All Chapters of A Contract With The Devil in a Suit: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The silence inside the penthouse on the fifty-fifth floor felt different this morning. Leonard had left at dawn to attend an emergency meeting at the northern docks, leaving behind an atmosphere that felt barren, heavy with the suffocating traces of his power. Dante stood in the middle of the vast living room, staring at the slightly open door of Leonard’s study—a sight that almost never happened.Until now, his access to communication had been completely cut off. The tablet given to him functioned only one way: to monitor the hospital cameras. He could see his mother, but he could not touch her, could not greet her, and most painfully, could not hear her voice.But today, luck—or perhaps Leonard’s negligence—favored him.On top of the dark mahogany desk, a spare satellite phone lay carelessly in plain sight.Dante stepped forward with extreme caution, as if the marble floor might explode if he pressed down too hard. His heart pounded violently, striking his ribs with a painful rhythm

Dante was still lying in bed, his body stiff and every inch of his skin feeling as if it were on fire. The bite wound on his neck had been covered with a thin bandage, and his swollen wrists were neatly wrapped. He stared at the ceiling with empty eyes, his ears catching the faint sound of running water from the bathroom and the clinking of dishes from the dining area.Footsteps approached.Instinctively, Dante pulled the blanket higher, his body jerking slightly—a reflex of fear that had already rooted itself deep within him.But the person who appeared was not Leonard with explosive anger.Leonard entered carrying a small wooden tray. He was no longer wearing that terrifying black shirt; instead, he wore a soft gray cashmere sweater that made him look younger, more human, almost… warm. His hair, usually perfectly combed, fell slightly messy across his forehead.“You’re awake?” Leonard’s voice was gentle, soft as velvet. There was no trace of the devilish roar from the night before.

The shock Dante discovered in Leonard’s study had changed the structure of his soul. If before he had felt like an unfortunate victim of circumstance, now he realized he had been a carefully calibrated target. Every inch of luxury in the fifty-fifth–floor penthouse—from the polished marble floors to the soothing scent of aromatherapy—now felt like the leftover flesh of prey that had been hunted for a very long time.Dante no longer cried in surrender.Behind his tired eyes, a small flame had begun to burn. It was anger. But he had learned something from Leonard: anger was useless if it was visible. So he hid it behind the same mask of obedience Leonard had trained him to wear.He knew he could not fight Leonard with strength.He would have to use the only weapon he had.The body that obsessed the man.Dante’s escape plan began with observation. Leonard’s security system was extremely tight, but every system still depended on human elements. Among the guards led by Marco was a man name

After fifty hours inside the dark room, Dante’s return to the master bedroom of the penthouse did not feel like coming back to luxury. Instead, it felt like a prisoner returning to the only cage he recognized.The isolation punishment had done something terrifying to his nervous system.The suffocating silence and total darkness had warped his perception of reality, making the world beyond Leonard’s reach feel like an endless abyss waiting to swallow him whole.Dante lay beneath the cold silk sheets. His body was clean—Leonard had washed him himself with warm water the night before, an act of “gentleness” that felt more like conquest than kindness—but his mind was still trapped in the basement.Suddenly, the bedroom door opened.Dante’s reflex was no longer to hide or resist.Instead, his heart raced with a humiliating anticipation.When Leonard’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, a wave of unwanted relief swept through Dante’s chest. He hated himself for feeling it, yet his traumat

The temperature inside the penthouse on the fifty-fifth floor was always carefully set at twenty-two degrees. Yet Dante felt as if he were being burned alive in the middle of a desert—only to be thrown moments later into freezing water.Since Axel’s betrayal and the isolation in the dark room, Dante’s body had been trapped in a constant state of alarm.Adrenaline and cortisol had been flooding his veins for weeks without pause, slowly destroying his immune system and draining his energy down to the marrow of his bones. He no longer ate properly; every bite felt like swallowing sharp gravel.He no longer truly slept.He only closed his eyes and waited for morning with a kind of exhausted dread.The collapse came when he tried to rise from the bed to greet Leonard, who had just stepped out of the bathroom.Suddenly Dante’s vision faded.White sparks burst across his sight.The world tilted violently.“Dante?”Leonard’s voice sounded distant, as if he were speaking from behind a thick gl