All Chapters of BURIED AS HIS LOVE, REBORN AS HIS CURSE. : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Calla's POVThe moment the principal left the office, I felt his rage. The shift in the air was suffocating. He was like a thunderstorm had walked in wearing an expensive watch and a bad mood.Madden’s arms crossed as he turned toward me, his jaw ticking like he was grinding teeth into diamonds.I sat neatly in the chair, legs crossed, hands folded in my lap, channeling every ounce of Stepford-wife energy I could muster. Very un-Isadora. Very un– witch.He narrowed his eyes “Okay,” he said finally, slowly. “What the hell is this?”I blinked up at him, innocently .“What’s what?”He motioned vaguely at my outfit, like my blouse had personally insulted his ancestors. “This. The Disney princess getup. The soft hair. The—” He pointed accusingly at my arm. “Minimal tattoos. Who the hell are you right now?”I smoothed my blouse and looked down at the rose inked on my shoulder.. “You noticed the rose. Cute.”“Answer the question.”I leaned back. “Why does it bother you so much? That I look… d

Calla's POV:The bass hit like a hammer to the chest, causing my head to throb painfully. I hate loud music!The club was a full-on circus. Neon lights flashed like sirens. Girls in bikinis were twerking on platforms, writhing against poles slick with sweat and champagne. Someone sprayed a bottle of Moët into the crowd like it was confetti. The air stank of money, lust, and cologne.My heels sank into something sticky. I didn’t want to look down. I didn't want to be disgusted twice.“Isn’t this divine?” Kassandra yelled over the music as she dragged me past a velvet rope. “No rules. No pants. No consequences! Just rich humans getting drunk senseless!” I didn’t get to reply because we were already ascending a narrow staircase to the VIP room. In the room, curtains were pulled with candles glowing in sleek wall sconces. Three men were waiting.My heart dropped to my feet.The men were hot, sculpted, and shirtless. Each one built like they were auditioning for a sin-themed calendar. O

Calla's POV: “I release the chaos. I let go of poison. I am not her,” I whispered, eyes closed. The morning air was soft and calm and I knelt in the Blackwell garden with a metal bowl filled with dried sage, lavender, and a few herbs Greta had angrily hissed were for "pasta, not paganism." I lit the corner, and as the fire caught, the smoke began to curl like fingers around me. My aunt used to do cleansing rituals. She said it helps clear thick, dark energies. Another puff of smoke spiraled into my face. I coughed—gracefully, I hoped—and waved it off. Of course, that’s when I heard footsteps. I didn’t need to look up. I could already feel the darkness behind me. “What the hell is this? A séance?” Madden’s voice was flat, tired, and rich with disapproval. “Should I be worried you're about to summon a demon or marry a tree?” I cracked one eye open. “It's sage. I'm cleansing negative energy. This house is practically marinated in it.” He stared at the swirling smoke. “You know

Calla's POV: I stared at Madden in horror. I stared at the handcuffs in dread. I stared at the dark forest in fear. “No,” I said, lips quivering. “Let’s not do this, Madden. Please.” His head tilted slowly, like he was trying to understand a language he didn’t speak. The handcuffs dangled between his fingers, swaying like a pendulum. “Don’t do this?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You—you’ve manipulated me for years, Isadora. Humiliated me. Tore apart everything I ever believed in. And now you want to play innocent?” He grabbed my arm, hard .I gasped as he yanked me toward the tree. “No—stop—” “You said you’ve changed,” he growled, his face inches from mine, breath hot with fury. “So prove it. Submit. Show me this isn’t some twisted act to crawl your way back into control.” “I said no!” I shouted, wrenching my arm. But his grip only tightened. “You owe me,” he hissed. “You owe me every goddamn tear I shed, every time I sat in that house wondering why I wasn’t enough. You th