บททั้งหมดของ Bound To The Devil's Heir : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Damien’s POVThe study had become my refuge these past days, though not for the usual reasons. Normally, I worked here until the early hours of the morning contracts, coded ledgers, phone calls in languages only the underworld dared whisper. But now the room wasn’t quiet enough, not when her silence echoed louder than gunfire in my head.Serena.My wife.She drifted around the mansion like a ghost, polite when necessary, invisible the rest of the time. After the wedding, she had retreated into some shell I couldn’t break. At the dinner table, she’d smile faintly at Emilia’s jokes but never at mine. At night, she slipped into bed on her side and built a wall of stillness between us.I should’ve welcomed it. A wife who didn’t nag, didn’t pry, didn’t demand attention. That was the kind of arrangement I wanted clean, uncomplicated, detached.So why the hell did it bother me?I shut the ledger with a snap. Numbers swam before my eyes, meaningless. I’d faced rival cartels, assassins with

Serena’s POVThe villa looked like something ripped from a postcard white stone walls rising against the endless stretch of turquoise water, the sky painted in strokes of fading orange as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Seagulls circled lazily above, their cries echoing through the salt-thick air. Somewhere below, the waves crashed against jagged cliffs, a rhythmic roar that should have been soothing, but all it did was remind me how far away we were from the world I knew.I should have felt free here. But freedom wasn’t something Damien Alaric ever gave without strings.From the balcony outside our suite, I gripped the wrought-iron railing and let the sea wind whip strands of hair against my face. Behind me, the French doors clicked open. I didn’t need to turn to know it was him his presence was like a shadow that clung, heavy and magnetic, impossible to ignore.“You’ll catch a chill,” Damien said, his voice even, almost careless, but softer than usual. A folded shawl draped ov

Serena’s POVThe dream returned again that night.Smoke. Fire. My father’s voice barking orders I could barely hear over the roar of the flames. And then always the silhouette of a man standing just outside the inferno, untouched, watching me with cold amusement.Matthias.I jolted awake, breath caught in my throat. My skin was damp with sweat, my heart racing as though I’d actually been running. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the room around me. The villa’s bedroom was too perfect, too carefully arranged, the sheets too soft. It wasn’t my cage from two years ago. It wasn’t the room where nightmares were born. But it didn’t feel safe either.The sound of the waves against the cliffs reminded me where I was an island, a villa, a gilded prison dressed as paradise. Married to a man who had kidnapped me, who now looked at me like I was something he couldn’t quite decide whether to cage or protect.Damien.I rubbed my face and let out a shaky breath. Damn it. Why was I even thinking

Serena's point of View My bare feet made no sound against the marble floor, but Damien’s presence beside me thundered louder than any footsteps. He hadn’t spoken since he’d dismissed the guards, since he’d cut Carlo’s interrogation short. He just gripped my wrist firmly not hurting me, but not letting me go either and led me upstairs toward our wing of the villa.The silence between us was unbearable.I wanted to yank my hand away. I wanted to scream. But part of me was too exhausted, too raw after what I’d confessed. My uncle. Matthias. The name still burned on my tongue, and Damien’s face when he’d heard it burned behind my eyes.When he finally pushed open the bedroom door and pulled me inside, my chest clenched.“Sit,” he said.His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried that command that always made my spine tighten. I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, clutching the silk of my robe around me like armor.Damien closed the door. For once, he didn’t look like the untouchable hei

Serena's point of View The moment the car rolled through the mansion gates, I felt the shift in my chest. The villa on the coast had been a gilded cage, but at least it was surrounded by blue skies and salt-kissed air, laughter from strangers who didn’t know my name, and the illusion—however fragile—that I could breathe. This place was different. The mansion rose like a fortress of stone and shadows, its towers clawing at the dimming sky. Guards lined the drive, men in dark suits with colder eyes, weapons hidden but not invisible. Their presence should have made me feel safe, but instead it pressed down on me like a second skin. I knew Damien had tightened security, knew he had doubled the walls around us after what happened on the villa grounds. But protection and imprisonment often looked the same. The gates slammed shut behind us, and the sound jolted through me like the final click of a lock. Home. Prison. I couldn’t tell the difference any more Inside, the mansion was e