THE DEVIL I WAS SOLD TO

The First Night

The Devil I Was Sold To — Chapter 3: The First Night

The mansion felt even larger at night.

Maya stood alone in a room that looked too expensive to feel real. The bed was massive, neatly made with dark silk sheets. The lights were soft, but they didn’t make her feel safe. They made everything feel quieter… like the house was holding its breath.

After the man left—after him—she hadn’t seen anyone again.

No guards. No maids. Nothing.

Just silence.

Maya walked to the door and tried it again. Locked.

Of course it was.

She exhaled shakily and turned back to the room. “This is not happening,” she whispered to herself. “This is not my life.”

But it was.

Hours passed.

She didn’t sleep.

Every sound made her sit up. Every shadow felt alive. At some point, she curled up on the edge of the bed fully dressed, knees pulled to her chest, eyes fixed on the door.

Waiting.

For what, she didn’t even know.

Then—

A sound.

Click.

Maya froze.

The door opened slowly.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Footsteps entered the room again. Calm. Controlled. Familiar.

Him.

He didn’t speak immediately. He simply walked in, as if the room already belonged to him more than it belonged to her.

Maya stood quickly. “What do you want?”

He stopped a few steps away.

His eyes moved over her briefly, then back to her face. “You didn’t sleep.”

Maya frowned. “Is that why you came in here? To check if I’m sleeping?”

Silence.

Then he said, “You should.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not tired.”

That wasn’t true. But fear was louder than exhaustion.

He tilted his head slightly. “Fear keeps you awake.”

Maya’s breath caught. “I’m not afraid of you.”

For the first time that night, something shifted in his expression again—something unreadable.

He walked further into the room.

Maya instinctively stepped back.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

He stopped near the bedside table, placing something down. A glass of water.

“I didn’t poison it,” he said calmly.

Maya stared at it. “I’m not drinking anything you give me.”

A faint pause.

Then he spoke quietly, almost like he was stating a fact rather than arguing.

“You will obey simple instructions. Eat. Sleep. Drink.”

Maya clenched her fists. “I don’t take orders from you.”

That made him look at her properly this time.

Really look.

The silence stretched.

Then he said something that made her chest tighten.

“You will.”

Maya shook her head slightly. “You can’t control everything.”

A step closer.

Her back hit the edge of the bed.

She hadn’t even realized she was retreating until she had nowhere left to go.

He stopped just in front of her.

Not touching her.

But close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence.

And then—

He lowered his voice.

“You are not the first person I’ve brought here who said that.”

Maya’s throat tightened. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he turned slightly toward the window, as if remembering something unpleasant.

Then he spoke.

“They all believed they were different.”

A pause.

“They all broke the same way.”

Maya felt a chill crawl up her spine. “What did you do to them?”

Silence.

He turned back to her slowly.

And for the first time, his calm felt… heavier.

“I did nothing,” he said.

That was worse.

Because his tone suggested something far more terrifying than violence.

Control.

Absolute control.

Maya forced herself to speak, though her voice shook slightly. “I’m not them.”

He studied her again.

Longer this time.

Then he reached out—not touching her—but placing his hand beside her on the bed, trapping her in place without physically holding her.

Maya went still.

Her breathing became shallow.

“That,” he said quietly, “is what they all said too.”

A long silence.

Then he withdrew his hand and stepped back as if nothing happened.

“Sleep,” he ordered calmly.

Maya didn’t move.

He turned toward the door.

Before leaving, he paused.

Without looking back, he added one final line.

“The door stays unlocked.”

Maya frowned immediately. “It’s locked.”

A faint pause.

Then—

“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

And he left.

The door closed softly behind him.

Click.

Maya stared at it, frozen.

Slowly, trembling, she walked toward it.

Her hand reached out.

Turned the handle.

It opened.

Her breath caught.

It was never locked.

It had been open the entire time.

And that realization hit her harder than anything else that night.

Because it meant one thing:

She hadn’t been trapped inside the room.

She had been choosing not to leave.