Chapter 7
The Devil's Game
Mary's POV
The De La Cruz family didn't waste time with pleasantries.
After dinner, Andrew led me through the mansion's grand hallways, his grip firm on my wrist.
"Where are we going?" I demanded, my heels clicking against the marble floor.
He didn't answer, he just kept on walking dragging me along with him.
Instead, he stopped in front of two large double doors and pushed them open. The moment I stepped inside, I knew this wasn't a place for the weak.
The study was dimly lit, filled with bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. The scent of cigar smoke and aged whiskey lingered in the air. Behind an oversized desk, Don Victor De La Cruz sat like a king on his throne, swirling a glass of dark liquor.
"Come in," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
Andrew released me, stepping to the side as if he were merely an observer of what to come.
That's when I saw him.
A man, bound and bruised, kneeling on the floor in front of the desk. His face was swollen, his lip split, his suit torn.
I stiffened.
"This man," Don Victor began, placing his drink down, "was once loyal to the De La Cruz family. But as we all know, loyalty is tested. And sometimes, it fails."
I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening.
Victor gestured toward the desk. I followed his movement and froze when I saw it—a gun.
My stomach twisted into knots.
"You're about to become a De La Cruz, Mary," Victor continued, his voice eerily calm. "But a name means nothing without proof. Tonight, you will prove yours."
A test.
A brutal one.
Andrew leaned in slightly, his voice low and mocking. "Make your choice wisely, sweetheart."
I turned to face him, my heart pounding.
"This isn't my world," I whispered, my throat dry.
Andrew smirked. "It is now."
I looked back at the gun. The metal gleamed under the dim lighting, cold and unfeeling. I could hear the man's ragged breaths, see the fear in his swollen eyes.
What was I supposed to do?
Victor studied me carefully. "You don't have to kill him," he said. "But you do have to prove something to me."
The room was suffocating. The weight of Andrew's gaze, Victor's expectations, and my own morality pressed down on me.
I reached out, my fingers brushing the cool surface of the gun. My stomach turned as I wrapped my hand around it.
I had a choice to make.
A hard choice.
************
By extreme luck, I survived the test. Whether by force or defiance, I had proven something to Don Victor.
The night f my engagement came, dignitaries from all over the country came, everyone was celebrating.
My dad was there also, but his facial expression never gave the vibe that he was celebrating.
But the De La Cruz family was celebrating.
The De La Cruz ballroom was a breathtaking display of wealth and power. A live band played a soft melody while guests in designer suits and gowns whispered behind their crystal glasses of champagne.
I stood near the grand staircase, feeling out of place in my deep-red silk dress. The night should have ended, but the real show was just beginning.
Andrew appeared beside me, looking as smug as ever. "Enjoying the party?"
I shot him a glare. "I don't belong here."
He smirked. "That's not what your engagement ring says."
I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to wipe the arrogance off his face.
Before I could say anything, he extended a hand. "Dance with me."
I scoffed. "Not a chance."
His eyes darkened. "I wasn't asking."
I hated him. I hated that he thought he could control me. But as the music changed, and every pair of eyes in the room seemed to turn toward us, I knew I had no choice.
I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me onto the dance floor.
The moment his hands found my waist, I realized this wasn't just a dance.
This was a war.
Andrew led with confidence, his grip strong and unyielding. Every step was calculated, every turn a display of dominance. He spun me effortlessly, pulling me close so that his breath ghosted over my skin.
"I wonder," he murmured, his lips grazing my ear, "will you survive in my world, Mary? Or will you break?"
My heart pounded, but I refused to let him see my fear.
I met his gaze, my eyes burning with defiance. "Try me."
His smirk faltered for a split second, just long enough for me to see something else behind his mask. Curiosity. Amusement. Maybe even admiration.
But it disappeared just as quickly.
The dance ended, and the room erupted into applause.
Andrew let go of my waist, but before I could step away, he leaned down and whispered, "I think I'm going to enjoy being married to you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my skin still tingling from his touch.
This man was dangerous. And somehow, I had just challenged him to a game I wasn't sure I could win.
****
A loud clinking of glass pulled everyone's attention to the grand dining hall.
Don Victor stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding the entire room. Silence fell.
"Tonight," he announced, his deep voice echoing, "we welcome a new member into our family."
The crowd watched, their gazes predatory.
"Mary Ezekiel," Victor continued, "the future wife of my son, Andrew."
Applause erupted, cameras flashed, and suddenly I was thrust into a nightmare I could no longer escape.
Before I could fully process what was happening, a diamond ring was slipped onto my finger.
Andrew took my hand, lifting it for all to see. "It's official now," he murmured, his voice low and possessive.
I forced myself to breathe.
It didn't matter if this was all for business. It didn't matter if it was just a deal.
To the world, I now belonged to Andrew De La Cruz.
No escape.
No turning back.
Andrew leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Welcome to hell, sweetheart."
And just like that, my fate was sealed.