All Chapters of Sold to the Devil : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The night air was growing heavier, cooler. Hints of dusk painted the horizon with soft shades of lilac and deepening navy. Lanterns strung across the garden lit up one by one, casting a golden glow over the estate grounds. The laughter and chatter from the grand ballroom spilled into the courtyard as the party grew more lively.Inside, the elite mingled effortlessly—men in fine suits discussing politics and under-the-table business, women in glittering gowns sipping expensive wine and exchanging gossip in hushed tones. The Moreau family, as hosts, made sure everything exuded perfection. Every dish, every string of music, every glance exchanged had been meticulously curated.Dante stood near the center of it all, surrounded by powerful men who hung on to every word he said. Dressed in a deep emerald suit—tailored to precision and subtly matching Emilia’s gown—he was the picture of elegance and control. His expression remained unreadable, as always, but his eyes flicked toward the ballr

The morning sun filtered weakly through the tall glass windows of Dante's estate, casting pale golden rays across the stone floors. The aftermath of the attack still lingered in the air. Guards patrolled every corner, the once-lively gardens now silent, save for the occasional chirping of birds that didn’t know better. Emilia paced nervously in her room. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. She hadn’t slept well; images of blood, howls, and monstrous creatures haunted her dreams.Mochi rubbed against her ankle, sensing her unease."Where is he?" she muttered under her breath. "He said it would be okay, but he’s still not back. What if—"The door creaked open. Emilia’s head snapped toward it, her heart racing, but she relaxed slightly when she saw Dante step in. He looked exhausted—his hair slightly tousled, his dark shirt clinging to him, as if he’d been out all night. And he probably had. Still, he stood tall, composed, eyes scanning the room before finally landing on

Marcello paced his room like a caged animal, his jaw clenched tight as he held the phone to his ear. His fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white with tension. The aftermath of the party had left a trail of destruction no one had anticipated—and among the dead was his sister.“You told me it was just going to be a controlled attack,” Marcello hissed into the receiver. “You said it would cause chaos, make Dante look incompetent, destabilize him. You never said it would get Lillian killed!”The voice on the other end was calm, too calm for Marcello’s fraying nerves.“That’s the price you pay when you play in the dark, Marcello. Casualties are inevitable. If your sister got caught in the crossfire, maybe she shouldn’t have been there.”Marcello gritted his teeth. “Don’t you dare blame her. You manipulated me into agreeing to this madness! I never wanted anyone to die—least of all my own blood!”A knock on his door snapped his attention away. Before he could respond, the door

The sun barely peeked over the treetops, casting long shadows across the estate. The atmosphere was thick with tension, so palpable it seemed to settle like fog on the shoulders of every person present. By midday, the great hall of the estate was filled with Alphas and Betas from various werewolf packs, all summoned urgently in the wake of the tragedy that had turned Seraphina's party into a massacre.Emilia stood near the far end of the room, just behind a marble column, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Despite everything Dante had told and shown her, a part of her was still struggling to accept it. Werewolves. Real ones. Not from books or films, but living, breathing beings now sitting before her, discussing retribution and loyalty like politicians from another world.The circular table at the center of the hall was surrounded by figures exuding authority. Dante sat at the head, his expression unreadable. Beside him stood Luka, his Beta and right hand, arms crossed, ever wat

Emilia stirred from her nap, stretching slightly as she sat up in the massive bed that now belonged to her. The plush comforter slid down her arms, and for a brief moment, she simply sat in silence, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Everything still felt surreal—this room, the silence, and most of all, the knowledge that Ivy was gone.Dante had told her she no longer had to serve—that she should rest, recover, and take care of herself. So she had. But sleep hadn't brought much peace. Her mind unknowingly went to thoughts of Ivy’s laughter, Lyra’s cheerful chatter, and the screams from the night of the attack.The knock on the door was soft but distinct. Before she could respond, the door opened slightly, and Dante stepped in.He paused when he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes distant.“You’re awake,” he said gently, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.She nodded slowly. “I didn’t sleep very well.”He walked over and sat beside