All Chapters of Sold to the Devil : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The morning sun filtered through thin clouds, casting a silver haze across the Calhoun estate. Yet inside, the air was thick with urgency. Servants bustled through the corridors, arms full of velvet cloth, crystal trays, and golden decor, transforming the grand mansion into something that felt less like a home and more like a scene out of a dream—twisted, elegant, and unreal.Emilia stood by the garden entrance, arranging white roses along the edge of a stone archway. The scent was sweet, too sweet, and it reminded her of syrup—cloying and heavy. The flowers were perfect, like everything in the estate, and yet she couldn’t shake the uneasy flutter in her stomach.Today was the masquerade.She hadn't seen Dante since the night by the fireplace.His words still echoed in her mind, low and rough with something too raw to name. "I want freedom, Emilia. More than you think."Freedom.It had felt too honest coming from someone like him. Dangerous, even. And she hated herself for how often sh

The soft hum of the masquerade still buzzed in the ballroom. Glasses clinked, guests whispered behind their ornate masks, and music floated under golden chandeliers. But Dante wasn’t listening.He stood near the balcony doors, his jaw tight, one hand gripping the edge of a marble pillar.His eyes hadn’t left the place where Emilia had last stood.He kept expecting her to walk back into the room—maybe brushing off her skirt, maybe carrying another tray of drinks, that unsure look on her face when she was trying not to make eye contact with anyone. But she didn’t come back.Not after five minutes.Not after ten.His restlessness had turned into something else. Something heavier. Darker.With a sharp breath, Dante stepped away from the ballroom.He needed answers.Pulling out his phone, he called Mara.She answered quickly, as she always did. “Yes, sir?”“Where’s Emilia?” His voice was low, dangerous.There was a pause.“She should still be on the main floor,” Mara replied. “Last I saw,

The air in the park was crisp and quiet, the kind of early morning silence that blanketed everything in a fragile stillness. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, and the low hum of the city hadn’t quite woken up yet.Alissa sat on the edge of the weathered stone bench, arms wrapped around her knees, waiting. Her eyes scanned the winding trail that cut through the grass. She wasn’t sure James would show—his last message had been vague, and part of her feared he’d been forbidden from seeing her altogether.But then, through the veil of thin morning mist, she spotted him.James walked briskly toward her, hands tucked into the pockets of his navy jacket, his expression tense.“You came,” Alissa said, standing up quickly.“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. My dad caught me trying to look through some of his files last night.”She winced. “That sounds… reckless.”James gave a dry laugh and sat beside her.“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check if t

The moonlight bathed the long marble hallways of the Calhoun estate in a cold glow as Dante stepped through the front doors, Emilia's wrist firmly gripped in his hand. The evening mist still clung to their clothes, and the atmosphere inside the house shifted the moment they entered. A few servants nearby froze in place, unsure whether to lower their heads or flee. No one spoke.Mara, ever precise, was already waiting. She bowed stiffly. “I’ll take her to her quarters—”“No,” Dante cut in, voice sharp.Mara blinked. Emilia looked up at him in confusion.“She’s coming with me,” he said, tugging Emilia forward without looking at anyone else.Mara didn’t protest. She simply stepped aside, her eyes briefly catching Emilia’s with an unreadable expression—perhaps relief… perhaps pity.Dante said nothing as they climbed the grand staircase. His grip wasn’t bruising, but it was firm—angry. Emilia didn’t resist. Her feet moved on their own, her chest tight, her thoughts clouded. The estate was

The scent of soap and warm water clung to Emilia’s skin as she wrung out the last piece of linen and dropped it into the plastic basket by her feet. Her hands were wrinkled and slightly sore, and a strand of damp hair slipped from her braid, sticking to her cheek. The laundry room was quiet, save for the steady drip of water and the occasional gust of wind that rustled the curtain near the open window.Emilia stood and stretched, exhaling deeply. She glanced outside, where the golden light of the late afternoon sun bathed the gardens. The estate was alive with its usual, quiet rhythm, but something in the air felt… heavier today. She couldn't place it.A knock came on the open doorway.She turned, brushing her hands on her apron.A young maid stood there, looking slightly breathless. “Someone’s asking for you,” the girl said.Emilia blinked. “For me?”The maid nodded. “In the drawing room. They said it was urgent.”“Did they say who?”The girl shook her head. “No, but… they seemed kin