Chapter 10 Who is a good girl

"What did you just say?" Megan's voice cracked the air like thunder.

Her feet stormed across the floor, her eyes wild with disbelief. She didn't wait for Jude to respond. Her hands were already on his collar, yanking him forward.

"You want to run that by me again?" she snapped, shoving him back against the wall so hard the framed photo of their wedding shook above his shoulder. "Say it again, Jude. I dare you!"

Jude's lips trembled. His eyes, glassy with guilt, refused to meet hers.

"I..." he swallowed. "Seraphina isn't our biological daughter."

Megan staggered back like she'd been shot.

"No. No. That's not possible. I carried her-I carried her for nine months! I went through labor for twelve goddamn hours! What the hell do you mean she's not our child?!"

Jude didn't answer.

Megan's chest heaved as tears raced down her face. She let out a strangled cry and slapped him-hard. His head whipped to the side from the force.

"You fucking liar!" she screamed. "You wait until she's been taken by the devil himself to say this?! When she's probably bleeding out somewhere?! When she might already be dead?!"

"Megan, please," Jude muttered, holding his cheek. "Let me explain. I didn't want to tell you like this-"

"Save it!" she roared, her eyes red. "You know what? I don't care if she came out of me or not. I raised her. I held her through her nightmares. I kissed her scraped knees. I fed her when we had no food left. SHE. IS. MY. DAUGHTER."

She stormed past him, barefoot, her tears soaking into the carpet.

Jude stood alone in the hallway, shoulders sagging under the weight of secrets.

He pressed a hand to his face, breathing heavily.

"God... Please keep her safe," he whispered.

Dante's Mansion

Seraphina sat still on the bed.

The pain in her shoulder where the IV had torn loose was nothing compared to the chaos inside her chest.

Her mind replayed Dante's words, his threats, his twisted logic - and worse, the cryptic warning about her father. Not your father.

Suddenly, a television that she had no idea of its presence - sleek, mounted into the wall - snapped on with a sudden surge of static.

The footage it displayed sent ice shooting through her veins. Her parents' apartment. Again. This time, the men surrounding the building were armed. Not just surrounding - they were moving in.

Seraphina screamed.

"No-no no no no!" she sobbed, staggering forward, holding her bleeding hand. "Dante, you fucking bastard! You already took Nate! Now you want to kill them?!"

She collapsed to her knees.

Tears fell freely, hot and relentless, splattering onto the cold marble floor. Then, with trembling fists, she swore silently to herself, "I will escape amd when I do, I will get my revenge. I will burn Dante's empire to the ground."

But her thoughts were interrupted when the massive door creaked open.

Dante entered - trailed by two women.

One had sleek blonde hair tied in a tight braid that reached her waist. The other had jet-black hair in a sharp bob and the kind of dead eyes that made you shiver. They walked like soldiers. No smiles. No blinking.

Their very presence suffocated the air. Dante, however, looked annoyed. His eyes flicked to Seraphina's cowering form. He took out his phone and typed something with slow, deliberate fingers.

Seraphina barely had time to scream when the live footage changed. The men at her parents' apartment stormed in.

Gunfire. Screams. Shattering glass. She shrieked, crawling to the TV. "MOM! DAD!"

She thrashed and kicked. Her bare feet scraped against the marble floor. She pounded the screen as if she could crawl through it.

"DANTE! MAKE THEM STOP!" she screamed, her voice raw.

Dante sat on a leather couch across the room.

Unbothered.

He lit a cigarette, his eyes glowing like embers.

"Actions," he said lazily, "have consequences."

Seraphina's body moved on instinct.

She crawled to him - bleeding, broken, breathless - her voice shredded from crying.

Her mother's scream echoed in the room, followed by a sharp blast. Her father's voice yelled something unintelligible.

Seraphina sobbed.

"Please... please... make them stop. I'll do anything. Please. You already killed Nate. Please spare them..."

Dante exhaled smoke, watching it curl like a serpent into the air.

"Anything?" he asked softly.

Seraphina nodded, her hands clasped in front of her, trembling like autumn leaves in a storm.

"I'll be your woman," she whispered.

Dante's lips curled into a grin.

"There it is."

He turned to the blonde woman beside him.

"Leona."

Leona stepped forward and reached into her jacket. From inside, she pulled out a sleek black collar. Leather. Studded. No tag. Just cold authority.

Seraphina's heart stopped.

"What... what's that?" she stammered.

Dante stood and walked toward her. Each step echoed like a gavel in a courtroom.

"This," he said, "is your new reality."

He motioned for her to come closer.

Seraphina hesitated - but her parents' screams rang in her mind.

So she moved.

She crawled.

On her knees.

And sat still before him.

"As long as you're obedient," Dante said, running a hand through her hair, "they'll stay alive. You misstep, they die. It's that simple."

Her throat burned, but she forced a nod.

He knelt beside her and slowly wrapped the collar around her neck.

Tight.

Claimed.

He clicked it shut.

A hollow snap.

"There," he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She didn't respond.

Tears leaked from her eyes, but her face was stone.

Dante patted her head mockingly.

"Who's a good girl?"

Seraphina didn't answer.

She wanted to kill him.

But she whispered, "I am."