The Devils Game

Chapter 3: The devils cost

"Especially not me."

The words stayed in the room long after Damon stopped speaking.

I stared at him, waiting for the familiar arrogance to return.

It didn't.

For once, Damon looked genuinely afraid.

And that frightened me more than anything else.

I looked down at the photograph in my hand.

Three words.

SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

My fingers tightened around the edges.

"Tell me everything."

Damon didn't answer.

"Damon."

He walked toward the window and stared into the darkness beyond the glass.

"I don't know where to begin."

"Try the beginning."

He exhaled slowly.

"Your father wasn't the only person investigating me."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Three months before his death, he contacted someone."

"Who?"

"I never found out."

"You just said you knew everything."

"I said I thought I did."

He turned toward me.

"Your father had discovered something about my business. Something bigger than the companies, the money, and the people he'd already uncovered."

"What?"

"A network."

The word settled heavily between us.

"What kind of network?"

"People who move money. Information. People."

I stared at him.

"And my father found them?"

"He found evidence of them."

"Then why did he die?"

"Because he was getting too close."

My pulse quickened.

"You said you killed him."

"I thought I did."

"What does that mean?"

Damon's jaw tightened.

"The night your father died, I went to confront him. We argued. Things got out of control."

"You murdered him."

"I believed I had."

My stomach turned.

"What happened?"

"By the time I left, he was unconscious."

"And your mother?"

"She was there."

I froze.

"You said she disappeared."

"She wasn't supposed to be there."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying again."

"I'm not."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Look."

He opened a photograph.

It was old. Grainy. Taken from a distance.

A woman stood beside a black car.

My heart stopped.

Even after all these years, I recognized her.

My mother.

She was alive.

And she was looking directly at the camera.

"Where did you get this?"

"Three years ago."

"Three years?"

"I found it in an encrypted file."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know who had taken it."

I looked closer.

There was something in the background.

A building.

A sign above the entrance.

SAINT ORCHARD CHILDREN'S HOME.

My blood ran cold.

"What's that?"

"I don't know."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to understand that someone has been hiding information from both of us."

A small voice came from behind us.

"Daddy?"

We turned.

Evangeline stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

I immediately crouched beside her.

"Hey, baby. You should be sleeping."

She looked at Damon.

"Why are you both awake?"

"Just talking," he said.

She looked at the photograph in my hand.

"Who's that?"

I hesitated.

Damon didn't.

"Someone from your mother's past."

Evangeline studied the photograph.

Then her face changed.

"I've seen her."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

She pointed at the woman.

"Her."

I stared at her.

"Where?"

"In the garden."

Damon went completely still.

"When?"

"Sometimes."

My voice barely worked.

"What does she do?"

Evangeline shrugged.

"She watches the house."

Damon crossed the room.

"Evangeline, have you spoken to her?"

"No."

"Has she ever come inside?"

She shook her head.

"She just stands near the trees."

"When?"

"Sometimes at night."

A cold silence filled the room.

Damon looked at me.

"We're leaving."

"Where?"

"Somewhere safe."

I shook my head.

"No."

"Aria."

"I'm not running."

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly."

I held up the photograph.

"For six years, I've been running from ghosts. I'm done."

Damon stared at me.

Then the lights came back on.

Every light in the estate flickered simultaneously.

Once.

Twice.

Then stabilized.

A phone began ringing downstairs.

Damon's phone wasn't ringing.

Neither was mine.

We looked at each other.

The ringing continued.

I followed him downstairs.

The sound was coming from the study.

Damon opened the door.

An old telephone sat on his desk.

I had never seen it before.

It rang again.

He picked it up.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

Then a woman's voice came through.

"You're finally looking in the right place."

Damon's face drained of color.

"Who is this?"

The woman laughed softly.

"Still pretending you don't know?"

His grip tightened around the phone.

"Where are you?"

"Closer than you think."

I stepped forward.

"Who are you?"

Silence.

Then the woman answered.

"Hello, Aria."

My heart stopped.

She knew my name.

"You've grown into your mother's face."

I couldn't breathe.

"Who are you?"

"You already know."

The line went dead.

Damon slammed the phone down.

I stared at him.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know."

"You're becoming predictable."

"I don't know."

"She knew my mother."

Damon said nothing.

"She knew me."

Still nothing.

"Damon."

He looked at me.

"That wasn't a random call."

"No."

"She wanted us to hear her."

"Yes."

"Why?"

His expression darkened.

"Because she wants us to find something."

"What?"

"I don't know."

I turned toward the desk.

"Then let's find out."

---

The study became a battlefield.

Files covered the floor.

Drawers were emptied.

Books were pulled from shelves.

Damon searched through old records while I went through every document connected to my father.

