Lahat ng Kabanata ng Chains of Velvet, Heart of Fire: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

She should have seen it coming.The late-night calls. The shadowed conversations. The hush that fell over the room when she walked in.In hindsight, it all felt obvious. Like blood splattered across white silk — impossible to miss once you knew where to look.But Seraphina Vale had always believed that love, in its purest form, was protection. That no matter how twisted the world became, the people you gave your heart to would never be the ones to sell it.She was wrong.And now, she was standing in a gilded hotel suite, draped in a black velvet dress she hadn’t picked, wearing heels she couldn’t run in, staring at the man she had once promised forever to — and watching him hand her over to a stranger.“I didn’t have a choice,” Julian said, voice hoarse.“You did,” she replied calmly. “You just made the one that didn’t involve you bleeding.”The man who was once her fiancé flinched, jaw tightening. He looked as immaculate as always — tailored navy suit, dark blond hair combed back, cu

The morning after being sold didn’t feel like a tragedy.It felt like a performance.Seraphina Vale woke to the scent of honeyed jasmine, the rustle of distant silk curtains, and the softness of a bed too expensive for someone who no longer had a name.She didn’t stretch. Didn’t sigh.She lay still, eyes open, watching the gold-leaf ceiling above her glow under the gentle touch of dawn.Somewhere beneath the luxury, she could feel the weight of invisible chains coiled around her spine.She would never be free here.But she could pretend.Pretending, after all, was what had kept her alive this long.A soft knock at the door broke the stillness.She sat up, letting the silk sheets fall around her. Her black velvet nightdress clung to her skin — someone had changed her clothes after she fell asleep. She didn’t remember how or when. That thought alone stirred something ugly in her stomach.Another knock.“Enter,” she said, voice steady.The door opened slowly, revealing a woman in her lat

Seraphina's POVThe estate smelled like secrets and expensive roses.Seraphina Vale followed the stone path through the south garden in silence, her bare arms catching sunlight that hadn’t touched her in days. The grass was too green, too perfect—like it was terrified to grow wrong in Lucien Marchesi’s shadow.She wasn’t supposed to be here. That made it better.The rules were simple: no unsupervised movement beyond the east wing. No entering restricted areas. No questioning the help. Which meant every footstep outside the mapped route was its own rebellion.And rebellions, even small ones, made her feel alive.“Are you lost?” said a voice behind her.She didn’t turn around.“Depends on who’s asking.”The voice moved closer. Male. Smooth. Amused.“If I said Lucien sent me, would that make a difference?”She turned.The man was tall, lean, immaculately dressed in an open charcoal vest and slacks. Olive-toned skin, wavy brown hair just over the eyes, and a smirk that belonged to someone

Lucien didn’t sleep.He watched her sleep.He’d crossed the line hours ago, long after Adriana’s fury had faded into silence. Past midnight. Past reason.Now, he stood in the doorway of Seraphina’s room, leaning in shadow, breath quiet, heartbeat loud.She was curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her cheek, the covers rising and falling with her breath. A lock of dark hair spilled across her lips, and he hated how badly he wanted to brush it away.He didn’t belong here.She didn’t belong here.And yet… she did. She fit. As if the house had always been waiting for her. As if he had.He stepped closer.The fire was still lit, casting soft gold on her skin. On the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, the collar—his mark, worn like a whisper.She shifted in her sleep, murmured something he couldn’t hear.Lucien reached out, not touching—just hovering. A hand near her face, near her mouth.He could kill her right now. End the ache. Bury the threat.She’d never scream.She

Rain fell like knives the next morning. It hadn’t stopped since the night Seraphina and Lucien shared that almost-kiss. That almost-fall.But no one in the estate mentioned the storm.No one mentioned that Lucien Marchesi had stayed in her room until sunrise, or that he left before anyone saw. No one spoke of how Raina’s hands trembled as she delivered breakfast, or how Adriana’s eyes tracked Seraphina like a hawk spotting a wounded rabbit.Seraphina walked the halls like she belonged there.Not like a prisoner. Not like a queen.Like a woman with a plan.Because she had one now — one built not just on escape, but on retribution.She’d seen the files. Knew where the cracks were in Lucien’s empire.And she knew exactly where to drive her blade.She found Matteo in the training yard by accident.He was sparring with one of the guards — shirtless, sweating, grinning like violence was foreplay. His movements were fast, erratic, calculated chaos.When he saw her watching, he stopped mid-sw