All Chapters of Contracted sin: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

31 Chapters

Unholy cracks

Serena barely slept after Matteo’s arrival. The mansion, already a pressure cooker of secrets and simmering threats, now felt like it had one more live wire crackling in the walls. By morning, Vanessa had packed a sleek suitcase and kissed Donato’s cheek with a terse “I’ll be back in ten days try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.” She had shot Serena a meaningful look before sliding into the tinted car. Then the gates closed, and Serena was truly alone with the Vitale men. She spent the first day trying to act normal. No more midnight snooping through drawers or listening at doors. No more hunting for leverage that might get her killed.. She read in the conservatory until her eyes blurred, took long showers that turned her skin pink, and tried to pretend the silk robe sliding over her thighs didn’t remind her of Damien’s hands that night in the hallway. It was a pathetic fucking lie, but she clung to it. Matteo made normal impossible. He found her on the second aftern

Late regrets

Damien couldn’t shake the memory of that kiss no matter how hard he tried. He paced his room with the taste of Serena still lingering on his tongue and that soft gasp she had made when his fingers tangled in her hair. The way her body had pressed into him before she shoved him back to reality. Why the fuck did I do that? She was my father's fucking wife. Damien had survived this family by keeping his dick and his heart locked down tight. One weak moment and now he was replaying every detail on loop. He slammed his fist into the wall, knuckles splitting against plaster. “Stupid motherfucker,” he growled to the empty room. She wasn’t his and she never would be. That kiss was a mistake, born from too much tension and the sight of her looking so goddamn lost. He jerked off angrily in the shower afterward, imagining her mouth, her tight heat, her voice moaning his name, but the release left him emptier than before. By morning, the decision was made. He would go back to being the cold

Blood ties

Serena stood in the grand foyer her fingers tracing the cold edge of a marble pillar as the iron gates groaned open under the afternoon sun. The blacked out SUV rolled in it's tires crushing gravel that had probably hidden more than a few bodies over the years. Vanessa stepped out her dark hair was messy from travel, tight jeans hugging her hips, cropped top showing a sliver of toned stomach. “Serena, fuck. You’re still alive and breathing,” Vanessa called out, dropping her duffel with a thud and pulling her into a tight hug. “ How the hell are you holding up in this shithole?” Two servants in crisp black uniforms appeared like ghosts, murmuring polite welcomes and hauling Vanessa’s bags upstairs without making eye contact. Serena didn’t bother acknowledging them beyond a nod. “It’s been a goddamn nightmare, but you’re here now. Come on, let’s get you inside before someone decides to make this reunion ugly.” They climbed the staircase together, the mansion’s heavy atmosphere

Conceited rules

Morning light filtered weakly through the heavy drapes. Serena found Vanessa in the conservatory attached to the east wing, the two of them sipping strong coffee while servants moved like silently in the background. “You look like absolute shit,” Vanessa said bluntly, but her eyes held real concern. “Rough night with one of the assholes?” Serena sank into the chair across from her, pulling her robe tighter around her marked body. “You have no fucking idea. Matteo cornered me again. Fucked me stupid by the pool mouth, pussy, ass, the whole goddamn treatment. And I came for him. Multiple times.” She laughed . “This house is rotting me from the inside out.” Vanessa reached over, squeezing her hand. “These Vitale men are predators. My brother has always been like that. Damien learned it from him, but there’s something broken in him too. And Matteo? He’s just a younger, hornier version of his father Lucas.” Vanessa opened up about feeling like the spare sister, the one shipped awa

Absolute obedience

The morning after the new contract felt like waking up inside a noose that had tightened overnight. Serena stared at the ceiling of the master suite, the heavy silk sheets tangled around her legs, the faint ache between them was a reminder of how Donato had “reminded” her after she signed. Her scalp still stung where he had yanked her hair. And the papers those goddamn new rules lay somewhere downstairs in his study, already locked. What the fuck was wrong with him? She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet over her breasts even though no one was watching. The man already owned her body, her name, her schedule. The original contract had been brutal enough now he decided he could rewrite the terms whenever his dick or his ego demanded it. “Because he can,” she muttered to the empty room. “Because I’m the fucking debt payment and he gets to change the interest rate whenever he wants.” By the time she dressed in a simple black dress that hugged her curves , the mansion was already hu

