The Devil Who Claimed Me

Morning came quietly. Mila opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. She didn’t move.

It was too silent. There was no shouting, no chaos like last night. Everything seemed calm. But her heart was racing with restless energies.

This stillness didn’t bring peace. She felt trapped, suffocated. She had no desire to get out of bed, no appetite, no motivation to plan an escape. It seemed as if even her determination felt tired.

A knock came at the door.

Mila turned her head slightly and saw a maid entering. She simply looked away.

"Miss, are you awake?" the maid asked.

Mila didn’t respond. Her face went still, empty and cold.

"Please wash up. Breakfast is ready." She put a set of fresh clothes neatly on the table. "I brought these for you."

Mila didn’t even look at her. She didn’t care what she had brought. She didn’t show any sign of getting out of bed and going to the bathroom.

"Mr. Russo is waiting for you in the dining hall," the maid added politely. "Please be quick."

Mila shifted her gaze to her. When she heard his name, something tightened in her chest.

"I’m not hungry," she finally opened her mouth, her tone flat. "Tell him not to wait."

The maid hesitated. "Sir asked that you come downstairs."

It sounded awkward.

Mila frowned at her. "Downstairs?" she repeated with disbelief.

That didn’t make sense.

Until now, she had been confined to this room. Her food had been delivered to her as if she were some kind of prisoner. She wasn’t allowed to go out of the room without his permission. But today, he asked her to go downstairs.

She recalled the armed men roaming around the large hall and felt chills crawling up her spine.

’What is he up to? Is this because of last night?’

She thought he was going to punish her for slapping him.

"Food won’t be served in your room anymore," the maid replied. "You are to have your meals in the dining area from now on."

"What?" Mila sat up abruptly, stunned.

"Yes, you can go out of the room," said the maid. "But be quick. Mr. Russo doesn’t like waiting."

Something shifted in Mila’s eyes. She didn’t have to be confined to the room anymore.

"Fine."

She got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. After freshening up quickly, she put on the fresh clothes and stepped out of the room.

She paused, surprise crossing her face. There were no guards outside her room, only the same maid stood there, waiting for her.

’So he changed the rules!’ Mila’s brows knitted together in confusion and disbelief. ’Interesting. I need to find out what he has on his mind.’

She was curious, but her expression remained blank.

"This way." The maid gestured gently.

Mila followed her to the ground floor. Her eyes moved, observing everything.

The corridor stretched open. Men in black suits were stationed at intervals, their sharp eyes tracking her every step.

Mila’s stomach knotted under their watchful gaze. She lowered her head as she followed the maid.

The dining hall door opened.

"Miss, please go in." The maid ushered her inside.

Mila stopped as soon as she entered. For a moment, surprise flickered in her eyes.

The room was vast. A long, polished dining table stretched across the center, large enough to seat a dozen people. Tall windows lined on one side, letting in the morning light, illuminating everything inside.

Freshly baked bread, golden croissants, eggs, sausages, pancakes, bowls of cut fruits, juice, and coffee filled the table. It was a full spread, too much for just two people.

Mila’s fingers twisted slightly at her sides when her eyes settled on Dominic, seated at the head of the table.

He was calm and composed, as if nothing had happened last night. Their eyes are men. Something flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, then vanished.

"Sit." He used his commanding tone.

Mila pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. She didn’t argue like last night. She didn’t show any resistance. Her face remained expressionless.

Dominic watched her longer than necessary. "You won’t be locked in your room anymore. You can move around the house. No guards will follow you."

Mila didn’t react, but she was listening.

"The backyard garden is open to you." His tone hardened slightly as he spoke the next sentence. "But you don’t go beyond the gate. Don’t even try. If you do, you lose the freedom."

"I understand," Mila said. Her tone gave nothing away.

That unsettled him more than her screaming ever had. Dominic held her gaze, trying to understand what she had on her mind. But there was nothing.

It seemed as if she had created an invisible wall between them, hiding all her thoughts from him.

He stood up, pushing his chair back. "I have work."

With that, he left.

The moment he walked out of the room, Mila exhaled. It was only at that moment that she realized she had not been breathing properly.

She wasn’t relieved fully, but still she felt at ease. ’At least, I won’t be locked in that room,’ she mumbled to herself.

Her gaze drifted outside the window. She remembered seeing the sea.

’If I can go there, I’ll find a way out.’

She believed she would find someone or something that could help her. ’I’ll get out of here, no matter what it takes.’

She picked up a slice of toast and spread a thin layer of butter over it. Then she took a boiled egg from the tray, cracked it against the edge of her plate, and peeled it. She added a few slices of fruits in her plate and started eating.

"Oh, well. Look who is here." A sharp voice cut through the silence.

Mila looked up and saw Valentina approaching.

"So he finally gave you a little freedom."

Mila didn’t respond. She kept eating, as if Valentina didn’t exist.

That silence and her unbothered expression irritated Valentina. She wanted some reaction from her. She pulled out a chair and sat beside her. Then she deliberately put her gun and knife on the table.

Mila paused, her eyes flickering to the weapons. A flash of fear crossed her face. But she hid it under a controlled expression. Her fingers tightened around the toast more than necessary to stop them from shaking.

She pretended to be calm, but Valentina noticed the faint tremor of her hands.

A slow smile curled her lips as she picked up a pancake, poured syrup over it, and cut into it.

"You shouldn’t misunderstand this little freedom," she said, taking a bite. "It’s not a reward. It’s his way to test you." She glanced at her. "He is watching you."