Chapter 68: Useless.

After the school day ended, Dua stormed into the Sierre residence, fury radiating from her. "Well done, Mr. Sierre. Is that how far you could go?" She shot a glare at Bob, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Diane, what madness is this?" Mark’s voice echoed through the tense room as he stepped in front of his father defensively.

"Madness? You should ask your goddamned father why he sent men to kidnap me!" Dua spat, her voice quavering with equal parts rage and fear.

"Kidnap?" Both Sandra and Mark exclaimed in shock, their faces pale.

"When did that happen?" Sandra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yesterday," Dua replied, her voice tight as the memories crashed in.

"If this is the extent of your capabilities, Mr. Sierre, then you’re just a weak man bluffing his way through life," Dua continued, her biting tone directed at Bob.

"I hate to break it to you, dear daughter, but I had nothing to do with your little abduction yesterday." Bob’s calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil in the room.

"Oh, spare me the crap act," Dua retorted, rolling her eyes. Anger boiled just beneath the surface, evident in every line of her face.

"Looks like I’m not the only one who wants that Devil dead," Bob chuckled darkly.

“What do you mean?” Dua’s confusion grew as she processed his words.

"Trust me, Di, Dad didn't orchestrate your kidnapping," Mark interjected, his voice laced with concern for her.

"If it wasn’t him, then who was it?" Dua trailed off, her heart racing.

"That’s why you have to help us eliminate that Devil quickly, or you’ll never be safe," Bob said with a cruel smirk, obviously reveling in her distress.

"Remember, I only gave you two days to complete the task I laid out for you, or I’ll strike," he added, eyes gleaming with malevolence.

"And believe me, you won’t escape this time. Your husband won't be able to save you because he’ll be too occupied trying to save himself," he grinned wickedly.

Dua’s expression twisted into one of horror, panic seizing her heart as the weight of Bob's words settled on her. Bob smirked at her before leaving the living room with Mark.

“Don’t be too frightened, dear,” Sandra attempted to soothe Dua’s worries, but Dua couldn’t contain her anger.

“Don’t be frightened?” Dua scoffed, her voice rising. “You don’t expect me to not be. My life—and my husband's—is at stake, and it’s all because of your husband!”

“Diane…” she tried to interject.

“What’s your role in all of this? You can’t even talk to your husband! All you do is sit by and watch him do evil!” Dua’s words were sharp, cutting through Sandra like a knife.

“You know how he is, Dua. He won’t listen to me,” Sandra’s voice trembled as she tried to explain herself.

“If as a wife you can’t talk to your husband and he'll listen to you, then you're useless” Dua’s words were venomous, and she stormed out of the house, leaving Sandra collapsing to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

As Dua returned home, the first person she encountered was Steven. “Good, you’re home. We need to talk,” she said, her tone serious and urgent.

Steven, seemingly unfazed, strolled casually to the wine cellar. “Didn’t you hear me? I said we need to talk!” she repeated, frustration building within her.

“I heard you,” he replied, taking out his choice of wine. “But I feel this is going to be a long conversation, so I’d like to have something to pass the time, if you don’t mind.”

Dua scoffed in exasperation, turning on her heel and storming into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Steven joined her, settling comfortably on the couch beside her as she brooded. “So, what are we talking about?” he asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

“First of all, what the hell did you do to me this morning? I was having a swell at the corner of my lips but after you did the stupid thing you did, the swell vanished!” Dua exclaimed, her eyes narrowing.

“Next question?” Steven replied, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Dua stared at him in disbelief.

"Or is that the only question you've got?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Dua scoffed, irritation bubbling beneath her surface.

"Hey, are you bluffing with me right now, or are you trying to get me mad on purpose?" She narrowed her gaze, punctuating her words.

"Neither... I'm trying to come to terms with you," Steven replied, his tone more serious than before.

Dua crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "What, really, are you?"

"Is that your next question?" he asked, purposely dragging out the tension as he swirled his wine in the glass.

"I suppose it is," she replied, frustration evident in her voice.

"Well, your two questions have just one answer," he said, taking a slow sip of his wine.

"What answer?" she pressed, her patience wearing thin.

"That I can't tell you—at least not right now," he replied, stoking the fire of her fury.

"You can't tell me? The entire world calls you the Devil, and I, your wife, am the last person to find out! You indulge in devilish deeds that I’ve heard whispers of, but I refused to believe until you materialized right in front of me. And now you're saying you can't disclose what you are?" She glared at him, her voice brimming with exasperation.

"We established a 'no secrets between us' rule!" she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls.

"A rule you broke yourself," Steven shot back, his tone defiant.

"I had no choice!" Dua explained, her voice shaking.

"And I don’t have a choice either," he countered, an edge creeping in.

"But I apologized," she insisted, her frustration shifting to desperation.

"And I’m apologizing now too. Dear wife, I'm sorry, but I can’t answer your questions," he stated, the playfulness of earlier replaced by a somber truth.

"STEVEN LEVI!!!" Dua thundered, her face flushed with fury. She had reached her breaking point.

Steven felt a jolt at the sound of his full name; she had never addressed him like that before. "Nice to hear you're not calling me a knucklehead this time," he said, taking a sip of his wine, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Go float yourself," she shot back, her voice laced with frustration. With a sharp inhale, she stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Before he could fully process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him, she stormed back in, her frown deepening as she perched herself on the table in front of him, legs crossed defiantly. "Tell me everything," she demanded, her eyes glinting with determination.

"I thought you were no longer interested," he replied, a hint of surprise in his voice as he leaned back, studying her.

"Don't make me repeat myself," she warned, her tone firm and unyielding.

"Is that an order?" A chuckle escaped him, breaking the tension, though his heart raced a little at the challenge in her gaze.

"Yes," she replied, the seriousness in her voice contrasting starkly with the mischief in her eyes.

"You never cease to amaze me," he shook his head, unable to hide his admiration for her tenacity.

"Steven," she said, her gaze sharpening, an expectant look anchored in her stare. He could see the determination etched on her features.

"Fine," he sighed, the weight of what he was about to share settling heavily on his shoulders. "But it's not just about hearing it... can you handle what you'll hear?"