The Devil Who Claimed Me

Mila shifted in her sleep, her hand spreading across the bed. The other side was cold and empty.

She opened her eyes slowly. She expected to see Dominic beside her. There was no sign of Dominic.

A faint crease formed between her brows with doubts and confusion.

’He didn’t return last night?’

Something crossed her mind. She recalled him answering a call and leaving in a hurry.

’Has something happened?’ she couldn’t help but wonder.

A trace of unease settled in her chest. Her thoughts spiraled.

’Did something go wrong? Is he hurt?’

Then she forced herself to stop thinking about him.

"Why should I care?" she muttered under her breath.

She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

By the time she stepped out, freshly bathed and dressed, she looked calm and confident. The earlier worry vanished.

The maid was waiting outside. "Miss, breakfast is ready," she said. "Should I bring it to your room?"

Mila shook her head. "I’ll eat in the dining room."

The maid smiled. "I’ll serve it for you."

Mila paused. For a second, she simply looked at her.

It was the first time she had noticed her smile at her. It was sweet and genuine.

And the warmth in her eyes—It felt unfamiliar.

Ever since she had come here, she had only seen cold stares, cautious distance, and silent judgment. The guards had watched her like a threat. The maids had avoided her eyes.

And Valentina – that woman’s hostility was painfully clear.

Only Remy had treated her like a normal person.

And now—this maid was smiling at her.

Why? Was it because she was now Dominic’s mistress? Or was it something else?

Mila couldn’t tell. The questions unsettled her.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize when she had reached the dining hall.

"Oh... you again." The sharp voice snapped her back.

Mila looked up and saw Valentina seated at the dining table. Her expression turned cold instantly.

Valentina leaned back in her chair, her gaze scanning Mila from head to toe. "I heard you’ve become Dominic’s mistress."

The mockery in her tone was unmistakable.

Mila didn’t respond. She took a seat, completely ignoring Valentina’s presence.

That only irritated Valentina further. "You shouldn’t get carried away," she continued coldly. "Just because he is letting you stay close to him, don’t think you have achieved something, that you have gained his favor."

Mila remained silent.

Valentina’s eyes narrowed. "The last time he gave you a little freedom, what did you do?" she scoffed. "You tried to escape and hurt one of his men."

Still no response.

"If you make the same mistake again, the consequences won’t be so forgiving anymore."

Mila’s fingers tightened slightly against the table. But she didn’t look at her.

Valentina leaned forward. "This time, he might not protect you. He might throw you into the dungeon."

Mila’s eyes snapped up.

’Dungeon...’ The word echoed in her mind, making her restless.

’What kind of place is this?’ she wondered.

Maybe it was a dark, damp place. Cold. Claustrophobic, even, with creepy crawlies crawling on the ground.

Mila’s throat went dry. She didn’t want to be locked in such a place.

The flicker of fear in her eyes did not go unnoticed by Valentina.

A small smile pushed her lips upward, satisfaction filling her chest.

"You see..." she continued, "Dominic may have taken you in. But don’t misunderstand your place."

Mila’s chest tightened slightly.

"The one he truly cares about is me." Valentina lifted her arm slightly, revealing the bandage.

"He panicked when he saw I was injured. Although it was just a small cut, he made sure I got proper treatment."

She let the words linger. "He personally took me to the clinic," Valentina continued. "Stayed there the whole time."

Mila’s eyes flickered to the bandage around her arm.

"And after that..." Valentina added, "he even fulfilled my request and agreed to have drinks with me."

Each word landed deliberately.

"We went to the bar together," Valentina went on, "and got drunk."

Mila went still.

"We were together all the time." Valentina kept her eyes on Mila. "That proves how much he cares about me. How much I matter to him."

She let out a snort. "You are nothing more than a distraction, a plaything," Valentina added scornfully. "A way for him to pass the time."

Her gaze turned sharp. "He is keeping you by his side to let out his sexual frustration. That’s all. Don’t mistake it for something else.

Mila’s thoughts drifted. She realized why he had not returned to his room last night. It was because he had been with Valentina, drinking, or maybe more than that.

Mila’s breath faltered at the thought of Dominic spending the night with Valentina.

It shouldn’t matter.

She didn’t want him. She was going to leave this place anyway. Yet, something twisted painfully inside her chest.

’Of course. All men are the same.’

A bitter thought surfaced. Ethan had also cheated on her with Bianca.

That betrayal was still fresh.

And now Dominic...

A wave of disgust rose inside her. If he cared about Valentina, why bring her here? Why pull her into this world? Why made her his mistress?

Her stomach churned. Abruptly, Mila stood up. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

"Miss." The maid hurried out from the kitchen, holding a tray. "Breakfast—"

But Mila didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back. Her appetite had vanished completely. If she tried to eat, she might throw up.

The maid sighed softly, watching her leave. "Is she going on another hunger strike?" she murmured under her breath.

At the table—

Valentina picked up her glass calmly as if nothing had happened. But she couldn’t suppress the faint smile forming on her lips. A twisted sense of satisfaction settled in her.

This was the exact reaction she had expected. Her words had left their marks. Mila would always suspect Dominic. This distrust would never let them grow close.

"Madam," the maid called her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Valentina gave her a blank look.

"Miss Mila had not eaten again," the maid said anxiously. "What should I do? Shall I take the food to her room?"

Valentina’s expression turned cold. "Why are you asking me? It’s her choice. I can’t shove the food inside her mouth."

She slammed the glass down forcefully, water spilling over the edge. Then she stood up and left.

The maid blinked, confused and terrified at the same time. "Didn’t she tell us to report everything about Miss Mila to her and not to bother Mr. Russo?"