SHE SOLD ME TO THE DEVIL

CHAPTER FIVE – THE FAMILY'S RULES

The maid walked ahead of me without a word as I followed her through the mansion's hallways. Paintings lined the walls, chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and every corner showed money, yet none of it felt warm. The servants avoided my eyes as we passed — not politeness, but fear.

I asked who the woman in the portrait was. She wouldn't answer. When I grabbed her arm, she stopped hard, her eyes wide.

"Please don't touch me, Miss."

I let go and asked why. She said I wasn't supposed to ask questions. When I asked who made that rule, she glanced at the security camera above us and whispered that everyone who'd broken them had regretted it. Then she hurried off, leaving me standing there.

She led me to a massive door and opened it. "This is your room." Inside was bigger than the house I'd grown up in — king-sized bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, fresh flowers, expensive furniture. Beautiful. Wrong.

I told her I didn't want it. She apologized and stepped out. The door clicked shut. I tried the handle. Locked. Guards surrounded the mansion below the window. There was no way out.

An hour later she came back with a black dress, saying dinner was in fifteen minutes. I told her I wouldn't eat. She warned me that Master Lucien didn't like being refused. When I said I didn't care, she looked at me directly and said I should.

Before leaving, I asked why everyone reacted the way they did when they saw me. She said she didn't know. I called her a liar. She whispered that some things were safer left unknown, then left.

I hated this place. I hated Lucien. And some part of me was starting to understand why everyone here was afraid.

I changed, not because I wanted to but because refusing Lucien had already proven to be a bad idea. The maid led me deeper into the mansion. Guards stood at every corner. No one spoke or looked at ease.

At two enormous doors, she stopped. "Your dinner." I asked if she was coming. She shook her head and said this was where the rules were made.

Inside, a long table stretched across the room, more than a dozen Valentinos seated around it, none touching their food, all staring at me. At the head sat an elderly man with silver hair and a hard face — Lucien's father. Lucien stood beside him.

"Father," Lucien said. "She's here."

The old man's eyes moved over me. "Come closer." I didn't move until Lucien's gaze sharpened. His father's eyes traveled over my face, my hair, my hands, then stopped at my neck.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The necklace."

My heart stopped. My hand went to my bare neck — my father's necklace, torn off by my stepmother before I was dragged into Lucien's car. I asked how he knew about it. He only demanded an answer. When I said I didn't have it, he asked who took it. I told him my stepmother. The room went silent, like that answer meant something.

I looked at Lucien. He wasn't surprised, and that frightened me more than anything else. "You knew about it."

His jaw tightened. "Elena."

"You knew about the necklace before tonight, didn't you?"

"Sit down."

A woman near the middle of the table stood suddenly, her chair scraping the floor, her face pale. "You look exactly like—"

"Enough." Lucien's father's voice cut through the room, and she went silent.

"Like who?" I asked. No one answered. Two guards stepped forward. The woman dropped to her knees. "Please."

The old man didn't look at her. "I warned everyone in this house. Take her away."

The guards seized her arms. She screamed, promising she wouldn't say it again. They dragged her out anyway. No one moved, not even Lucien. I shouted for them to stop. They froze, but when I told his father she'd done nothing wrong, he said she'd broken a rule.

"By saying I look like someone?"

"You ask too many questions."

"Maybe because everyone acts like I already know things I don't."

"Take her to the cellar."

I turned to Lucien. "You can't let them do this." He said nothing. When I called his name, his eyes met mine — no sympathy, no hesitation, nothing. That emptiness hurt worse than her screaming.

"What kind of family does this?" I asked his father.

"The kind that survives."

The guards dragged her out. Her screams faded down the hallway. When the doors closed, the quiet felt worse than the noise had.

"You're all monsters," I told Lucien.

"Careful."

"Will you send someone to the cellar too?"

"Elena."

"I'm done being scared."

His father spoke. "You should be." He studied my eyes now, not my face. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Because Lucien brought me."

"Wrong." He rose from his seat. Lucien said "Father" in warning, but the old man kept going. "You believe he brought you here for revenge."

"Doesn't he?"

He smiled without warmth. "Revenge is the smallest reason you're sitting at this table."

My stomach dropped. He started toward me. Lucien stepped between us. "That's enough."

His father stopped. Something passed between them that wasn't anger — a warning.

"You didn't tell her?"

"There's nothing to tell," Lucien said.

"Interesting."

"What aren't you telling me?" I demanded. Neither answered. "WHAT DON'T I KNOW?"

The old man's eyes dropped to my neck. "When the necklace is found, you'll understand why your father was so desperate to keep you hidden."

"My father?"

"Take her upstairs."

I didn't move. "Why did my father hide me? Who was the woman in the portrait? Why does she have my face?"

He stopped, back still to me, and stood there several seconds before turning his head slightly.

"Because, Elena," he said, meeting my eyes, "you've been lied to about who your mother was."

My breath caught. He walked away. Lucien called after him, low and tense. His father didn't stop. The doors closed behind him.

I stood there, my mind spinning — my mother, the portrait, the necklace, my father, all connected, and everyone in this house seemed to know except me.

"You knew," I told Lucien. He didn't answer. "Tell me."

"Go upstairs."

"Tell me!"

"Elena, go upstairs."

"Who was she?" He said nothing. "Who was the woman in that portrait?"

For one second something like guilt crossed his face, then vanished. "You're not ready to know."

"Then make me ready."

"That's not how this works."

"Then how does it work?"

He stepped closer. "You're going to learn the rules."

"And if I don't?"

His face was close to mine. "Then this house will teach you."

He walked away. I stood there, shaking with anger. Then a sound came from behind me — faint, almost nothing. I turned. The dining room was empty.

A tap. Then two more. Someone was knocking, but there was no door there.

Then a voice, barely audible. "Elena..."

I couldn't move. It came again, clearer. I turned toward the empty hallway just as it whispered not to let them find the necklace.

I knew that voice. I'd heard it before, not in this mansion, not in a dream, but at home — my mother's voice. Except that was impossible. My mother had been dead for years.

I stumbled back, telling myself it couldn't be true, just as the lights went out.

And in the darkness, something whispered beside my ear.

"Run."