All Chapters of Married to the Devil: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Tristan’s POVDaniel and I stepped out of the study, the door closing softly behind us. I walked downstairs, my steps measured. Daniel followed. Abuela sat comfortably in the living area, Patricia beside her. They were mid-conversation, their expressions relaxed. “Where’s Natasha?” I asked, my eyes scanning the room. Patricia looked up first. “Oh. You just missed her.”My brows furrowed slightly. “Missed her?”“She said she had to leave,” Abuela added gently. “Something came up.”My gaze sharpened. “Did she say anything else?”Patricia shook her head. “No. Just that she needed to go.”“Okay,” I said. There was a brief pause. “Didn’t she tell you she was leaving?” Abuela asked, looking surprised. “Tell me she was leaving? I left her with you downstairs.”“I thought she came to your study,” Patricia said. “She came to my study?” I asked. Abuela nodded. “Yes. She said you mentioned some documents.”The silence that followed stretched thin. I didn’t move. My mind replayed the l

Tristan’s POV. It had been exactly three days since Natasha took off. Different thoughts ran through my head. I wondered if she was okay. I contemplated calling her. I shouldn’t even care this much. But I did anyway. Marcus had tried calling me repeatedly. I never answered any of his calls. He had tried to set up a meeting with me. He knew I had already found out about his shady dealings. I wanted him to wait.I wanted him to sit with himself. To sit with his guilt. Fear. Or whatever he could be feeling. Left to me, I wouldn’t even get involved anymore. Marcus had not been completely honest with me. What made him think he could do that?But Abuela wanted me to… for Natasha. I let out a short sigh. “Daniel?”“Yes, boss?” he replied. “Let’s finally pay Marcus a visit.”He studied me briefly, then nodded slowly. The ride felt slow. The car finally rolled to a smooth stop in the garage of Whitmore Industries. I stepped out of the car, heading toward the main entrance of th

Natasha’s POVThe ride home was fast, not reckless. Ananya suggested we go to her house, but I couldn’t risk it. If we were being followed, I refused to lead them straight to her door. The mansion came into view. The gate opened for us as I pulled into the garage, moving quickly but carefully. We got out of the car and moved toward the front door. The door swung open before we even reached the porch. The moment we crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind us with a quiet finality that made my chest tighten. Footsteps approached almost immediately. “Ma’am,” one of the maids greeted, dipping her head slightly. Her eyes flicked between us. “You’re back early,” she said, turning to Ananya. “Hello, Miss Ananya.”“Hi Sandra. How are you?” Ananya said. “Yeah, actually, I didn’t go to the office,” I said, looking around. “Is anyone home?” I asked. “No, ma’am,” Sandra said. “Alright, thanks. You may go.”“Good to see you, ma’am.” she said to Ananya. Ananya stayed close beh

Natasha’s POV Exactly four days ago, Tristan set the date for our wedding. Since then, everything has been moving too fast—like I’m already running out of time. I asked Ananya to be my maid of honor, and she could barely contain her excitement—even though we both knew none of this was real. It was strange how easily she slipped into the role. The idea of being someone’s bride felt strange. Like it didn’t belong to me. Tristan suggested having the best designers handpick my dress, but I declined. If I was doing this, I needed to choose what I wore—at least he could give me that. The bridal shop door chimed and suddenly I was drowning in veils and lights. The air smelled faintly of roses and lavender. Racks and racks of white—silk, satin, lace—layers of it hanging like ghosts drifting without direction. Some beaded until they sparkled. Some plain enough to look like clouds you could disappear into. A soft instrumental song was playing from somewhere—piano, maybe. It was su

Natasha’s POV I turned to Ananya. “You haven’t said a word about your dress.” I faced the saleswoman now. “Please, I need you to get my friend a dress too. She’s my maid-of-honour. I love this dress I’m putting on. We’ll take it.”“What about you, Patricia?” I said, adjusting my hair. “It’s handled,” she replied.“Okay.”In no time, different dresses were brought in for Ananya. She scanned through them. I’d already taken off my dress for minor adjustments. Ananya held up a dress. “I think I like this one.” She disappeared behind the curtain to fit into it. “It fits perfectly! No adjustments needed.” Her voice carried through the room. Adelina stood slowly. “Patricia and I will leave now. Goodbye, Natasha,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “Be good, okay?”I nodded once. “Of course. And you too.”“Bye Ananya, it was fun meeting you.” Patricia called, not loud, just enough for Ananya to hear. “See you soon, sister-in-law,” she said to me. I smiled. “Likewise, Tricia. See you at