Deal with The Devil
1464 Words
I thought I could finally break away from Eliana’s family. Turns out luck wasn’t mine to keep. The cruel illusion of freedom shattered before it even began.
I didn’t even know what I did wrong. Yet I was being fired like trash, discarded the moment I became inconvenient.
"Five million dollars will be transferred to your account," the assistant said. His voice was flat, professional, completely detached from the weight of my impending doom. "It’s not much, but enough to start a business."
He wouldn’t be my assistant anymore. I didn’t even know his name. To them, I was just a passing line item in their ledger.
Five million. It meant nothing. In a town where power ruled over currency, money couldn’t buy me walls thick enough to hide from my stepfamily. The moment I stepped out of the Sergio family's protective shadow, Eliana would hunt me down and drag me back to be her maid again, punishing me for ever trying to escape. Money couldn’t buy freedom from her.
"Then I’ll take my leave," he turned to go, adjusting his cuffs.
I stared at his back, watching my only lifeline walk away. Something snapped inside me—the raw, animalistic instinct to survive.
"Bastard!" I screamed. The word tore out of my throat, raw and vibrating with pure rage.
He stopped. Turned. Surprised. His mask of professional indifference cracked for just a fraction of a second.
"We’re sorry, Miss Hawisa," he said softly, his tone shifting to something almost human. "I know this feels unfair. But this is an order from above."
"Then tell me what I did wrong before you throw me away!" Tears burned my eyes. I was humiliated. Disappointed. Broken. I deserved at least the truth.
"You didn’t do anything wrong, Miss Hawisa."
"Then why am I being fired, ahh… hikk…" I couldn’t stop crying. I covered my face with both hands like a child, the overwhelming weight of my helplessness crushing my chest.
"This is a company secret. I can’t tell you."
"I was your employee too, right? If you’d told me from the start, I would’ve accepted it. Just tell me now." I pleaded through my tears, demanding a logical explanation to anchor my sanity.
The assistant hesitated, glancing toward the closed door. Then he stepped closer, breaking his rigid posture. He looked at me with something like pity. We were probably the same age, yet trapped in vastly different worlds.
"If you hadn’t come yesterday, Mr. Amon might not be alive now," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Thank you for that."
"I already know that part," I snapped, wiping my tears angrily, refusing to be placated by empty gratitude. "Just tell me the secret so I can understand why I’m being thrown away."
The assistant took a deep breath, resolving to lay the cards on the table. "Mr. Amon carries a trauma. A very deep one. When he’s overwhelmed, his mind… breaks. Sometimes he turns that pain on himself. Sometimes he sees danger where there’s none. It’s an illness. There’s no cure yet. For your safety, the board decided to let you go immediately."
"So… so why did you hire me in the first place?" My voice shook as a horrifying realization began to dawn on me.
"Because someone had to be there. Someone who wouldn’t run. You were… a shield. And your task is done."
They needed a disposable pawn. Someone with zero political ties who could absorb his violent episodes without causing a public scandal.
"So I was hired just to get hurt and then fired?" I laughed, but it sounded like a sob. It was a sick, twisted joke.
"Yes. I’m sorry." He bowed his head, unable to meet my eyes.
No wonder Mr. Amon looked at me like I was a monster the first time we met. No wonder his eyes were full of hate and fear at the same time—he knew what he was capable of doing to the people around him.
"Did you all know this would happen?" I asked quietly.
"Yes. We prepared for it. We hired you to stand in his way."
My hands clenched into tight fists. The truth was brutal, but it gave me a bizarre sense of leverage. I couldn’t go back to Eliana’s house. I couldn’t be a maid again, subjected to their daily torture. I’d rather die than go back there. If I had to choose a monster, I would choose the one who paid well and kept my enemies at bay.
"Then don’t fire me," I said. My voice was steady now, the tears drying instantly into a mask of cold determination.
"What?" The assistant blinked, utterly bewildered by my reaction.
"I refuse. I won’t be fired because of his illness." I stood up, even though my legs shook from the lingering physical trauma. "I told you before. I’m ready to give everything. My body, my time, my life. If standing in front of him means he won’t hurt himself, then I’ll do it. If he needs to take his anger out on me instead of himself, let him. I’ll sign any paper you want. I won’t run."
The assistant stared at me, horrified by the sheer madness of my proposal. "You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?"
*****
I pressed my ear to the heavy wooden door of the briefing room. I wasn’t allowed inside, but I needed to hear my fate. The guards, surprisingly, didn't stop me—perhaps curious themselves about what would happen to the crazy girl.
"Is she okay?" Mr. Amon’s voice came through. Low. Tired. Full of guilt, carrying the heavy residue of his episode.
"She’s fine, Sir. She even yelled at us," my assistant answered.
Inside the room were five men and one old man sitting on the sofa. The air felt heavy with respect. That must be his grandfather, the true architect of the Sergio empire.
"She’s crazy," Mr. Amon said bitterly. "She must hate me."
"She says the bonus isn’t the problem, Sir," the assistant replied.
"Then what does she want?"
"She refuses to be fired. She said she’d rather be hurt than watch you… do something to yourself. She said she promised to give her body and soul when she signed the contract."
A long, suffocating silence stretched through the door.
"Interesting," Mr. Amon said finally. A cold, dangerous edge in his voice returned, replacing the guilt. "Let’s see if she’s really that brave. Or if she’s just desperate."
"Yes, Sir."
****
"Miss Hawisa, come in."
An old man opened the door for me. Inside, another old man stood waiting. Dignified. Sharp eyes that could read a person's entire soul in a single glance.
"Miss Hawisa?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir. That’s me."
"Sit, please." He gestured to the plush leather sofa. I felt out of place, a blood-stained, bruised girl sitting in luxury. Like a stray dog being invited to a king’s table.
"My name is William Antonius Sergio," he said once I sat. "I’m Amon’s grandfather."
The weight of his name hit me like a physical blow. I shot up and bowed immediately.
"S–sorry, Sir!"
"Sit down. Relax." He forced me to sit again with a gentle but unyielding wave of his hand.
"I came to discuss your contract with my grandson."
"I’m sorry for refusing to leave, Sir," I blurted out, desperate to establish my utility before he could dismiss me. "But I don’t mind his… episodes. I’m not scared of him."
"I understand. And I’m grateful," he said. His eyes softened for a second, recognizing the value of a shield who actively ran toward the sword.
"I’m the one who should be grateful," I said fast, laying bare my own terms. "Mr. Amon hired a high school graduate. A nobody. I just want to keep working so Eliana’s family can’t touch me again."
William was quiet for a moment, weighing the transaction. A broken grandson who needed a keeper, and a desperate girl who needed a fortress. It was a perfect, morbid alignment of needs.
Then he nodded. "Then stay at Amon’s house. Both of you will be safer there. You can watch over him. He can… protect you from your family."
My heart jumped into my throat. The asylum had doors, and I was being given the key.
"Is… is that allowed, Sir?"
"Of course. From now on, you’ll live under the same roof. Keep him safe. And I’ll make sure you’re safe too."
This was my deal with the devil. Or with his grandfather, at least.
I had no choice. No way back to the world of the living. I was stepping directly into the lion's den, but at least the lion had a cage I could help lock.
"I accept, Sir," I said.
- Writer
