SIGNED TO THE DEVIL

"THIRD PERSON'S POV" “Sometimes the most dangerous contracts aren’t signed with ink… they’re signed with the heart.” The morning sun spilled through the faded curtains of the Vale apartment, painting thin golden lines across the worn wooden floor. It was a beautiful morning, but beauty had never paid bills. Selene Hart sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the university acceptance letter pinned to the wall above her desk. It was old now, the corners curled from time, yet it still reminded her why she refused to give up. One more year. One more year, and she would graduate. One more year, and maybe life would finally become kinder. A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. “Selene?” her father’s warm voice called from outside. “Breakfast is getting cold.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I’m coming.” She slipped into a simple cream sweater and dark jeans before tying her chestnut-brown hair into a loose ponytail. Her gray eyes looked tired from another sleepless night, but she forced herself to smile anyway. Her father hated seeing her worried. The apartment was small—barely enough for two people—but every corner carried memories she treasured. The old family photographs, the bookshelf her father had built with his own hands, and the tiny dining table where they shared every meal reminded her that home wasn’t measured by luxury. It was measured by love. “Sit,” her father, Adrian Hart, said with a grin as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of her. “You made pancakes?” “I was trying to impress my daughter.” She laughed softly. “I think you’re twenty years too late.” He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “You wound me.” For a brief moment, the weight on both their shoulders disappeared. Then she noticed it. His smile never reached his eyes. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he poured coffee into his mug. His phone lay face down on the table, vibrating every few seconds. He ignored every call. Selene frowned. “Dad… are you okay?” “I’m perfectly fine.” “Liar.” He chuckled. “I raised you too well.” She leaned closer. “You’ve been distracted for weeks.” “It’s work.” “You’ve said that every day.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently. “Some problems belong to adults.” “I’m eighteen.” “You’ll always be eight to me.” She sighed dramatically. “I knew you’d say that.” He smiled again. This time it looked forced. Very forced. University was the only place where Selene could pretend everything was normal. Students hurried between lecture halls while friends laughed over coffee, completely unaware that someone somewhere was always fighting invisible battles. Her best friend, Nora Bennett, immediately noticed something was wrong. “You didn’t sleep.” “I did.” “For two minutes?” Selene rolled her eyes. “I slept.” Nora folded her arms. “You always scratch your thumb when you’re stressed.” Selene immediately stopped. “I hate that you know me so well.” “I’ve earned the right.” The two girls laughed as they continued toward their lecture. Still… The uneasy feeling never left Selene. She couldn’t explain it. It felt like someone was watching her. Not a passing glance. Not curiosity. Something heavier. Something calculating. When she turned around, she saw nothing except students disappearing into the crowd. Maybe she was imagining things. Miles away, inside the highest floor of Dureux Tower, imagination did not exist. Everything was planned. Everything was calculated. Everything belonged to one man. Lucien Devereaux The city stretched beneath him like a kingdom waiting for its ruler’s command. Tall. Impeccably dressed in a black tailored suit. Cold blue eyes. Not handsome in a gentle way. Handsome in the kind of way that made people lower their voices when he entered a room. He stood before the glass wall overlooking the city while five men occupied the conference room behind him. They weren’t business partners. They were the High Table. The men who controlled an empire that never appeared on paper. Money. Politics. Influence. Secrets. Nothing moved without one of them knowing. One of the men placed a file on the polished table. “It’s Adrian Hart.” Lucien didn’t turn around. “Debt?” “Three years.” “Payment?” “Impossible.” Another man spoke. “He hid something before disappearing from the organization.” Silence. Lucien finally turned. His gaze was calm. Too calm. “Family?” “A daughter.” A photograph slid across the table. Selene Hart. Lucien studied the picture for only a second. Beautiful. Young. Completely unaware of the world waiting for her. “Bring Adrian to me.” “And the daughter?” Lucien’s expression never changed. “If he refuses…” He closed the file. “…she becomes the payment.” The room fell silent. No one questioned him. No one ever did. That evening, Selene returned home carrying groceries. “Dad?” No answer. She walked farther inside. The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light. Her father stood near the sink, staring out of the window. His shoulders looked heavier than she’d ever seen them. “You forgot to turn the lights on.” He turned quickly, forcing another smile. “Lost in thought.” She walked over and hugged him without saying a word. For a moment, he simply held her. As though he were trying to memorize the feeling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She pulled back. “For what?” He looked away. “For everything.” Before she could ask what he meant— A loud knock echoed through the apartment. Once. Twice. Three times. Not the polite knock of a visitor. The sharp, deliberate knock of people who expected the door to open. Her father’s face lost all color. Another knock followed. Harder this time. Then a deep voice came through the door. “Mr. Hart.” A pause. “Your time is up.” Adrian looked at Selene with fear she had never seen before. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Whatever happens…” He swallowed. “…don’t come out.” He walked toward the door. Selene’s heart pounded as the lock clicked open.