A NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL

Leaving the country

Since Alita was a familiar face and known to everyone as Maxwell’s girlfriend, the gatekeeper smiled warmly and waved her straight through the iron gates. She walked up the stone pathway, her chest tight with anxiety, and slipped inside the grand foyer. The house was unnervingly quiet, but the air felt heavy, thick, and musky. Trying to calm her racing heart, she sank onto one of the plush living room couches, but a sickening intuition settled deep in her gut.

When a young maid shuffled into the room, Alita couldn't help but ask, "Where is Maxwell?"

"Oh! The boss... he... he went away on a sudden business trip, Ms. Brown," the maid stammered. Her entire body was shaking, her skin flushing a guilty red, her eyes darting nervously toward the floor like someone terrified of being caught concealing a crime.

Alita’s eyes narrowed. The girl’s panicked energy was impossible to miss. Why would Maxwell leave for a business trip without sending her a single text? Alita stood up, her gaze scanning the room before locking onto the maid’s hands. The girl was frantically trying to hide something behind her back.

"What are you hiding?" Alita asked, stepping forward, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.

"N-nothing, ma'am!" the maid stuttered, backing away.

Alita didn't hesitate. She pushed past the girl’s shoulder, and the sight that met her eyes made her heart stop. Strewn across the polished hardwood behind the couch were items of clothing that certainly didn't belong to any member of the staff. They were expensive, fashionable, and discarded in a clear, frantic rush.

The truth hit Alita like a physical blow. Her trembling hand flew to her mouth as the pieces of the puzzle slammed together. Maxwell is...

Before the maid could utter a word of apology, Alita turned and bolted toward the grand staircase. Her heart ached with a suffocating, blinding pain.

She reached for the brass doorknob, her vision blurring with hot tears, but stopped dead in her tracks when a frustratingly familiar, sultry voice drifted through the gap in the door.

"That was the best ride ever, babe," Bianca purred, a breathless, satisfied laugh following her words. Alita’s blood turned to pure ice. Bianca. "You see? I am in every single way better than that useless girlfriend of yours," her stepsister scoffed.

"Of course you are, babe," Maxwell’s deep voice replied, completely devoid of guilt. Alita heard the rustle of heavy silk sheets and the unmistakable sound of shifting, naked bodies.

A heavy, dark silence fell over Alita as she leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her pale face, listening to the two people she trusted destroy her life while wrapped in each other's arms.

"I would have loved to see the absolute look on her face," Maxwell continued, his tone low and amused as he ran a hand over Bianca's bare shoulder. "If she ever finds out that we were the ones behind everything that happened to her that night. Honestly, though, I'm still confused about how she got pregnant. She never even made it back to her room."

"Same here," Bianca chimed in, shifting her naked weight against him, her voice twisting into a frustrated pout. "The thugs we paid to drug her and take those explicit videos told us she never returned to the penthouse floor that night. I'm completely baffled."

"Are you sure those street rats didn't lie to you?" Maxwell mused, his voice laced with dark curiosity. "Maybe they told her about our plan just to extort extra money out of her."

"I don't think so," Bianca muttered, tracing a finger down his bare chest. "But if that's true, how did she get pregnant? Unless... has she been cheating on you the exact same way you’ve been cheating on her?"

Maxwell let out a cruel, dismissive laugh, gripping Bianca's waist tightly. "Babe, you shouldn't even call this cheating. I never loved that b***h from the very onset. The foolish girl completely mistook a little bit of lust for love." Alita heard the distinct, intense sound of a wet, passionate kiss being planted on Bianca's lips, followed by a soft gasp from her stepsister.

"Wait a minute, Maxwell," Bianca suddenly muttered, breaking the kiss, her voice sharpening with a sudden spike of jealousy as she pulled back. "Don't tell me... you're not the one responsible for that trash inside her, are you? Is she—"

"Shhhhh, babe," Maxwell cut her off smoothly, his voice dropping into a low, seductive growl. "You know that's not even biologically possible, don't you? You of all people know what a total, boring Virgin Mary she acts like. She never even let me touch her, let alone get into that tight p***y of hers."

Bianca let out a sharp hiss, her eyes narrowing as she glared at his handsome face. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about her body. Are you in love with her?"

"Of course not. You're my one and only love," Maxwell cooed, sliding his hands down her bare back and kissing her deeply on the cheek. "Whoever knocked her up is none of our business. Honestly, we should just be thankful that everything played entirely into our favor. It ruins her spotless reputation perfectly."

"So, are you finally breaking up with her?" Bianca pressed, her voice a demanding purr.

"Before he breaks up with me, I am breaking up with him," Alita said, her voice ringing out like a crystal bell as she threw the bedroom door wide open.

Maxwell and Bianca jumped, scrambling against the rumpled sheets to pull the duvet over their naked skin. Their faces twisted in stark shock as they stared at Alita standing in the doorway, her eyes flashing like hot fire through her tears. "So... you both have been sleeping together behind my back this entire time."

Bianca quickly recovered, letting the blanket slip slightly to expose her collarbone as she rolled her eyes and let out a nasty hiss. "Thank God you found out yourself, b***h. Saves us the trouble of acting."

"Well, since the cat's out of the bag," Maxwell added, sitting up completely unbothered, his bare chest on full display without a single shred of remorse, "I'll do you the favor of letting you know that Bianca and I are getting married very soon. You're yesterday's news."

Alita swallowed the massive lump of grief in her throat, her posture straightening with a cold, devastating dignity that made her look breathtakingly fierce. "Well, then... I sincerely wish you both a miserable married life."

With that, she turned on her heel and ran down the corridor, her high heels clicking loudly against the floorboards. Downstairs, the young maid watched her bolt out the front door, her eyes swimming with deep, silent pity for the broken girl who had just walked in on a nightmare.

With her world turned upside down, Alita climbed into a cab and gave the driver the only destination left: the international airport.

She had no home and no one left to trust in this city. There was nowhere left to run except to France—where her grandfather lives.

Years ago, her mother’s parents had been violently opposed to her parents' marriage, warning that her father was a social climber. Her mother had cut all ties, and the last time Alita had seen her grandfather was at the funeral. Before he left, the stern old man had pressed a business card into her hand, whispering, “If you ever need a real family, come to me. I will protect you.

”Holding that card tightly, Alita boarded a one-way flight to Paris, leaving the betrayal and her old life behind.