Sold My Soul To The Devil For Designer Mga Nobela at Kwento

The reality was suffocating. There was no escape. Not when his blood ran in my child’s veins. I had no choice. With shaking hands, I picked up the pen and signed the document. The moment my name was on the paper, Alexander's face had a grin, taking the contract like it was a prize he had just won. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my skin. “Good girl,” he murmured. A single tear slipped down my cheek. I had just sold my soul to the devil, to a man I had a one-night stand with.

I stiffened, my mind screaming at me to resist, but my body betrayed me, melting into his touch. And just like that, I knew—I wasn’t just signing a contract. I had sold my soul to the devil himself.

What the hell had I gotten myself into? I shouldn’t have sold my soul to a demon. Especially not this one.

It isn’t that difficult to admit that you’ve plagiarized, is it? #Soul Jewelry is a brand created by Zora, right? They actually ask their designers to continue to use her design language for popularity even after she died!#

] [“She looks like a goddess in everything she wears.” [“Don’t be fooled by the unsophisticated design. That is a one of a kind design by Damien G. It was on auction last month and it sold for five million dollars!”] [“Isabella, treat yourself with the money you took from that cheating bastard!”] [“You deserve the best! Tell us everything that happened two years ago!”] [“We are rooting for you!”] [“Destroy that bitch!”] [“We want the truth, no restraining, no lies, please!”]

“ Do you know who I am? Who the hell is the designer behind your collections?!” Talia screamed at Chara. “ I’m sorry but that is information, too sensitive to be shared.” Chara replied curtly. She recognised Talia, but refused to let her walk over her. “ How much would it cost?” Talia asked in a huff, and pulled out a wad of cash from her designer bag, “ Just spill it.” She seethed. “ I’m sorry ma’am. We do not sell out our partners or clients at Soul Shoes.” She gritted, annunciating every word. Gesturing to the door, she added, “ If that is all, I’d like to get back to my duties, please.”

“All I ask is a favor in return.” I breathed hard, pulse racing. He could get me off scot-free when the prosecution had irrefutable evidence of my crimes–that made him more dangerous than useful. I would be indebted to a man who could make me disappear without a trace. It was terrifying. But I’d sell my soul to the devil if it meant I could sleep on Egyptian cotton and dress in Prada. “What do you need?” I asked, heart in my throat. “Instead of just a designer, I want you to join my company as the head of a design team.”

Up on the high wooden auction platform, Kaelen stood like a god. He was dressed in his formal Alpha leathers, the thick black fur collar making his shoulders look impossibly broad. And clinging to his arm, wearing my heavy winter cloak, was Selena. She looked down at me, her perfect porcelain face twisted into a mask of manufactured pity, while her fingers stroked Kaelen’s chest possessively.

His eyes were dark and completely without expression. "My name is Alaric Virelli," he said, as though he expected that to mean something to me, as though his name was supposed to settle everything. "I don't care who you are," I said. "I am not going anywhere with you." Dorian grabbed my arm again and this time he yanked me toward him so hard that I stumbled. He got his face close to mine and his eyes were ugly with something I recognized after a moment as desperation. Not anger. Desperation. He needed this. Whatever this was, he needed it badly enough to drag me out of the house in the rain and hand me over to strangers.

Deny's clever brain is very reliable when it comes to tricking. *****