The Devil Who Claimed Me

The guard brought Mila to the study. He nodded to the closed door.

"He is inside."

Mila’s heart raced. She took a slow breath, then pushed the door open and stepped in.

Inside, she found Dominic standing by the window, a cigarette between his fingers. His back faced her, his tall frame rigid, unmoving.

Her gaze followed the direction he was looking and landed on the clinic building in the distance.

A faint chill ran down her spine. ’Is he watching me from here?’

"You finally decided to show your face," he grunted but didn’t turn to her.

Mila flinched at his sharp tone. She took a moment to steady her breathing. "I was in the clinic."

"As my personal maid, you should have served me first," he muttered, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray. "But you disappeared."

Then he turned. His dark eyes locked onto her instantly.

"You didn’t come to check if I needed anything. You didn’t serve me breakfast." His gaze hardened further. "And what about washing my clothes? Ironing them?"

Mila gaped at him, stunned. She didn’t know she had to do all this as well. She thought she would only have to serve him at night.

"But you didn’t tell me," she pointed out.

"What? Do I have to tell you what a maid’s job is?" he grumbled contemptuously. "As my personal maid, your first responsibility is to serve me. Everything else comes after."

She swallowed but said nothing.

Dominic walked to his chair and sat down. "Since you didn’t fulfill your duty, you will be punished."

Mila’s heart sank. She thought he would lock her up again. She wanted to apologize, but his next words caught her off guard.

"You will clean the pool and the surrounding area," he ordered. "The benches should be spotless. No dust."

He continued without pause. "The old towels should be washed. Fresh ones should be arranged properly."

Mila blinked. Her jaw slowly fell open. "You want me to clean the pool?"

"What?" He tilted his head. "Have you forgotten what I told you? You will do whatever I say. Without question."

Mila held his gaze for a second longer. Then she exhaled slowly. There was no point in arguing.

"Fine. I’ll do it."

She turned to leave.

"Wait." His voice stopped her mid-step.

Mila didn’t turn immediately.

"Once you are done," he continued, "prepare a suit for me."

She looked back at him.

"I’m having dinner with Mr. Lee."

A spark flickered in her eyes.

’Dinner with Mr. Lee?’ Her mind instantly began to race. ’They might be finalizing the deal...’

This was an important update. Maybe it would be useful to Marco.

She masked her thoughts quickly and gave a small nod. "I understand," she said. "Your suit will be ready in time."

She strode away.

The guard was still standing outside.

"Take me to the pool," she said. "Mr. Russo’s order."

The guard inclined his head. "Come this way."

Mila followed him silently.

The guard led Mila up a private elevator that opened directly onto the top floor.

The moment the doors slid open, Mila froze.

Before her stretched a vast rooftop pool area, which resembled a luxury resort suspended above the island.

The pool was enormous, its water clear, which reflected the sky like glass. Soft ripples danced across the surface as the breeze brushed over it.

Around the pool were lounge chairs with plush cushions, neatly arranged under large white umbrellas. A few wooden benches sat farther back, paired with low glass tables.

To one side stood a fully enclosed glass shower room. Next to it was a spacious changing area.

Mila’s breath caught. ’Is this just a pool?’

She felt like she had stepped into a luxurious resort.

For a moment, she simply stood there, looking around in awe, forgetting about why she was there.

The sheer scale of Dominic’s world—his wealth, his power—pressed down on her again. It seemed endless, suffocating.

"Start working," the guard’s voice snapped her out of it.

Mila swallowed and nodded. She stepped forward and picked up the cleaning tools placed nearby.

At first, she hesitated. She had never done anything like this before. Her hands, used to holding medical instruments, now gripped a long brush.

But she didn’t complain.

She knelt beside the pool and began scrubbing the edges, her movements stiff and unfamiliar.

The marble surface was smooth, but the guard kept telling her to scrub harder.

The sun was high above, its heat slowly settling onto her skin. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked.

Minutes turned into an hour.

Her arms began to ache. Still, she didn’t stop.

She moved from one corner to another, cleaning every inch as instructed. Then she skimmed the surface of the pool, making sure the water looked pristine.

After that, she turned to the seating area.

She wiped down each bench, dusting every surface. Then she polished the glass tables.

Her back hurt from bending repeatedly. Her breathing grew heavier. But she continued working nonstop.

Next came the towels.

She gathered the used ones and carried them to the washing area. She scrubbed the fabric clean.

The rough motion caused her skin to redden. By the time she wrung out the last towel, her fingers felt sore and strained.

She replaced them with fresh ones, folding each neatly and arranging them beside the lounge chairs.

Finally, she was done. The entire rooftop looked flawless.

But she was messy. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. Her arms trembled slightly from exhaustion. Red marks had formed on her palms. Her skin was irritated from constant friction.

She lowered herself onto one of the benches for a brief second, breathing heavily. Her entire body ached.

"What are you doing?" the guard snapped, jolting her upright. "Go and prepare the boss’s suit."

Mila’s hands shook. Her stomach growled. "I worked all afternoon. I haven’t eaten anything. Let me eat first."

"Didn’t you hear what I said? Go and prepare the suit. The boss can’t be delayed for the meeting."

Mila couldn’t defy him. She had no right to question. She couldn’t say no.

"Fine. I’ll do it."

She headed to Dominic’s room.

The guard stayed outside the room, while Mila stepped in.

She went straight to the walk-in closet.

Rows of suits hung neatly. Her gaze swept across them. Almost all of them were black.

Mila’s fingers lightly brushed against the sleeves.

Among them, two stood out—one grey and the other white.

Her eyes lingered on the white suit.

She had never seen him wear anything but black. That darkness suited him, matched his cold, commanding presence.

She picked the white one. ’I think this will go well for tonight’s dinner.’

She turned and placed it carefully aside before moving to the drawer.

Sliding it open, she found rows of ties. Each one looked expensive and refined.

She took the navy blue one. "This will fit perfectly."

Just as she was about to close the drawer, something caught her attention.

Tucked in the far corner, almost hidden behind the neatly arranged ties, was a purse, old and worn out.

It looked completely out of place among these expensive, curated items.

Mila frowned slightly. Why would he keep something like this?

Curiosity crept in. She hesitated only for a second before picking it up.

The leather was soft with age, the edges slightly frayed. Slowly, she opened it.

Inside, there was a small, old photograph of a woman.

The photo was slightly faded, but the features were still visible.

Her brows drew closer.

"Who is she...?" Mila whispered under her breath.

"Don’t touch it."

The voice struck like thunder.

Mila gasped, startled.

The next moment, the purse was yanked out of her hands.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned.

Dominic stood there. And the air in the room instantly turned cold.