Semua Bab Sold to the Devil : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The grand chandelier above Dante’s study cast fractured light over the polished floor, the crystals swaying gently with every movement inside the cavernous room. The air was thick—silent, tense, with the kind of stillness that always preceded a storm. Emilia stood in the center, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her head was held high, lips pressed into a tight line, though her heart thundered in her chest.Dante sat behind his desk, a glass of dark whiskey in hand, his expression unreadable. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked like a man carved from night—sharp, cold, and dangerous.He didn’t speak immediately. He let the silence stretch, watching her with the same intensity a predator reserves for prey.“Care to explain,” he finally said, voice low, “why you were wandering around the estate like a damn tourist instead of doing what you were told?”Emilia exhaled slowly through her nose, refusing to flinch. “I wasn’t wa

Morning hung heavy over the Calhoun estate, a thick mist curling around its wrought iron gates. Mark stood before them alone, a worn satchel clutched in his hand. His shoes, coated in the city’s dust, crunched softly on the gravel driveway as one of Dante’s men silently admitted him through the side entrance. There was no fanfare, no greeting—just a quiet, oppressive stillness that seemed to swallow him whole.The satchel grew heavier with every step deeper into the estate, not from its contents, but from what it represented: sacrifice, desperation, and a silent betrayal. Mark had pawned nearly everything of value—tools from the garage, the gold chain his father left him, even the last of his savings tucked away for emergencies. All to rescue the girl he hadn’t protected when she needed him most.Vanessa didn’t know. She couldn’t. If she ever found out he was trying to reverse the deal she orchestrated, the consequences would be far greater than just a broken home.Inside, the mansion

The mansion was quiet after dinner. Dishes had been cleared, footsteps had faded, and the grand halls of the Calhoun estate had slipped into their usual haunting silence. Emilia sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her fingers through her damp hair, her thoughts elsewhere—hovering on a slim letter and whether it had made it past the gates.A knock at the door startled her.“Mr. Calhoun wishes to see you,” a guard announced, his tone stiff.Her pulse jumped. She stood, drying her hands on the hem of her nightgown, then grabbed a shawl and draped it over her shoulders before stepping out. The corridor to Dante’s private wing felt longer tonight, the sconces casting flickering shadows against the ornate wallpaper. Every footstep echoed.When she finally reached his bedroom door, she hesitated only for a moment before opening it.The room was dimly lit, the scent of cologne lingering in the air—rich, dark, and unmistakably his. Dante sat at a sleek mahogany desk, his sleeves rolled up to

Absolutely! Here's the next 1200-word chapter of Sold to the Devil, shifting the focus to Dante and offering a glimpse into his darker, mafia-dominated world. This scene explores his authority, his methods, and how he balances that life with Emilia’s Dante stood in the wine cellar, though not for the wine.The air was cold, and the scent of damp stone mixed with something coppery. In the far corner, two of his men were dragging a chair forward—its legs scraped against the floor, echoing against the concrete walls.Tied to the chair was a man in his mid-thirties, blood drying at his temple and his lower lip split. His expensive shirt was torn, revealing a tattoo on his chest—one that Dante recognized instantly.The Cartelli crest.Dante rolled his sleeves up, his movements slow and methodical. He didn’t like to get his hands dirty unless it was necessary. But tonight, it was necessary.He turned to Luka, his second-in-command. “Tell me again what this rat was doing in my territory.”L

Certainly! Here's the next chapter written with a slower pace and emotional depth, focusing on Alissa sat by her bedroom window, a pencil loosely gripped in her hand as she stared out across the street. The page before her, meant for homework, was still blank. All she could think about was Emilia.Her sister’s condition, the desperate letter their father had told her about days ago, repeated in her mind like a prayer.She's being held prisoner at the Calhoun estate.Alissa pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She hadn’t slept well since that night. Something about the way her parents argued behind closed doors, the way her mother had threatened her afterward—it all felt wrong. No, was wrong. There was something deeper here, something cold and twisted that her mother was trying to keep hidden.Emilia’s absence had left an ache in their home, one that Alissa had grown used to pretending didn’t exist. But now that she knew where her sister was—and what had been done to her—she c