The woman was swift as she emerged with two boxes in her hands. "These arrived together with the crimson stilettos you were eyeing, Mr. Cross," she said, opening a box without waiting for her assistant and kneeling in front of Sherry. Sherry found this strange, almost unsettling. Two weeks into this life, and people had treated her like a pawn, disregarding her as if her individual worth didn’t matter. In that time, this woman, who managed the store, knelt before her without even a moment’s hesitation. The gesture touched Sherry. It was often said that in the bleakest moments, the smallest kindness felt like a light in the dark, a reminder that some trace of humanity lingered, even among people as ruthless as those in the Cross Empire. "These are crafted by a master cobbler in southern Bone lake," Gen explained, lifting a pair of dark, inky blue heels that resembled a midnight sky. From afar, they appeared black, but upon closer
She was only going to wait, to wait until an opportunity comes by for her to escape.Sherry watched Dallion as he closed his eyes, his hand shielding them from the faint light filtering into the room. She felt a strange stillness, now that he had decided to take a nap. Unsure of what to do with the boxes of shoes he’d bought for her, she lowered herself to the floor, setting them beside her. Opening one of the boxes, Sherry was met with a sleek heel, reminiscent of the ones the store assistant had forced her to try on earlier. Despite Dallion’s insistence on something “cheap,” these shoes looked anything but extremely expensive. Maybe in the Cross empire’s elite stores, this was the baseline, the cheapest one, as per Dallion's thoughts there was nothing affordable for anyone who wasn't within their high ranks or powerful connections in their circle. She closed the box, then opened another to reveal a pair of flat-laced boots, sturdy yet grace
His sister and father seemed clueless as they wracked their minds, trying to remember who it was. His stepmother, on the other hand, sighed with thinly veiled frustration and answered slowly, "Jerry Locks." "Oh, him!" Dallion remembered Jerry well, having met him several times in various business circles. Jerry was known as one of the few straightforward men in the council, often seen alongside the powerful leader of the Cross empire. Dallion couldn't imagine someone like Jerry falling for his little sister Rose. While he and Grace shared the same mother, Rose was just a half-sister to them, sharing only their father. It wasn’t like he needed to know all the details, but if hot tea was spilling freely, who was he to stop it? Instead, he leaned back, relishing the sour look on his stepmother's face. "Apparently, he wasn’t man enough to win Rose over. She even went to visit him before his parents’ tragic death,
The shattered glass lay scattered across the polished floor, glistening among the deep forest-green liquid that had spilled with it. Sherry Rain froze in the spot, her heart started pounding in her chest like a thunderous drum, a sound reminiscent of the tales from her old neighborhood where such drums marked the coming of a big trouble. But this time, it wasn't to the neighborhood people. Here, she was certain she'd be tossed to the mercy of the sea through the huge window behind her by Dallion Cross for tampering with something forbidden, something she had no business opening. Standing in the doorway, Dallion’s face was unreadable. His usual mocking smirk was gone, it was replaced instead with an icy glare that made Sherry brace herself. She knew he wasn’t a man of idle threats, especially not when it came to the Cross Empire. Before he could open his mouth, Sherry quickly dipped her head in a deep bow, speaking before her courage failed he
Dallion shifted his gaze from her to the now-sealed box. “These black doctors, they’re raising an army, almost like the renegade mafias do, they are currently converting people who serve them mindlessly. Not unlike how we mafias tried creating armies by transforming innocents people into enforcers. Only this time, the doctors are finding ways to make innocent people forget about their humanity. Their bitterness fuels them, especially those who are orphans and desperate ,” he explained, with an intensity that made her uneasy. Sherry knew all this explanation was leading up to something. This wasn’t the first time he’d cornered her with a sly punishment in mind. “If you don’t mind, I can clean up the glass and make the room spotless,” she offered, desperately hoping it might save her from whatever punishment he was cooking up. Dallion raised a bored eyebrow. “You think a littl
Sherry bit back a sigh. This was new territory. She’d spent her teenage days playing tricks in the market to survive, she had also beaten some clever people who tried to harm her in the streets, other times she would sit at her aunt's kiosk watching from the sidelines as others took the spotlight by staging war at the streets. And now, he wanted her to play Clara, a role she’d once refused in her highschool for its over-the-top melodrama. Still, she continued to flip to the next page, feeling the weight of Dallion’s gaze as she continued her act. “Do you need me to take that book from you, and ask you to play just like it's written Sherry without reading it?” Dallion taunted, feigning boredom. But Sherry caught the underlying edge, his attention sharp, almost predatory. Clearing her throat, she started pacing, allowing herself to slip into character again. “Where is Mr. Cruise?” Her voice rang out, and for a second, she felt the thrill of the street life return. Just as she began t
