The Devil's contract

Christabel's POV

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The day started off nice but felt weird. Still, I overlooked it as I got ready to meet Cole. It was our three-year anniversary...

I can't believe it's already been that long.

I needed to dress hot and sexy for him, so I picked out a long black satin dress and my Favorite heels. It hugged my curves perfectly-and more importantly, it was easy to take off. It had been three months since I last saw Cole due to his business trips, and I was horny as hell.

I needed him-badly. I kept fantasizing about him filling me up with his thick cock... I was already wet just thinking about it.

I was about to head out to the airport when I got a text from Cole.

Cole: "Babe, flight's delayed. I'll be a little late."

Ugh. I sighed and decided to make lunch. I'd been too excited to eat earlier.

While eating, I absentmindedly flipped through the news, not really paying attention-until a headline made me drop my fork.

"FAMOUS BILLIONAIRE WILLIAMS GATE RUSHED TO THE HOSPITAL AFTER COLLAPSING AT HIS OFFICE"

At first, I didn't believe it could be my father. He looked perfectly healthy the last time I saw him. Though, come to think of it, I hadn't actually seen him in two weeks. He'd been coming home late-sometimes not even coming home at all.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

I started to panic and called his number over and over again. No answer.

Next, I tried Johnson-my father's driver. He's been with him for over six years now. He didn't pick up at first, which only made me more anxious. After several tries, he finally answered...

They said my father had been taken to our family hospital...

When I arrived, I saw Johnson and a few of my father's business partners already there. I rushed over, my heart pounding, demanding to know what was going on-but no one had the answers I needed.

"We were told to wait here," Marcus, one of my father's closest partners, said quietly.

I broke down in tears. The thought of losing my father in the same hospital where my mother had taken her last breath twelve years ago shattered something deep inside me. All I could do was stand there and pray while the doctors tried everything, they could to stabilize him.

An hour passed-but it felt like forever.

Finally, a doctor came out to speak with us. His expression was serious.

"Your father suffered a major heart attack," he explained. "After running several tests, we also discovered signs of kidney failure-likely due to prolonged alcohol consumption."

My breath caught in my throat.

When it was time for us to see him, I went in last-I had stayed back a little longer, still discussing things with the doctor, trying to understand everything they'd found.

As I stood outside his room, I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. The steady beeping of machines greeted me, and there he was-my father.

The strongest man I knew, now lying pale and fragile, connected to wires and tubes. My heart ached at the sight.

He turned his head slowly, managing a weak smile. "Christabel..." he whispered.

"Daddy," I choked, rushing to his side. I grabbed his hand gently; afraid I might hurt him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of everything was too much. "I didn't want you to worry... I thought I could fix it before it got out of hand."

I frowned. "Fix what?"

He sighed deeply, and I saw the shame in his eyes. "The company... it's going under, sweetheart. We've been struggling for months. Investors are pulling out, demanding their money. I tried to hold it together, to protect you... but everything just kept crumbling."

My chest tightened. My father had always been the picture of strength and stability. It never occurred to me that behind all his late nights and tired eyes was a man drowning in pressure.

"You should've told me," I said softly, brushing away a tear that had slipped down his cheek-and mine. "We could've figured it out... together."

"I didn't want you to see me like this. Weak. Failing," he murmured.

"You're not failing," I said firmly, even though I didn't fully believe it myself. "You're human."

He gave a faint smile, but I could see the pain behind it-the pain of a man who had given everything and was watching it all slip away.

"I just... I just didn't want to lose everything your mother and I built."

I squeezed his hand tighter. "You still have me. That's something."

We sat there in silence for a while, the hum of machines filling the space between us. For the first time, I wasn't just his daughter-I was all he had left to lean on.

And I swore in that moment, I would do whatever it took to help him get through this.

As I sat outside my father's hospital room, numb from the news, Marcus returned.

"There's only one man who can save the company," he said.

"Let me guess," I muttered. "Another investor who wants a piece of what's left?"

Marcus hesitated, then handed me a black envelope. No name. No logo. Just a card inside.

DAVE BLACKWOOD

CEO | Blackwood Global Holdings

Everything has a price.

I frowned. "And what exactly is his price?"

Marcus looked away, almost ashamed.

"You."

I laughed-dry and hollow. "Right. Of course. Because selling your daughter is the new business model."

"He's not just interested in the company, Christabel." Marcus lowered his voice. "He's been watching your family for years."

My chest tightened. "Why?"

He looked at me.

"Ask Cole."

I froze.

"What... what does Cole have to do with this?"

But Marcus was already walking away.

I stared down at the card, the black letters burning into my skin.

