Chapter 18

The Devil's Choice

The video dropped into Vera’s inbox at dawn. No note, no signature, just a cold file sent through a secure channel to her encrypted device.

I was in Damian’s study as Vera hit play.

The screen flickered to life.

It showed a dimly lit warehouse. Everything looked damp and the rusted chains hung ominously. And right in the middle? Marina.

She was bloodied but alive.

Tied to a chair, her head hung low. One side of her face was swollen, and a nasty gash marked her collarbone. Standing next to her was Lucien, looking sharp in a tailored charcoal suit.

He lifted her chin with a gloved hand and stared straight into the camera.

“You want your legacy, Claire?” His voice was a venomous whisper. “Then come take it. But you come alone, or she dies. Just like your mother.”

The video cut to black. Silence hit us like a punch.

Vera broke the quiet first. “We can’t negotiate with him, not after everything he’s done.”

“She’s alive,” Damian said, though his voice was tight. “Lucien wouldn’t kill her yet. Not until he gets what he wants.”

He’s already got what he wants, I thought.

Me.

Damian followed me into the hallway, away from the others.

“You’re not going,” he said flatly.

But I kept walking.

“You can’t go alone.”

I have to. She protected me. She’s my only link to my mother. I can’t let Lucien destroy her too.

Damian’s grip on my arm tightened. “I’ll come with you.”

No.

“I won’t let him…”

You can’t stop him from hurting me, I wanted to scream. You can only help me mean something.

That night, I got dressed. Not in black, but in white.

The same shade I wore the day I signed my soul over in Damian Cross’s contract.

But this time, I was dressed for war.

No guards, no weapons, just a small silver pin, one my mother had hidden in her journals. It contained a tiny vial inside, sharp as a fang.

Poisoned if needed.

A last resort.

The warehouse was on the edge of the river. Abandoned, remote, crawling with Lucien’s men.

They let me through without a word.

Inside, the smell of rust and blood was overwhelming.

Lucien stood near Marina, sipping from a crystal glass.

“Well,” he said, turning as I walked in. “The little lamb walks into the slaughter.”

I came alone, i said.

"You always were obedient," he said, circling me slowly. "But not dumb, you’ve got some bite now."

I stood still. Let her go.

He chuckled. "You think you can call the shots?"

She’s got nothing to do with this.

"Oh, but she does." His grin was cold and wide. "She kept secrets, helped your mother hide things from me. Fed you lies. She’s a traitor."

No, she’s family.

I took a step forward. Stop, and I’ll do whatever you want.

He hesitated. The gun dipped slightly.

"Anything?" he asked.

My voice trembled. Anything.

He moved closer.

"Listen up, little heir." His breath was icy against my cheek. "I want the drive. All of it. You’ll walk away from Cross. From Damian. From the council."

And what do I get in return?

"You live. She lives."

And my mother’s name?

He laughed, a chilling sound. "Erased. Just like I erased hers."

I glared at him, fury boiling beneath my calm exterior. You’re afraid, I told him.

His smile vanished.

You destroyed my mother. But I’m the mistake you didn’t plan for.

Lucien lunged, but I was quicker.

My hands shot up, and I jabbed the poisoned pin deep into his neck.

He staggered back, gasping.

"What did you…”

I stepped over him as he dropped to his knees, body convulsing.

A mother’s gift, I whispered.

Lucien collapsed. Not dead yet, just silenced.

I rushed to Marina, cutting the ropes with trembling fingers.

"Can you walk?"

She nodded, barely conscious. "You came."

"I always would."

We stumbled out into the night, just as headlights pierced the darkness.

Damian.

His car screeched to a halt, men spilling out.

When he saw me, it was like something inside him shattered.

He ran to me, wrapping me in his arms.

"I told you not to go."

"And I told you," I said, breathless. "You can’t protect me from everything."

He kissed me hard, desperate. But it wasn’t about possession. It was relief.

Lucien was taken, alive but barely breathing.

Damian’s men secured him in an underground cell, stripped of everything.

No power, no voice.

Later that night, Vera stood over him, watching the cameras.

"Claire wants to decide what happens next?"

"She deserves it."

"She’s changed. She’s becoming."

I sat alone in the war room, drive in hand, proof in my grasp. The man who killed my Tamil was in chains.

But as I gazed at the old photos of my mother and Marina, I came to a realization.

Revenge had never been the true victory.

Legacy was.

And I don’t want to rule from Damian’s throne.

I’ll build my own.

Not as the devil's wife.

But as the one who outlived him.