Chapter 6

Lauren's POV

I had heard a lot about the Aldoracco family, but of course no family dried out their dirty linen in public.

Ritual rites? What the hell did that mean?

A woman in a sleek black dress and a headset gestured for me to follow her. I looked back to look for Kelvin but he seemed to have gone somewhere.

“This way, ma’am.” she urged.

The murmurs around the ballroom had shifted from scandalized whispers about Clarissa and Jane’s disgrace to something darker. A hush of expectation filled the air, a current of anticipation I couldn’t quite place.

Kelvin was already ahead, his long strides unhurried, exuding the effortless control of a man who knew the world would bend to his will. I forced myself to move, ignoring the pit forming in my stomach.

As I followed him deeper into the estate, the luxurious opulence of the ballroom faded behind us. The corridors grew quieter, the air heavier. We stepped into an elevator, the mirrored walls reflecting my uneasy expression.

Kelvin leaned against the railing, watching me with an unreadable look. “You seem nervous.”

I folded my arms, determined to appear unaffected. “Should I be?”

His lips twitched. “That depends on how much you fear the unknown.”

I hated how he spoke in riddles, how he held all the answers while I was left grasping at shadows.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open.

I stepped out and instantly realized we weren’t in just another wing of his estate.

We were underground.

The hallway before us was dimly lit, the walls lined with intricate carvings that looked both ancient and unsettling. Symbols I didn’t recognize curled along the stone, their meanings lost on me but their presence undeniable.

A shiver crept up my spine.

Kelvin walked ahead, his posture unbothered, as if this was just another business meeting.

“Kelvin,” I called out, my voice quieter than I intended. “What exactly is this?”

He stopped, turning slightly. The dim light cast deep shadows across his sharp features. “It’s tradition.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.” My patience was wearing thin, but my pulse quickened when I saw the figures waiting ahead.

Dressed in deep crimson robes, a small group of people stood in a semicircle at the entrance of a grand chamber. They bowed their heads as Kelvin approached.

One of them—a man with silver-streaked hair and a commanding presence—stepped forward. His piercing gaze settled on me, assessing.

“So this is the one,” he murmured, his voice holding a weight that sent my nerves spiraling.

Kelvin gave a slight nod. “She is.”

The man’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Then let us begin.”

‘Begin what?’

Before I could protest, a woman stepped up beside me, gently pulling off my silk gloves. Another untied the ribbon at my waist, and a third unclasped the delicate necklace I hadn’t realized I was gripping so tightly.

Panic started to rise, but Kelvin’s voice cut through it. “Breathe, Lauren.”

Easy for him to say.

The air smelled of burning herbs and something faintly metallic. The chamber beyond the robed figures flickered with candlelight, the floor marked with symbols similar to those on the walls.

“This ritual,” the silver-haired man continued, “is a rite of passage for those who stand beside the Aldoracco name. You have been chosen, but you must prove yourself worthy.”

Worthy? My stomach twisted.

Kelvin stepped beside me, his presence steady but offering no comfort.

“Lauren,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “Are you ready?”

I met his gaze, searching for answers he wouldn’t give.

But something told me that whatever this was—whatever secrets lay beyond that chamber—there was no turning back now.

I swallowed hard.

“Ready or not,” I whispered, “let’s get this over with.”

I was dressed in nothing but my underwear as I was led by two women into the chamber. It took a while to notice that they too were dressed in nothing but a piece of cloth tied on their chests.

The chamber was warmer than the corridor and the air was filled with the scent of burning herbs and something metallic. The dim candle light flickered against the walls, casting twisted shadows that seemed to move on their own like monsters.

The two women guiding me stopped at the threshold. One of them reached for a piece of silk, lifting it toward my face.

I stiffened.

“It’s a test of trust,” she murmured, her voice gentle but still eerily calm.

My breath hitched as the silk slid over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.

Every instinct screamed at me to rip it off, to demand answers, but I forced myself to stay still. Kelvin was somewhere in the room. I didn't want to do something stupid and make his family end up hating me.

The marriage might be fake, but this didn't seem like it was. And that bothered me…

A hush fell over the chamber.

Then, the soft shuffle of fabric. The women who had led me in stepped away, their presence retreating.

The silence stretched, stretching my nerves along with it.

What now?!

As if to answer my question, there was a sudden whisper of movement.

A shuffle of feet against the stone floor.

My senses sharpened, hyperaware of every breath, every sound.

The unmistakable slide of a rope against itself reached my ears before I felt it.

The moment my wrists were caught in its grip, I tensed. The rope was rough, the knot tight and precise as my hands were drawn together in front of me.

I tested the restraint instinctively.

No give.

My pulse pounded against my ribs, my skin tingling with the vulnerability of it.

Then came the sound.

A low, mechanical whirring.

My breath hitched.

It grew louder…closer…until…

A sharp sting sliced across my back.

A scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it.

The pain was quick, hot, and shocking, like a line of fire seared into my skin. My knees nearly buckled, but I held firm, gasping for breath.

The chamber remained silent. No one reacted.

And then…Another whir. More. Another sting.

This time, I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, my body jerking involuntarily.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, not from crying, but from the sheer intensity of it.

What the hell was this?

A test? A punishment? A marking?

The pain wasn’t deep, it wasn’t meant to maim, but it was precise. Controlled.

The worst part wasn’t even the pain.

It was waiting for the next deillinu.

The silence in between.

The knowledge that it was coming again.

I gasped for air, my shoulders heaving as I fought to keep still. My mind raced, trying to understand, trying to piece together what this meant, what they wanted from me.

And then, in the thick silence, I heard him.

His voice was soft, and sounded proud.

“Endure it.”

A two word command.

And I realized, I could die if I didn't go through this successfully. I might not even know how I died.

Either I endured, proving I was strong enough, worthy enough to stand beside him.

Or I broke.

I guess that's what I get for signing a contract with the devil's incarnate.