Is the punishment enough

Sherryl Rain stood in the rain, her eyelashes dripping with the water that slid from her wet hair to her forehead, then down to her eyes.

If she hadn't been sure before, now there was no doubt: the man who had bought her off the black market was a devil. Dallion was cold and evil, with no trace of humanity in his soul. It wasn't just the darkness that surrounded them—the rain blurred her vision, making it hard to tell weeds from plants. When she crouched down, pulling out weeds by mistake, she realized she had also yanked out some of the good plants, which Dallion had already planned to punish her for further.

But, just as Dallion had said, the rain finally let up, leaving only the cold wind to lash against her, making her shiver in the drenched dress that clung to her body, heavy and cumbersome from all the water it had absorbed.

Now able to see the garden more clearly, she glanced down at the ruined plants and grimaced internally. Kill me now, she thought. Hiding the good ones under the soil again, she moved to another patch. If anyone asked, she'd blame it on the rain. It wasn't a complete disaster—the garden was well-kept, and there weren't many weeds left to begin with.

Sherryl dared not look around to check if Dallion was still watching. Who knew if the devil was having his own twisted fun at her expense?

Thanks to the rain, the soil had softened enough to make pulling weeds easier, and she was careful not to disturb any more of the actual plants. The last thing she wanted was to give Dallion another reason to punish her. While Sherryl worked under the dim light cast by the mansion’s outdoor lamps, Lady Grace arrived, summoned by the butler with news that her brother was waiting for her at the door.

Lady Grace hadn’t noticed the woman toiling in the garden and turned to speak to her brother as soon as she stepped outside, "You called for me, Dallion?"

"I did," Dallion turned to his right, meeting his elder sister's gaze with a smile that appeared calm and collected.

Grace furrowed her brows, wondering what had put her brother in such a good mood. Something caught her eye, and she turned to see Sherryl working in the garden. "What are you making her do this late at night?"

"What do you think?" Dallion let his sister guess, watching her frown deepen.

"She's soaked. She’s going to catch a cold," Grace said, taking two steps toward the garden before her brother's voice stopped her.

"Bring her back, and she’ll face the same fate as Lara."

Grace froze mid-step. "You wouldn’t," she said, turning to face him, her voice strained as she clenched her fists. The memory of what happened to Lara, a servant who had crossed Dallion, flashed through her mind.

"Try me," Dallion smirked, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "There’s no harm in testing boundaries, is there?"

"Show some compassion, Dallion. She's still so young and a human too, with feelings."

"Don’t patronize me, Grace. Especially not you," Dallion’s smile lingered, though it darkened as his sister recalled their shared history.

"It was an accident. You know that," Grace insisted, her voice wavering.

"An accident? You killed a maid out of jealousy because the man you loved paid her attention. How did it feel, Grace? To have her blood on your hands and watch him look at you with so much disgust that you wanted to end it all?" Dallion’s taunts pierced through her, and though pain flickered across her features, she quickly masked it.

"Say what you will, brother, but you’re no better than me," Grace replied, her voice hardening.

"I never claimed to be," Dallion shrugged, his gaze shifting back to Sherryl, who was trembling in the cold garden. "This is just a reminder."

"You’re punishing her for something I did. Why? Why torment her for my mistake?" Grace asked, though she knew her brother relished the sight before him.

"Because, dear sister, I can’t punish you. You’re blood. And where’s the fun in hurting someone who won’t react?" Dallion’s voice dripped with mockery.

"She’s going to get sick."

"I’ll nurse her back to health. But don’t forget, it’s because of you that she’s suffering," he replied, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as the cold wind swept over them.

"It’s your fault, Grace. The girl doesn’t know it, but you do. You know how much I hate intruders in the attic, including you."

"She wasn’t just your mother—she was mine too," Grace said, her voice defensive.

Dallion chuckled darkly. "I haven’t forgotten that. But where were you when Father wanted to burn all her belongings? Standing there, watching, doing nothing? You were her daughter, and you’re my sister, but even between us, there are lines that cannot be crossed."

Grace nodded slowly, the weight of the past settling on her shoulders. "Drawing lines and setting rules is one thing, Dallion. But for your loved ones, sometimes understanding comes too late."

As if the conversation hadn’t just plunged into painful memories, Dallion remarked, "Is she planting flowers or pulling weeds? What’s taking so long?"

"It’s dark. What did you expect?" Grace pointed out the obvious, earning an eye roll from her brother.

Dallion didn’t bother replying. He strode toward Sherryl, who crouched low, struggling to see in the dim light. The mansion's lanterns offered only a faint glow, just enough for her to spot the plants in front of her. Catching the shadow of Dallion looming over her, she looked up, startled.

Unable to stop herself, she blurted out, "You’re going to pull weeds with me?"

"Why not?" Dallion said as he crouched beside her. Sherryl's eyes widened in disbelief. This man—this dangerous, possessive mafia leader—was now sitting next to her, examining the same plants.

Without warning, Dallion scolded her, "Do you have a death wish? You’ve been pulling the good ones."

Despite his harsh words, the threat didn’t seem as terrifying as it should have. This man, the feared leader of the Cross empire, was sitting at her level, casually talking to her. Dallion snapped his fingers in front of her face, bringing her back to reality.

Sherryl shivered under his intense gaze, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Her heart pounded as Dallion’s face inched closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. She could feel his breath against her cheek, and her pulse quickened.

“Master Dallion,” she whispered nervously.

“Hm?” Dallion didn’t move, his eyes still locked on hers.

“You’re crushing the plant under your foot. That’s not a weed,” she said, her voice barely steady as her heart raced.

Dallion glanced down, his lips curling into a smirk. “Says the girl who’s been uprooting all the good ones. Are you stupid or just plain useless?”

Ignoring his comment, Sherryl felt the tension between them grow thick as the rain began to ease. Lady Grace, watching from afar, couldn’t help but wonder what twisted game her brother was playing.

As the night wore on, the past hung heavily between Dallion and Grace, while Sherryl remained caught in the crossfire of a dark legacy she couldn’t yet comprehend.