All Chapters of Puck with the devil : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Irene Pov The towering iron gates of the Dimitri estate parted like the silver jaws of a mythical beast, gleaming beneath the harsh glare of halogen floodlights and cutting through the dense evening fog. As Bella’s beat-up sedan rattled across the slick, cobblestone driveway, my stomach churned in violent, nauseating flips. Every yard we drove further into the estate felt like stepping completely out of my own skin, leaving behind the innocent girl who drew fashion sketches and dreamt of quiet, ordinary love.In the seat beside me, Bella gripped the leather steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned ghostly white. "We can still turn around, Irene," she whispered, her voice cracking with pure guilt as the towering silhouette of the glass mansion rose before us. "We can find another way. I’ll sell my car, I’ll beg my parents for a loan, I’ll—""No," I cut her off gently, my voice surprisingly steady despite the rapid, painful hammering of my heart against my ribs. I looked down at my

Lucian Dimitri Pov The heavy velvet curtains kept the morning sun at bay, plunging the massive master suite into a deep, luxurious twilight. When I woke up, I felt something soft beneath me. It was a stark contrast to my usual cold, empty mornings. Two slender arms kept clinging to me, anchoring me to the mattress. I blinked, waiting for the usual surge of irritation that came whenever anyone dared to touch me without permission. But the anger never arrived. Instead, I felt a strange wave of happiness, completely cool with the fact that I wasn't alone.I looked down at the person wrapped securely in my arms. Last night’s memories came rushing back in a vivid, searing wave—the desperate heat, the quiet whimpers, and the way she had surrendered to my overwhelming strength. A slow, rare smile broke across my face. Looking at her flushed, sleeping face, only one solid thought remained in my mind: this little lady under me was mine forever."You're now mine, kitten," I whispered, my voice

Irene Pov The air in the office went entirely still. I felt the heavy bag of money in my hands suddenly feel like dead weight. I stared at the physician, my chest tightening so hard it was difficult to draw breath."You mean you don't even know who paid off my dad's fees?" I asked, my voice cracking with pure shock.Dr. Holland offered a sympathetic but definitive shake of his head. "I don’t, Irene. The accounting department simply informed me that the entire balance, including the advanced surgical costs and post-operative care, was settled in full early this morning."Bella stepped closer, gripping my hand tightly, her own eyes wide with disbelief. "Not even a note? Or a message? Or any tiny clue left behind by whoever did it?""Not even a clue, my dear," Dr. Holland replied, his tone gentle. He adjusted his glasses, checking the tablet on his desk. "The payment came through an encrypted corporate account. But regardless of who did it, it couldn't have happened at a better time. Rig

Irene Pov The harsh morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the VIP suite, painting long, pale golden stripes across the polished floorboards.I sat back in the heavy leather armchair beside my father’s bed, resting my chin in my hands. My eyes were burning with exhaustion, but sleep felt completely out of reach. Every few seconds, my gaze drifted back to the heart monitor on the wall, watching the steady, green line pulse rhythmically across the screen.He was resting comfortably. The color had finally returned to his face, his skin no longer gray and hollowed out by pain. The surgery had worked. The danger was gone.Yet, despite the overwhelming relief flooding my chest, a cold knot of anxiety sat heavy in my stomach.I reached down and pulled my canvas tote bag onto my lap. Inside sat the thick, heavy manila envelope containing three hundred thousand dollars in cash—the exact price of the night I had spent in Lucian Dimitri’s bed. I opened the flap and stared

IreneThe ink on the crisp white paper seemed to burn into my retina.Three million dollars.My mind stalled, completely unable to process the sheer magnitude of the number staring back at me. To a twenty-year-old student who had been counting pennies for bus fare, skipping meals to pay for university printouts, and watching debt collectors relentlessly bang on her front door, three million dollars wasn’t just money. It was an impossible, unimaginable fortune. It was a golden shield. It was total freedom from the crushing weight of poverty that had been suffocating my family for years."You will receive one million dollars transferred directly into your personal bank account upon the signing of the agreement," Lucian’s voice cut through the heavy silence of the office. His tone was smooth, calm, and terrifyingly casual, as if he were discussing the price of a cup of morning coffee. "The remaining two million will be placed into a high-yield trust account, fully accessible at the end o