Sherryl’s thoughts drifted back to Dallion’s words, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between them. Mr. Cruise, spineless and shallow, was like a thorn in her memory. She found herself almost angry at how easy it was for men like him to walk away from promises and shatter hearts without a second thought. A spark of resolve flickered in her eyes as she glanced at Dallion, who was still watching her, that rare softness still lingering. She wondered, fleetingly, what secrets lay hidden behind his mask of iron—was he, too, a man capable of breaking hearts and walking away, or was he different?Dallion’s eyes met hers, his lips quirking upward as though reading her mind. “You’re wondering if I’m like him,” he remarked, his voice low. It wasn’t a question. Sherryl blinked, feeling her cheeks flush. Was she that transparent?“Would it be wrong to wonder?” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.His laughter was quiet, a mere huff of air, but it carri
"Not a thing," Dallion smirked, his gaze intense. "You doubt me too much, Sherryl. Maybe it's time you had a little faith in me." His smile was charming, yet chilling, a silent promise that made her wonder if he’d already planned a convenient place to bury her on the way to Cross empire's theater. Sherryl used the pause and the silence between them to apologize, tilting her head slightly, offering a gesture of sincerity. Her submission caught Dallion’s interest, his expression unreadable. "Sorry about the glass tube," she said quietly, careful with her tone. "I’ll be more cautious. I won’t touch anything here again." "Good to hear it. But know this, Sherryl," his voice softened, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Break anything that belongs to the council, and we’ll both find ourselves under Cross’s scrutiny. They’d make you wish you hadn’t acted so carelessly." He leaned back, studying her with an amused glint.
In the early hours of the evening, where the city’s lights flickered against the thick clouds looming above, Sherryl Rain found herself seated on a sleek, black leather chair in Dallion Cross’s personal chamber—a space far removed from the glamour of his grand estate. This room, lined with shadowed corners and polished steel, exuded control and mystery, much like the man who ruled it. Sherryl, now accustomed to the unconventional life she had been drawn into, was working on her assigned tasks. A modern tablet lay before her, the glow illuminating her delicate features as she practiced the art of precision—handwriting exercises. Although this seemed an unusual task in the digital age, Dallion valued the elegance of penmanship. To him, elegance equaled discipline. Her focus wavered when a droplet of crimson ink fell from the quill-like stylus she held, staining the parchment she used to replicate letters. Frustrated but not wanting to anger Dallion, she carefully tilted the paper to s
Sherry's heart thundered in her chest as if she were prey, and the predator before her was ready to devour her completely. She swallowed hard, the soft glow of red lights in the room casting ominous shadows on the walls. Dallion’s voice was as smooth as dark velvet, low and commanding. “What’s got you so scared, little mouse?” “It’s going to hurt,” she whispered, the idea of his tools cutting through her barriers spiking her fear. He smirked, leaning closer, his towering frame enveloping her as he braced one hand on the leather-padded wall beside her head. “Do you know, Sherryl Rain? Even pain can turn into pleasure.” Her throat bobbed nervously. “The person must be a true masochist to think pain is a pleasure,” she shot back, trying to mask her trembling voice with forced confidence. A dark hum rumbled from his chest as he studied her, the corner of his lips quirking. “If you haven’t experienced it, you haven’t lived at all. Don’t be so tense.” His voice dipped lower as his fing
They left after Sherryl had settled scores with her foster family, in the car Dallion kept on staring at Sherryl something she found too odd. She knew Dallion loved looking at her face but not to the extreme he was looking at her at the moment. "Do you think I did something bad to them? Like I'm being unfilial to them?" She brushed her brows before looking at Dallion who was engrossed in looking at her. " I think I just got back at them for what they did to me, but I feel like a fool by stooping to their level." Sherryl didn't get any response from Dallion , not like she was expecting any answers from him anyway, she silently moved closer to the window and focused on the scenery outside, when they arrived at the mansion Dallion took her hand into his and led her. Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. as he looked at Sherryl closely, it seemed like they had arrived. This was another territory Sherryl had no idea of in the vast mansion of the Cross family. "True enou
