บททั้งหมดของ The Debt of the Virgin Widow: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Chapter 2: The Golden CageThe ceiling was the exact shade of "April Cloud" blue I had picked when I was six. I blinked, my lashes sticky with dried salt. For a heartbeat, the smell of lavender and the soft weight of a goose-down duvet convinced me the wedding, the fire, and the blood were just a fever dream.Then I moved.The heavy iron shackles around my ankles snapped against the mahogany bedpost. The cold metal bit into my skin, a jagged reminder of reality. I sat up, the room spinning. It was a perfect replica—the white vanity, the porcelain dolls, the lace curtains. But when I looked at the windows, the sunlight was sliced into strips by reinforced steel bars."You're finally awake. I was beginning to think Dante hit you too hard."A woman sat in the armchair by the corner, peeling an orange with a silver paring knife. She looked like an angel—golden hair, wide blue eyes, and a smile that didn't reach her pupils."Who are you?" My voice was a dry rasp."Sofia. Dante’s sister." S

Chapter 4: The Mask of DevotionThe heavy oak doors of the Vane estate closed with a final, echoing thud. I leaned against the wood, my legs shaking so violently I thought I might collapse. The perfume of the gala—cloying lilies and expensive sweat—still clung to my skin like a second layer of filth.I touched the bodice of my dress. The spot where Sterling had gripped my arm felt cold. A safe house. Canada. Freedom. The words should have been a lifeline. Instead, they felt like a lead weight in my stomach. I looked down the long, shadowed hallway toward Dante’s study. He was already inside, the thin line of light under the door the only thing cutting through the gloom.He had saved me from Moretti. He had wiped blood from my face with the gentleness of a lover. But he had also held me like a prisoner while his sister fed me to the wolves.I walked toward the light. My heels clicked against the marble, each sound a heartbeat. I reached the door and pushed it open.Dante was sitting be

Chapter 6: The Silence of the LambThe red light of the camera didn't blink anymore. It just stared. A tiny, unblinking eye recording my transformation.I sat on the edge of the bed in the replica room, my hands folded in my lap. The blood under my fingernails had dried into a crusty, black rim. I didn't wash it. I didn't move. I waited for the heavy vibration of his boots in the hallway.When the lock turned, I didn't flinch.Dante stepped in, his presence casting a long, jagged shadow over the April Cloud blue carpet. He was braced—shoulders wide, jaw set, eyes scanning for a thrown vase or a screaming accusation. He wanted a war. He was dressed for one.I didn't give him the satisfaction."You're awake," he said. His voice was a low grate, searching for friction.I stood up slowly. I kept my gaze fixed on the third button of his shirt. I let my shoulders slump, my spine curving into the shape of a girl who had finally been crushed under the weight of his world."The tea will be col

Chapter 8: The Mirror of TraumaDante stared at the crushed petals in his palm. The grey dust drifted to the floor, settling like ash. The room felt smaller, the air thick with the smell of rain and his rising heat. He took a step toward the bed, his shadow stretching over me until I was buried in darkness."Where did you get this, Bianca?"His voice was a low, jagged rasp. He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed my shoulder, his fingers digging into the bone, and hauled me out from under the duvet. I hit the floor hard, the cold marble shocking my skin."Answer me!" He roared. He slammed his fist into the mahogany nightstand, the wood splintering under his knuckles. "You’ve been in my files. You’ve been digging in the filth."I didn't cower. I didn't even move to cover myself. I stayed on the floor, my hair tangled over my face, looking up at him through the mess. I needed him to see the void."I didn't have to dig far, Dante," I whispered. I forced a dry, hollow laugh to scrape pas

Chapter 10: The First "I Love You""Don’t look down, Bianca. The world below us doesn’t matter tonight."Dante’s hand was a warm weight against my spine as he guided me toward the edge of the rooftop. The city of Oakhaven sprawled out beneath us, a jagged carpet of neon blues and bleeding reds. Up here, the wind whipped my velvet dress against my legs, the fabric heavy and bruised-purple. A single table sat under a canopy of iron beams, lit only by the flickering glow of thick wax candles and the distant, cold hum of the skyline.He pulled out my chair. His movements lacked their usual predatory snap. Tonight, the Butcher wore a suit that cost more than my father’s life, and his eyes—usually pits of obsidian—held a strange, shimmering fever."It’s beautiful," I whispered. My voice caught in the wind.Dante sat opposite me. He didn't reach for the wine. He just watched me. The way a man watches a miracle he expects to vanish. "I built this place for moments like this. To be above the f