CHAPTER 3
792 Words
THE DEVIL COMES CALLING
The Ashcroft Mansion had never felt so quiet.
Clara stood by the kitchen window, absently stirring her coffee as the morning sun filtered through the curtains. Her father had barely spoken since the night before. He hadn’t touched breakfast. He hadn’t even looked her in the eyes.
Something was wrong.
“Dad?”
He looked up from the newspaper, though she noticed he hadn’t turned a page.
“Hm?”
“You’ve been acting strange.”
“I’m just tired.”
She folded her arms. “You’ve said that three times.”
Before he could answer, the sharp growl of engines echoed through the estate.
One car.
Then another.
Then another.
Clara frowned and walked towards the front window.
Six black luxury cars rolled through the gates in perfect formation. They stopped at the front entrance, and men in black suits stepped out first, each standing like a soldier, scanning the surroundings.
Then the rear door of the last car opened.
A pair of polished black shoes touched the ground.
Lucien Moretti.
Even from a distance, he carried himself with effortless authority. He didn’t rush; he didn’t need to. The world always seemed to slow down for him.
Clara turned sharply towards her father.
“Who is that?”
Her father’s face turned pale.
“…Stay inside.”
“What?”
“I said stay inside. Now!”
But it was too late. The front door opened.
Lucien entered as though he belonged there. The bodyguards remained outside.
He came alone.
His emerald eyes swept across the room before settling on Albert.
“Mr. Ashcroft.”
Albert stood immediately.
“Mr. Moretti.”
The respect in his father’s voice made Clara’s stomach twist.
Respect…
Or fear?
Lucien’s gaze shifted to her.
For one suspended heartbeat…
Neither of them spoke.
She expected cruelty. Instead, he simply observed her, as though comparing the woman before him to a memory only he possessed.
His deep voice finally broke the silence.
“So… This is Clara.”
She lifted her chin.
“And you must be the Devil.”
The room froze.
Her father’s eyes widened.
“Clara!”
Lucien didn’t react. Not with anger. Not with amusement. A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“I have been called worse.”
She stepped closer.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because men who destroy families deserve worse.”
Her father closed his eyes.
“Please…”
Lucien ignored him, keeping his attention on Clara.
“And what family did I destroy?”
She laughed bitterly.
“The one standing right in front of you.”
A long silence followed. Neither looked away. It felt less like a conversation and more like two people testing who would blink first.
Finally, Lucien spoke.
“I came to discuss your future.”
“My future?”
“Yes.”
She looked between him and her father. Confusion replaced anger.
“What does my future have to do with you?”
Her father lowered his head.
Lucien answered before he could.
“In one month… you’ll become my wife.”
The words landed like thunder.
Clara blinked once, then laughed.
A short, disbelieving laugh.
“That’s funny.”
No one else laughed.
Her smile slowly disappeared as she looked at her father.
“Dad…”
He couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Dad…”
Silence.
She turned back to Lucien.
“Tell me this is some sick joke.”
“It isn’t.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You’ll.”
“I’d rather die.”
Lucien’s expression didn’t change.
“I hope you change your mind.”
She marched towards him until only inches separated them.
“You don’t get to decide my life.”
His eyes held hers without wavering.
“No. They’re your father’s decisions.”
She spun towards Albert.
“What is he talking about?”
Her father finally looked at her. Tears shimmered in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Those two words broke something inside her.
She looked back at Lucien, fury burning in her chest.
“I will never forgive you.”
For the first time since entering the house, Lucien’s calm facade cracked. Just for a second, something almost like regret flashed across his face.
Then it was gone.
He reached into his jacket and placed a small velvet box on the table.
“A gift.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“You can dispose of it whenever you want.”
He walked towards the door without looking back. His bodyguards immediately fell into formation, and the convoy disappeared beyond the gates.
Inside the house…
Silence.
Clara slowly turned toward her father.
“What have you done?”
- Writer
