.It curled through the air like a whisper—faint but impossible to ignore. Earthy spice. Cinnamon touched with the smallest trace of pine. It wasn’t perfume. It wasn’t cologne. It was him.Dante’s muscles tightened beneath his jacket. His head turned slowly, jaw clenched as his gaze swept the crowd.Then he saw her.Emilia. Sitting gracefully at a nearby table. Laughing softly. Her smile was real—warmed by innocence, unaware of the snake coiled beside her. And the man beside her…No.Dante’s entire demeanor shifted. The softness vanished from his eyes. He no longer looked like the powerful yet controlled figure he'd been just a moment ago. Now, he was a weapon—poised and sharpened.He excused himself from E

The air was thick with screams and the sharp scent of blood.It all happened so fast—so violently—that for a few seconds, no one moved. No one breathed. The room that had once glittered with chandeliers and luxury now echoed with chaos.The witches were swift.Heads rolled cleanly to the ground, blood arcing through the air like twisted ribbons of silk. Their movements were graceful—unnatural—too smooth to be human. Some guests tried to run. Others tried to fight. But the witches moved like shadows, dancing between bodies, leaving trails of carnage behind them.Vanessa’s hands flew to her mouth, her breath catching in her throat as she watched a man beside her be sliced from collarbone to stomach. His body collapsed before her heels could even pivot away. Her scream was buried beneath the chorus of others.Mark grabbed her arm, dragging her back toward the wall. “Stay close to me!”Behind them, Alissa stood frozen in place, unable to look away from the blood-streaked marble. She had s

The room was dim, save for the single antique lamp flickering weakly on a table near the far wall. Its golden hue cast long, trembling shadows across the ornate furnishings—shadows that danced with every uneven breath from the three figures inside.Vanessa paced like a cornered animal, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor with each turn. Her eyes were wild, her hair tangled from her earlier flight. She tugged at the sleeves of her once-elegant dress, her lips moving non-stop.“This is all Emilia’s fault,” she snapped for the fifth time, her voice high and strained. “She brought this curse upon the estate. She’s always been a magnet for misfortune—always! We should’ve gotten rid of her when we had the chance.”Alissa sat curled on the velvet settee, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rocked ever so slightly. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and unblinking. She was whispering to herself, too low to make out at first.“They shifted… they really shi