THE DEVIL I WAS SOLD TO

The First Escape

The Devil I Was Sold To — Chapter 4: The First Escape

Maya didn’t sleep after that.

She sat on the edge of the bed with her eyes fixed on the open door, replaying his words over and over in her mind.

The door stays unlocked.

No—it isn’t.

That was the problem.

It was unlocked… and yet she had still stayed.

Because fear had kept her still.

At dawn, the mansion was quiet again. Too quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint hum of a place that never truly rested.

Maya stood slowly.

Her legs felt stiff, but her decision was clear now.

“I’m leaving,” she whispered to herself.

She walked to the door.

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

It opened easily.

Her heart pounded as she stepped into the hallway.

Empty.

No guards.

No movement.

That should have been suspicious.

But fear of staying was louder than fear of what waited outside.

Maya moved quickly down the corridor, barefoot, her breathing shallow. Every turn looked the same—long halls, dark elegance, expensive silence.

She finally found what looked like a side exit.

A glass door leading to the outside garden.

Hope flickered.

She rushed toward it.

Her hands pressed against the handle—

Unlocked.

Her chest tightened.

Too easy.

But she didn’t stop.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the morning air.

For the first time since arriving, she felt something close to relief.

Fresh air. Real sky. Freedom—

“Going somewhere?”

The voice stopped her instantly.

Maya froze.

Slowly, she turned.

He was standing near the garden walkway.

As if he had been waiting.

Calm. Hands in his pockets. Watching her like he already knew the ending.

Maya’s breath shook. “How did you—”

“You chose the wrong direction,” he interrupted.

Her heart slammed. “I didn’t choose anything! I’m leaving this place!”

He tilted his head slightly. “You tried.”

Maya stepped back. “I am leaving. You can’t stop me.”

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he walked closer.

Slow. Controlled.

Maya backed away instinctively.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“You made it outside,” he said quietly. “That’s progress.”

Maya frowned, confused despite herself. “What are you talking about?”

He stopped a few steps away.

Close enough that escape felt impossible again.

Then he said something that made her stomach drop.

“This estate is surrounded by twelve exits.”

Maya’s eyes widened slightly.

He continued calmly.

“All of them are open.”

Her breath caught. “That’s impossible.”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s intentional.”

Maya shook her head. “You’re lying.”

He stepped closer again.

Not fast.

Just enough to make her feel how small the space between them was.

“I don’t keep prisoners behind locked doors,” he said. “I keep them in decisions.”

Her voice trembled. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will.”

Maya’s chest rose and fell quickly. “Why would you let me walk out if you didn’t want me to leave?”

For the first time, something like faint amusement passed through his expression.

“Because most people don’t survive choosing freedom here.”

A silence fell.

Maya’s fear flickered—but so did anger. “You think I’ll just give up?”

He studied her again.

Then said quietly, “No.”

That confused her.

Before she could respond, he added:

“I think you’ll try harder.”

Maya’s hands clenched. “Then you don’t know me.”

A pause.

His gaze sharpened slightly.

“I know enough,” he said.

Then he turned slightly and lifted his hand.

Almost immediately, movement appeared at the edges of the garden.

Guards.

Maya’s stomach dropped.

They hadn’t been visible before.

Now they were everywhere—silent, positioned like the space itself had been waiting for his signal.

Her voice broke slightly. “You set me up.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he said calmly, “You walked into it yourself.”

Maya stepped back again. “I want to leave this place.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then said:

“You already did.”

Maya froze.

“What…?”

He turned away slightly, as if the conversation had already ended.

But before walking off, he added one final sentence—quiet, sharp, impossible to ignore:

“The question is not whether you can leave, Maya.”

A pause.

“It’s whether you will come back when you do.”

And then he left her there.

Surrounded.

Not trapped.

But watched.