All Chapters of The Devil's Claim... His little mouse.: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sherry kept a careful distance from Dallion as the black SUV jostled over the potholed road of Bone Lake City. Every bump made her feel more trapped in this twisted life she never asked for. She longed to return to the life she once knew, yet deep down, she questioned if she ever truly had a life before. The words of a woman in the dimly lit cell echoed in her mind, casting shadows over her thoughts. Her adoptive parents had sold her, she silently cursed Uncle Larry and Aunt May for being so heartless with her, despite her efforts to help them run their small workshop.Despite her desire to believe that her relatives hadn’t sold her off to the underworld, the likelihood of it gnawed at her insides. The timing of her disappearance felt all too coincidental; it was as if fate had conspired against her. If she had been sold by those who were supposed to care for her, where could she even go now? Friends? She barely had any left. The ones she knew back in the city whi

Sherry looked up only to meet the mafia heiress dark eyes glued on her, confusion instantly clouding her features, her brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the situation. Across from her, the mafiress—who went by Grace—smirked, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I get it. That’s exactly how I felt when Dallion told me he bought a maid—you," she emphasized. The word confused didn’t even begin to capture Sherry’s emotions. Dallion hated captives. He’d made that clear. So why would he buy her off the black market? Grace leaned back casually, flipping open an ornate box and rummaging through it. "Hate?" she scoffed, "That doesn’t even cover it. He loathes them. The mere idea of a captive especially from the Bluebeard market disgusts him." She pulled out a kaleidoscope, the type Sherry had only seen at fairs in distant villages in cinemas. The colors swirled hypnotically as Grace turned it to catch the light. "So, have you two met before?" she asked, though her attention was sti

Nickison gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat at his master's question. What was he going to reply? "Answer quickly, Nickison. Don't keep me waiting here," Dallion spoke to him intimidatingly. His voice still in an even tone, never raised until now. The few years he had worked for this man in this very mansion as the butler, Nickison had not once heard him raise his voice. But maybe if he had, it would be less dangerous than the smiling expression now directed at him, sending chills through his bones. Nickison bowed deeply, hoping his master wouldn’t cut his neck off for this simple mistake. "Master Dallion, Lady Grace had the girl out of the room when I was asked to supervise the kitchen," he explained. As simple as the matter was, a lot of powerful people like Dallion didn’t leave room for mistakes. He held his breath, waiting to hear the young master of the Cross empire mansion say something.

Sherry was staring at Dallion, listening to his serious words about the plants in front of them. The topic had shifted from the weeds to the plants she had mistakenly pulled out. There was a certain earnestness in his voice, as if he had planted them himself. Narcissist, she thought. This was her punishment, but here he was, crouching next to her, though in far better condition. Her drenched clothes clung to her body, heavy with moisture, and she felt like she was freezing in the middle of winter. She glanced at his muddy hands, which were busy replanting the uprooted plant. "Did you get it?" he asked, flicking his hand across her forehead, sending specks of mud onto her nose. "Stop daydreaming and staring at me. I know I’m handsome." Narcissist man, Sherry thought again, only to see Dallion narrow his eyes as if he had heard her. Could he read her mind? She gulped when his intense gaze didn’t leave her face. "I apologize for my rudeness," she said, ducking her head, wishing his

Sherry didn't object, but neither did she make a move for a good ten seconds. Seeing Dallion with his legs parted as he sat at the edge of the king-sized bed, she wondered what to do. "I can do it myself, Dallion. You don't have to," she said, her tone careful. If there was one thing she had learned during her punishment, it was that the rain didn’t matter when you were in it, but after, when the wind blew through drenched clothes, that was the true punishment. It made her shiver violently. The storm clouds still hung outside, ominous and dark. She couldn’t afford another round in the rain, and who knew what worse torment Dallion had in store for her if she defied him? The thought alone made her feel like she was walking on glass, afraid of each step. "Rubbish. I don’t want you catching a cold. Sit." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument, while he waited with a towel in his hand. And whose fault was it? He had lef