The growing shadow

Serena woke up with her cheek still throbbing. The bruise from Donato’s slap had darkened overnight into an ugly purple and yellow stain that no amount of concealer fully covered. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time, staring at her reflection like it belonged to a stranger. The woman looking back at her was tired, angry, and starting to look hollow around the eyes. Dark circles sat beneath them. Her lower lip was slightly swollen from where she had bitten down hard the night before to keep from making a sound. She pressed her fingers gently against the mark and hissed through her teeth. “Fucking bastard,” she muttered under her breath. The shower ran scalding hot. She stood under the spray until her skin turned pink and the bathroom filled with steam. When she finally stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged. She wiped a clear circle with her palm and stared at herself again. You’re still here. She dressed carefully a high necked black dress th

Who doesn't want you dead

Serena sat on the edge of the stone bench in the conservatory long after the last of the evening light had bled out of the glass ceiling. The phone in her pocket felt heavier than it should have. She kept pulling it out, unlocking it, staring at the empty thread where the messages had been, then locking it again like the act itself might erase what she had already seen. Who the fuck was this person? And why the sudden concern for her continued breathing? People in Donato’s orbit did not hand out free warnings. The idea that someone might be trying to keep her alive without an obvious angle made her stomach twist harder than the slap had. She stood, pacing the length of the conservatory, bare feet silent on the cool tile. Every few steps she glanced at the glass doors leading back into the main house, half expecting Lucas’s silhouette to appear the way it had earlier when he watched her from the second floor window. He had not bothered to hide it. She needed to move. Sitting sti

Marked for you

Serena sat on the edge of the bed long after the unknown number’s last message had gone dark, the phone screen still warm against her palm. Stay away from the east warehouse next week. The words sat in her chest like a swallowed stone. She had no idea what the east warehouse even was. Something industrial on the far side of the estate grounds, half hidden behind the old olive trees and the service road that only the men used after dark. She’d heard Salvatore mention it once in passing short shipments, temporary storage, the kind of place where crates arrived without paperwork and left the same way. But that was all. Just a vague shape in the distance and now a warning that felt heavier than any threat Donato had ever delivered to her face. She typed and deleted three different replies before she finally locked the phone and shoved it under the pillow. Asking more questions would only prove she was listening. And whoever this person was, they already knew too much about her. By m

No local bodies

Serena lay awake long after the house had settled into its usual silence, the memory of Damien’s mouth on hers looping through her head like a fever she couldn’t break. The kiss hadn’t been soft. His hand in her hair, the rough scrape of his split knuckles against her cheek, the way his body had pressed hers back against the library door until the wood dug into her spine. She could still taste him. Still feel the hard line of his cock against her hip for that single second before he’d broken away and told her he wouldn’t fuck her against a door while half the house was still awake. God, she’d wanted him to. She pressed her thighs together under the sheets and shut her eyes, replaying the low rasp of his voice. By the time grey light leaked through the curtains she had slept maybe two hours, and even those had been full of the warehouse warning and the sound of Damien’s voice promising to keep her alive even if it killed him. She dressed up, covering the bruise with heavier ma

The trap

The night stretched like a live wire under Serena’s skin. She sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, phone face down on the mattress beside her, the unknown number’s last message still burning behind her eyes. The house never truly slept. Footsteps drifted past her door every twenty minutes. A car engine growled once on the service road and cut out. Somewhere downstairs a door closed . Lucas’s trap was live, and the whole goddamn place knew it. She didn’t move. Vanessa’s warning sat in her chest like a stone. The west wing service door would be unlocked by now. Two of Lucas’s men waiting just inside, ready to grab whatever curious little mouse wandered too close. Serena pressed her thighs together and forced her breathing slow. The memory of Damien’s mouth on hers kept sliding back in anyway the scrape of his split knuckles, the hard line of him against her hip, the rough order that he wouldn’t fuck her against a door while half the house was still awake. God, she’d wanted him to.

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