The heavy wooden doors of the mansion closed behind Isabella with a resounding thud, sealing her fate. She stood at the entrance hall, eyes scanning the dimly lit space. Marble floors stretched out beneath her, reflecting the flickering flames of ancient sconces. The place felt as cold as its master.
Lucian stood in the center of the room, his back to her, staring into a grand fireplace where the flames barely seemed to warm the vast, shadow-filled chamber. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture as rigid and controlled as his icy demeanor.
"You should make yourself comfortable," Lucian said, his voice cutting through the silence without him turning to face her. "You'll be staying here for a long time, whether you like it or not."
Isabella took a step forward, feeling the weight of his disdain. "I don't need your hospitality. I'm here because I have no choice."
"Good," he muttered darkly, still not looking at her. "Then you understand the situation better than I expected."
She crossed her arms, her voice steady. "You hate me, don't you?"
At that, Lucian finally turned to face her, his golden eyes glinting in the low light. His lips curled into a cruel smile, though his expression remained distant, unreadable. "Hate? Hate is too mild a word." He stepped closer, his towering presence casting a long shadow over her. "You are nothing but a reminder of everything I loathe—a symbol of the curse that binds me. Your very presence here is a reminder of my imprisonment."
Isabella held his gaze, refusing to be cowed. "And what am I imprisoned by, Lucian? You're not the only one chained to this fate. I didn't ask for this either."
Lucian's eyes flashed, and he took another step toward her, closing the distance between them. "You think this curse is about you?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You're a mortal—an insignificant speck in a world that has existed for eons. You are merely a tool in this twisted game, nothing more. You should be grateful that I've allowed you to live this long."
"Grateful?" Isabella's voice shook with disbelief. "For what? For being dragged into a nightmare where I'm nothing but a pawn in your family's twisted legacy?"
Lucian's eyes narrowed, his handsome features hardening. "You would do well to remember your place, bride," he spat the word like poison. "You are here because of a deal made centuries ago. A deal that binds our bloodlines—your ancestors thought they could bargain with the devil. And now, you pay the price."
Her breath caught. "What are you talking about?"
He leaned in, his face dangerously close to hers, his golden eyes piercing. "Your family, Isabella. The blood in your veins is cursed. Did they not tell you?" He smirked cruelly. "Of course they didn't. They thought they could hide their shame. But your ancestors made a pact with my father—one that could never be undone. And you, whether you like it or not, are part of that pact."
Isabella felt a chill run down her spine. She had heard rumors, whispers about the dark history of her family, but she had never imagined it could be this. "A pact… with the devil?" she whispered.
Lucian stepped back, his expression cold once more. "Yes. And that is why you are here. The terms of the bargain are simple—you, a mortal, would marry into our bloodline to seal the pact. Your life is a payment for your family's debt."
She clenched her fists. "So, that's all I am to you? A payment?"
His laugh was humorless, sharp as a knife. "Exactly. Do not think for a moment that you mean anything more to me than that. You're just a way to ensure that I remain trapped in this cursed existence."
Isabella took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "And what about you?" she asked quietly. "Are you just as much a prisoner as I am?"
Lucian's expression flickered, just for a second, but it was enough for Isabella to see the truth. Beneath the cold mask, there was bitterness. Pain.
"I am the devil's son," he said slowly, his voice like ice. "Born of darkness. I was never free, to begin with."
She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. "And you hate me for it."
Lucian's eyes hardened again, the flicker of vulnerability gone in an instant. "Yes," he said simply. "I hate you because you are a reminder of everything I cannot escape. A reminder that I will never be free from this curse or from what I am."
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. The fire crackled faintly in the distance, but the chill in the room remained, as if no warmth could ever reach the heart of this dark mansion or the man who ruled it.
"You don't have to treat me like this," Isabella said finally, her voice soft but firm. "I didn't ask to be here, but neither did you. Maybe we don't have to be enemies."
Lucian's cold laughter echoed through the hall. "Enemies? I think you misunderstand. You are nothing to me, Isabella. And you never will be."
He turned away from her, walking toward the grand staircase that led deeper into the mansion's shadows. "You will have your own quarters. Stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours. We are bound, but we do not have to live as anything more than strangers."
As his footsteps echoed up the stairs, Isabella felt a sinking dread settle in her chest. This was not a marriage—it was a curse. Lucian was the devil's son, cold and unreachable, and she was bound to him by fate. But she could sense something deeper beneath his hatred, a darkness that went beyond the curse that bound them.
Whatever secrets this cursed mansion held, they were hers to uncover now.
But as she watched Lucian disappear into the shadows, she couldn't shake the feeling that the greatest mystery of all was the man she was bound to. The devil's son, the cold prince of shadows, and the one who hated her most in the world.