Hours passed.

Nothing.

Then I found a small envelope hidden inside the back cover of an old book.

My name was written on it.

ARIA.

My hands went cold.

"Damon."

He turned.

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single photograph.

My father.

My mother.

And a little girl.

Me.

But that wasn't what frightened me.

On the back, someone had written:

THE GIRL WAS NEVER THE TARGET.

I looked at Damon.

"What does this mean?"

He took the photograph.

His expression changed.

"What?"

He pointed to the little girl.

"Look at the background."

I did.

There was a man standing behind my parents.

I didn't recognize him.

Damon did.

"Who is that?"

His voice was barely audible.

"My father."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"My father."

"The man died before you met me."

"Exactly."

The room seemed to tilt.

"Then how is he in this photograph?"

Damon didn't answer.

I looked again.

The photograph was dated six years after Damon's father supposedly died.

Impossible.

Unless the entire story we'd been told was a lie.

A floorboard creaked behind us.

We spun around.

Nothing.

Then something slid beneath the study door.

A white envelope.

Damon approached it.

"Don't."

He stopped.

I picked it up.

Inside was a piece of paper.

Only one sentence.

COME TO SAINT ORCHARD BEFORE DAWN. COME ALONE.

Underneath it was another photograph.

This time, it showed my mother.

She was standing outside Saint Orchard Children's Home.

And beside her stood Evangeline.

Three years old.

My daughter.

I couldn't breathe.

"That's impossible."

Damon grabbed the photograph.

His face went white.

"Where did they get this?"

I looked at him.

"You knew about this place."

"Not about this."

"Then we're going."

"No."

I stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard the message. Come alone."

"I don't care."

"It's a trap."

"Probably."

"Then you're not going."

I stepped closer.

"She's my daughter."

"And you're her mother."

"Exactly."

"I won't let you walk into a trap."

I stared at him.

"Six years ago, you made decisions for me."

His face hardened.

"You kept my daughter from me."

"I know."

"You decided what I could know."

"I know."

"You decided what was best for me."

"I know."

"You're not doing it again."

Silence.

Then Evangeline appeared at the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

I looked at her.

I didn't have an answer.

She walked toward me and slipped her hand into mine.

"Don't go somewhere scary."

I squeezed her fingers.

"I'll be back."

She looked at Damon.

"Promise?"

He looked at me.

Then at her.

"I promise."

---

We left before dawn.

Not alone.

Damon insisted on following me despite my protests, and I eventually stopped arguing.

The road to Saint Orchard was empty.

Mist covered the fields.

The building appeared just before sunrise.

It was abandoned.

Windows broken.

Walls covered in vines.

The sign above the entrance was barely visible.

Saint Orchard Children's Home.

I stepped out of the car.

Damon grabbed my arm.

"Wait."

I looked at him.

"What?"

He pointed.

A light was glowing inside the building.

Someone was there.

We entered.

The hallway smelled of dust and old paper.

Children's drawings still covered the walls.

Some were decades old.

Others looked recent.

I stopped.

One drawing showed a little girl holding hands with a woman.

Underneath it was written:

EVIE AND MAMA.

My blood ran cold.

"She was here."

Damon examined the drawing.

"Recently."

A door slammed somewhere upstairs.

We both looked up.

Then came footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Someone was walking toward us.

A woman appeared at the end of the hallway.

She was older.

Pale.

Her dark hair streaked with silver.

But I knew her immediately.

My knees nearly gave out.

"Mom?"

She smiled.

"Hello, Aria."

Damon stepped forward.

"Where have you been?"

She looked at him.

"I've been waiting."

"For what?"

Her eyes moved to me.

"For my daughter to finally stop believing the lies."

I could barely speak.

"What lies?"

She walked closer.

"The lie that your father was murdered by Damon."

I stared at her.

"Then who killed him?"

She looked past me toward the entrance.

Her expression changed.

"That's the wrong question."

"What?"

She whispered:

"The question is why he had to die."

A car engine sounded outside.

My mother's face went pale.

"They found us."

Damon immediately moved toward the door.

"Who?"

My mother grabbed my wrist.

"You need to listen to me."

"What?"

"Your daughter was never supposed to be part of this."

My heart stopped.

"What are you talking about?"

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Someone wanted Evangeline because of who she is."

"She's just a child."

"No."

My mother's voice trembled.

"She's the heir."

The front doors burst open.

Damon turned.

A shadow moved through the doorway.

Then the lights went out.

My mother's hand tightened around mine.

And in the darkness, she whispered the words that would change everything.

"Your daughter is the key to everything your father died trying to protect."

A gunshot echoed outside.

And suddenly, the game wasn't about winning anymore.

It was about surviving.