Chapter 4 The Devil Know

The city didn't look real anymore.

I watched it blur past the tinted window of the black SUV, every skyscraper and crosswalk warping like I was seeing it from underwater. My fingers were clenched tight in my lap. I couldn't feel them.

Last night hadn't ended. It had just shifted into this slow-motion nightmare.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. I hadn't even cried after I saw the photo.

Cole. Gone.

Murdered.

The picture had been slipped under my hotel door, neat and quiet like a message from death itself.

His body twisted in some nameless alley, blood painting the concrete beneath him. And underneath it, those five words, clean and final:

Actions have consequences. -D.B.

I wanted to scream. But there was nothing left inside me but silence.

The car slowed.

My eyes snapped to the building ahead-towering glass and steel, carved straight into the sky. No signage. No welcome. Just power in physical form.

My hands shook as I stepped out.

I didn't need to be told who was waiting for me at the top.

I already knew.

Penthouse suite.

The door opened before I could knock.

And there he was.

Dave Blackwood.

Tall. Impeccable. Understated power wrapped in tailored charcoal gray. No guards. No entourage. Just him-and the weight of the room seemed to bend around him.

"Christabel," he said, his voice smooth as lacquered silk. "You're exactly as I remember. Only sharper."

I didn't move. Didn't speak.

He gestured to the table, where tea was already poured, steam curling like ghosts. I didn't sit.

"Why?" I asked.

Dave smiled-not the kind you trust. The kind you survive.

"Because I couldn't allow him to interfere anymore. Cole was a... detour."

"You had him killed."

"He made a choice. And so did you, the moment you opened that folder."

My voice cracked. "He loved me."

Dave stepped closer, his presence swallowing the space between us.

"No," he said gently. "He feared me. And maybe, in some twisted way, he hoped loving you would save him. It never could."

I trembled, but I stayed rooted.

"What do you want from me?"

He paused, like he was savouring the moment.

"Not what," he said. "Who."

I blinked.

"You intrigue me, Christabel. From the first moment your father begged me for money, I knew there was something exceptional about you. A girl raised in ruins who still stood tall. I watched you fight. I watched you break. But you never begged."

He circled me, not touching, but close enough to steal my breath.

"I admire that. I don't fall in love, Christabel. I choose. And I choose you."

My breath hitched.

"You think this is love? This obsession?"

"Love is many things. But always, it is power. Control. You make me feel alive. Doesn't that mean something?"

I laughed-sharp and bitter.

"You're insane."

"Perhaps," he said with a shrug. "But what matters is that I win. And I always do."

He turned to the table. A leather folder rested beside the tea tray. The same kind I'd found in Cole's bag.

He opened it. Slid it toward me.

"My father's debts. Cleared. My name? Clean. A new life. All you want is one thing in return."

He didn't blink. "I want you to be mine. Publicly. Permanently."

"Why me? You could have anyone."

His gaze flickered-just for a second-and something darker passed beneath.

"Because the world will never expect it. Because having you means I've taken back control. Because no one else burns like you do."

I shook my head. "You don't want a wife. You want ownership."

"Semantics."

He poured tea. Still hot.

"You can walk out of here," he said softly. "But you'll have nothing. And no one. And I'll find someone else to take your father's place. Maybe that pretty intern at his office. What's her name again? Jessica?"

My stomach dropped.

Dave smiled, sipping his drink. "Choices, Christabel. They define us."

I stared at the contract. My hands moved before my brain could protest.

I signed.

The pen clicked.

Silence.

Dave stepped forward. Tilted my chin up. His kiss was slow. Soft. Empty.

"Welcome to the family," he whispered.

---

Later, I stood alone by the window, city lights blinking like a hundred tiny lies.

Somewhere out there, Cole was gone. My father was in a hospital bed. And I had just promised myself to a monster with perfect teeth.

But there were no more options.

No more hope.

Only survival.

The contract lay behind me.

I touched the glass, watched my reflection blur with the night.

"Is this survival," I whispered, "or surrender?"

The city didn't answer.

The pen was still warm in my hands.