Owned by the devil’s heir - by Sewuese Adason

Chapter Two: The Brothers of Blackwood The sound of the doors slamming shut echoed through the mansion. Elena jumped. The noise lingered in the vast entrance hall before dissolving into silence. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She turned, grabbing the brass handle. It wouldn’t budge. “Locked already?” The driver was gone. She hadn’t even heard him leave. “Hello?” she called. Only her voice answered, bouncing off marble floors and towering stone walls. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, glittering like frozen stars despite the dim lighting. Portraits of unfamiliar faces lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement. She rubbed her arms. The air inside was unnaturally cold. A slow clap echoed through the hall. Once. Twice. Three times. Elena spun toward the grand staircase. A man descended with effortless confidence. He was impossibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black tailored suit that looked as though it had been made exclusively for him. Dark hair framed a face carved with sharp angles, and his icy gray eyes revealed nothing. He stopped on the final step. “So,” he said calmly. “You came.” Elena swallowed. “I… I came for the job.” His lips curved into the faintest smile. “No.” “You came because you had no other choice.” Before she could respond, another voice drifted from the second-floor balcony. “I told you she’d come.” A second man leaned casually against the railing. Unlike the first, he smiled openly. Dangerously. His black shirt was rolled to his elbows, exposing tattooed forearms. His green eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you stare any harder, brother, she’ll run away.” The first man didn’t react. “Come down, Lucien.” The smiling man obeyed. Unlike his brother’s measured movements, Lucien bounded down the stairs with easy confidence. He stopped directly in front of Elena. Much too close. “You really are prettier than the photograph.” Elena frowned. “What photograph?” Lucien only smiled wider. His brother answered instead. “We investigate everyone who enters this estate.” “My name is Damian Blackwood.” Lucien offered an exaggerated bow. “And I’m the favorite brother.” Damian glanced at him. “You are the loudest brother.” “Same thing.” “It isn’t.” Elena almost laughed. Almost. There was something unsettling beneath their playful exchange. As though both men were acting. Watching. Waiting. Damian gestured toward the dining room. “You must be hungry.” She hesitated. “I’m fine.” “That wasn’t a question.” His tone remained polite. Yet it carried an unmistakable command. ⸻ The dining room was enormous. A table long enough for thirty guests held only three place settings. Silver candles flickered without melting. Fresh food covered every inch of the polished wood. Roasted chicken. Fresh bread. Fruit. Soup. Wine. It looked like a feast prepared for royalty. Elena stared. “You expected me?” Lucien poured himself a drink. “We’ve expected you for years.” Damian shot him a warning look. Lucien sighed dramatically. “I’ve said too much already.” Elena sat slowly. Nothing made sense. “You still haven’t explained why you hired me.” Damian folded his hands. “Our previous housekeepers never stayed.” “Why?” “They left.” Lucien laughed into his glass. Damian didn’t. “They disappeared,” Lucien corrected with a grin. Elena nearly dropped her fork. Lucien burst into laughter. “I’m joking.” Damian remained expressionless. “Mostly.” The room fell silent. Elena wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run. ⸻ Later that night, a maid led Elena to her bedroom. It was larger than her entire apartment. Dark oak furniture filled the room. A fireplace crackled softly. Fresh flowers rested on the bedside table. “They knew my favorite flowers,” Elena whispered. The maid smiled nervously. “They know everything.” “What?” The woman immediately lowered her head. “I said nothing.” She hurried out, shutting the door behind her. Elena locked it. Twice. She unpacked only the essentials before stepping onto the balcony. The estate grounds stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight. Forests surrounded the mansion. There were no neighboring houses. No lights. No signs of civilization. Only darkness. Then… Movement. Someone stood in the garden. A woman dressed entirely in white. Her long black hair covered her face. She wasn’t moving. She was simply… staring. Elena blinked. The woman vanished. A cold wind swept across the balcony. From somewhere below came the sound of a child laughing. High-pitched. Playful. Impossible. She leaned over the railing. “Hello?” Silence. Then a whisper drifted up through the darkness. “Leave… before they choose you.” Elena stumbled backward. Her bedroom door slowly creaked open behind her. She knew she had locked it. The room was empty. Or so she thought. Until she noticed the mirror. Someone had written three words across its surface in dripping red letters. DON’T TRUST THEM. A sudden knock echoed from the door. Three slow knocks. Damian’s calm voice came from the other side. “Miss Hart…” “I need to ask you something.” Elena looked back at the mirror. The words had disappeared. Only her frightened reflection remained. She reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers.

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