Sherry Rain’s uncle, who had only just stepped inside, froze mid-step, his mouth opening but failing to form words. His expression mirrored the one her aunt, May, had worn upon seeing Sherry appear at their door, an uneasy combination of shock and guilt. They hadn’t expected her, and it was clear they had sold her. Sherry clenched her fists, questioning why she had agreed to come here, even with the gut feeling she’d had about what transpired the day she was sent to the Cross empire’s underground auction. "I don’t understand what you’re talking about, mister," her uncle, Larry, stammered, his voice faltering as Dallion shifted his cold, predatory gaze to him. Larry's throat bobbed as he gulped nervously but continued his charade. “Where have you been all this time? When we came back, you weren’t there… we assumed you ran off.” The man’s obliviousness to the barely veiled threat Dallion had issued to May earlier made his
Dallion’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his expression almost mocking. “A fair question, little mouse. Life would be dreadfully boring if I skipped the theatrics every time. There are moments when it’s necessary to walk among the shadows, to breathe in the grit of this city. Skipping steps makes you lose touch. Besides…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “I enjoy the convoy rides. It’s the perfect time to plan moves, strategize... or just reflect.” “But there are limits,” he added, his tone dropping, the shift in his demeanor palpable. “Limits?” Dallion nodded, his expression growing serious. “The Time required to satisfy my need in settling accounts is immense. Blood is the fuel for such a gift. And let’s just say…” He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming as his voice dropped to a whisper, “…finding the right accounts I need from my debtors isn’
Sherryl walked to the edge of the leather couch, sitting down as the weight of her foster uncle and aunt's betrayal bore down on her. The thought that no one she had trusted as her family could be trusted left her feeling adrift. Her father had disappeared, her mother was gone, and now the only relatives she had left had sold her out. Across the room, Dallion leaned against the marble-topped bar, his piercing gaze fixed on her. His expression, unreadable yet intense, studied her carefully. “Are you alright?” Dallion asked, swirling a glass of amber liquor in his hand. Though his voice was calm, there was an underlying sharpness, as if he already knew her answer. “I’ll be okay,” Sherryl replied, drawing in a deep, shaky breath before releasing it slowly. "People like them aren’t worth a second thought,” Dallion said, setting the glass down wi
In the time of the early morning when Sherryl Rain had woken up from her restless sleep, she felt something wet on her feet. The sensation came again, tickling her skin, and just as she was about to dismiss it as part of a dream, the cool breeze from the cracked window grazed her bare legs, making her shiver. Half-asleep, she frowned, wondering if Dallion was up to one of his strange games again. Slowly, her groggy eyes fluttered open to find him still lying next to her, his breathing steady, and his eyes closed. A sharp lick on her foot jolted her fully awake. She yanked her leg back instinctively, pulling herself closer to the headboard. Her heart raced, and her sleepy mind struggled to make sense of it. Stretching her neck cautiously to see what was causing the strange sensation, her gaze landed on a large shadowy form at the foot of the bed. Her instincts screamed danger as she scrambled back, inadvertently yanking the blanket off Dallio
When they finally returned to the Cross Empire estate, the line of luxury cars that had been parked earlier because of the party had already cleared out. It had been hours since they left, and Sherryl felt drained. True to his word, Dallion had her seated in front of a polished chessboard, its black and white pieces gleaming under the warm light of the room. He patiently explained the game to her, taking his time to go through the basics. Despite his reputation for being short-tempered, he surprised her with how thoroughly he taught her, making sure she understood the moves. He left the room briefly, and by the time he returned, Sherryl was slumped over the edge of the board, her arm stretched out and her breathing steady. Her body remained stiff, as if ready to spring awake at the slightest noise. Closing the door quietly, Dallion approached the board and began putting th
Her heart raced at the subtle challenge in his voice. Swallowing hard, she tried to move to the far edge of the car. Dallion followed, shutting the space between them with a decisive smile. The small space felt suffocating as he pulled the window curtains closed, sealing them in. Sherryl stiffened when he reached for her face, his grip firm yet deliberate. “What are you—” Her words turned into a gasp as his lips brushed her lips. Before she could react, his teeth sank into her tongue.Sherryl’s gasp turned into a muffled whimper as Dallion’s teeth grazed her tongue with a deliberate sharpness, a mixture of pleasure and pain igniting her senses. She tried to pull back instinctively, but his firm grip on her face left no room for escape. His dark eyes bore into hers, daring her to resist, daring her to push him away, but her body betrayed her.The sensation of his lips moving against hers was magnetic, each kiss deepenin