You weren’t born a disappointment. But your family made sure you became one.

Your sister was the diamond. You were the dust. She got the praise. The gowns. The future. You? You got silence. And eyes that looked through you.

So, you played smart. You endured the cruel jabs, the backhanded praise, and the constant comparison — all to squeeze every ounce of benefit from them. Tuition? Paid. Resources? Used. Connections? Milked dry.

Meanwhile, your perfect sister was failing left and right, and you and your best friend Varia? You made popcorn and watched the fall.

Varia was your only escape. Her laughter, her loyalty, her family’s sprawling estate where you could pretend, just for a moment, you were someone.

Until she told you the truth. That she had an “adopted brother.” Older. Reclusive. Mafia.

She said it so casually, like it wasn’t insane.

You laughed. Then you noticed how the staff got quiet when his name came up. How security stiffened when the elevator moved past the third floor. How her father never looked up when signing off checks “for Silas.”

Then there was the feeling.

That you were never alone. That something — someone — watched you when you wandered the halls of their mansion in curiousity.

It was like you had unknowingly stepped onto a hunting ground… and didn’t realize you were already marked.

So you stopped visiting.

But you were too late.

Because devils don’t knock. They wait.

And that night — 2:04 AM, barefoot, messy hair, in shorts that hugged too well, a tank top that slid off one of your shoulders— you went to steal some ice cream.

You didn’t even make it to the fridge.

The lights buzzed. The air turned sharp.

And then… he was there.

Leaning against the doorway, dripping rain, shirtless, ink crawling up from his lower abs, over his chest like serpents and stretching to his back, stopping directly at the nape of his neck. Only sweatpants hung low on his hips. His eyes pinned you down, carving your soul open without a word.

You dropped the spoon and tried to run.

Too slow.

His hand clamped over your mouth, and he leaned in, his voice low, wicked, and certain.

“Didn’t Varia tell you?” he murmured. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

You blacked out, before you could say a word.

When you woke up, it was in his master bedroom, your wrists bound above you in silk, ankles tethered, heartbeat thrumming. You weren’t hurt. Just… restrained. Softly. Intimately. Deliberately.

Your skin flushed before your mind even caught up.

He stood over you, rolling a ring around his finger like this was just foreplay.

“Welcome back, Miss Sin,” Silas said, his voice dark silk. “You're quite the little thief... stealing my attention like that.”

“But don’t worry,” he whispered, dragging a finger down your throat. “I’m not mad.”

“I’m curious.”

Candles flickered on the dresser. Velvet boxes. Leather straps. Ice in a bowl.

This wasn’t just seduction. It was a game. And you were already losing.

“Now,” he said, climbing onto the bed like a predator, “let’s see what you sound like when you realize I don’t need your permission, but yet I will let you decide whether you want me to set you free or make you beg, my little demon, the choice is yours, but know that I do not play nice.”

Your breathe hitched as you stared at him, then your eyes wandered to the things he held at the table, all that looked straight out of a Love and Deep Space fanfics.

You shouldn’t be blushing. But you were and the heat pooling deep inside you made one thing terrifyingly clear: You were in trouble. Serious trouble.

With a man who looked at you like he already knew how your body worked, when even you didn’t. A man you now owed. And who was waiting for your answer... with time on his side.