Ask Cole.

Suddenly, I wasn't sure who the hell I could trust.

Christabel POV.

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The door creaked open and there he was-Cole. Tall, handsome, familiar. My safe place.

I should've run into his arms. But I didn't.

Instead, I stood frozen, my heart pounding like a war drum.

"Babe," he said, setting his suitcase down. "I got here as fast as I could. How's your dad? You okay?"

I nodded, slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I'm okay."

I wasn't.

He pulled me into a hug. Too tight. Too warm. For a moment, I let myself melt into him.

Until my phone buzzed.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Ask him about Madrid. You don't know who's watching.

My blood turned to ice.

Madrid. The place he first told me he loved me. The place I gave him all of me.

I pulled away from the hug before I could drown in it.

"You mind if I shower first?" he asked, already heading toward the bathroom.

"Sure," I said, barely above a whisper.

The moment I heard the water running, I moved.

His suitcase sat half-open by the door. I dropped to my knees beside it. Clothes. Cologne. Chargers. A neatly packed laptop.

And something else.

A sleek black folder. No markings. Just clean leather, slightly worn at the edges.

I stared at it for a second. Then opened it.

Inside-photos.

Of me.

At school. At work. Leaving my apartment. Buying coffee. At the hospital.

Everywhere.

My stomach flipped.

Then came the pages-typed, clinical, precise.

SUBJECT: CHRISTABEL WILLIAMS OBJECTIVE: OBSERVATION. EMOTIONAL INVOLVEMENT. POSITIONING.

I swallowed the rising panic.

What the hell was this?

The last page stopped me cold.

Filed for: D.B.

No name. Just initials.

But I knew.

I didn't know how. I just knew.

And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

Behind me, the shower stopped.

And then-

"You weren't supposed to see that," Cole's voice said from the hallway.

Low. Flat. Dangerous.

I turned slowly.

He was standing there, towel around his waist-dripping, calm, eyes unreadable.

And in his hand-

His phone, still lit up with a message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Plan compromised. Handle it.

I stood frozen, the folder still in my hands, while the air around us thickened like a storm about to break.

Cole's eyes locked on mine-not soft, not warm. Not the man who kissed me under the Madrid sky. This was someone else. A stranger wearing a familiar face.

He stepped forward. I stepped back.

"Christabel," he said, voice low, like a parent coaxing a frightened child. "You weren't supposed to see that."

My heart thundered in my chest. "What is this? What the hell is this, Cole? Who is D.B.?"

He didn't answer. Just stared at me like I was something fragile. Or something dangerous.

The folder slipped from my fingers, pages scattering like broken pieces of trust across the floor.

"You lied to me," I whispered. "Was any of it real?"

He hesitated.

And in that silence-I got my answer.

I turned to run.

He moved faster.

His hand caught my wrist-not rough, but tight enough to make my pulse spike.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he said. "But you need to listen to me now, Christabel. He's not going to stop."

I yanked away. "Who?! Dave Blackwood? Is that who this is about? Is he behind this?"

"Lower your voice," Cole hissed. "You don't know what he's capable of."

"Then tell me! Tell me why he's watching me. Why he's watching us."

His jaw clenched. His eyes darted to the darkened corners of the room, as if someone might be listening. "Because you matter to him. And if he thinks you're a threat, he'll erase you."

"Why would I be a threat to a man I don't even know?"

Cole exhaled, like the words cost him everything. "Because he thinks he owns you."

I felt sick. Dizzy. The walls closing in.

"Let's run," he whispered. "Tomorrow. Meet me at the train station. I'll take care of everything. Just... don't let him get to you."

He reached out, gently brushing my hair behind my ear. I flinched.

"Please," he said. "Let me fix this."

My voice shook. "You were supposed to love me."

"I do."

And then he kissed me. Soft. Desperate. Like a man clinging to the last seconds of his life.

And for a second, I kissed him back.

Then I pulled away. "Don't follow me."

I walked out, feeling like I was leaving something broken behind-and dragging the sharpest pieces with me.

The next day, I stood at the train station. Bag in hand. Heart in pieces.

The platform emptied. Minutes passed. Then an hour.

He didn't show.

My phone was silent. No messages. No calls.

Only the loudspeaker echoing departures I wouldn't take.

Then I saw him.

Not Cole.

Dave Blackwood.

He stood on the opposite platform. Hands in his pockets. Perfectly tailored coat. Calm, unreadable face.

He smiled at me.

Chills ran down my spine.

He raised a hand like he was waving hello-or goodbye.

Then he turned and walked away.

And I knew.

I was alone.

Again.