CHAPTER 5 - THE FIRST SON OF SATAN
The Next Day
The sun was barely up as Mrs. Eunice sat on her bed, her blonde hair still damp from a recent shower. A soft knock sounded at the door, and Eunice, already dressed in a crisp cream blouse and tailored slacks, gave a curt, "Come in."
The door opened to reveal Elizabeth, a young and beautiful maid, balancing a well-arranged tray with a steaming cup of green tea. Her polite smile wavered slightly as she stepped inside. "Oh, you're already awake, madam. I brought your green tea," she said, her tone bright but tinged with hesitation.
"Thank you," Eunice replied, gesturing toward the ornate desk near the window. "Leave it there."
Elizabeth complied, placing the tray carefully down on the polished wood. As she did, Eunice continued, her gaze flicking toward the clock on the wall. "Tell Nevaeh I have a meeting in a few minutes. I'll be heading to the office shortly, so he'll need to handle things here in my absence."
Elizabeth nodded quickly, clasping her hands in front of her apron. "Of course, madam. Is there anything else you need?"
Eunice shook her head, but as Elizabeth turned to leave, she spoke again. "Wait."
Elizabeth froze mid-step, her spine straightening as though bracing herself for reprimand. "Yes, madam?"
Eunice's sharp gaze lingered on the young woman for a beat too long. "Is everything all right, Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly, her composure faltering. "Y-yes, madam. Everything's fine," she stammered, her voice just a touch too high.
Eunice tilted her head, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. "You seem a little... jumpy this morning. Something on your mind?"
Elizabeth's hands twitched, fingers wringing the fabric of her apron. "N-no, madam. I promise, I'm fine."
Eunice's smile faded, replaced by a cold, assessing look. She took a step closer, her tone soft but laced with steel. "Good. I'd hate to think my staff was distracted."
Elizabeth swallowed hard, her face paling. "I'm not, madam. I'll—I'll let Nevaeh know right away," she blurted before retreating hastily.
Eunice watched her go, her sharp eyes narrowing as the door clicked shut behind the maid. "Strange girl," she muttered under her breath.
She crossed to the desk and picked up the tea, savoring the faint aroma of jasmine and herbs. As she lifted the cup to her lips, a voice spoke from behind her.
"You shouldn't drink that," the voice said, smooth and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Eunice froze mid-motion, the cup hovering inches from her lips. Slowly, she turned, her sharp gaze scanning the room until it landed on the man standing casually near the window. Her eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed into icy slits.
"It's you," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. Her grip faltered, the delicate porcelain teacup slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. "You shameless, perverted thief!" she said.
The man didn't move. If anything, his expression grew more amused, his lips curling into a faint smile that only made her fury burn hotter.
"Perverted thief?" he repeated, his tone light but edged with something darker. "Humans and their names for me. Always so dramatic." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Look, let's be clear, woman—I don't have the time to waste on your petty mortal tantrums."
Eunice's mouth fell open slightly, her mind struggling to catch up. Her shock was quickly replaced by outrage. "Petty? Mortal tantrums?" she sputtered, stepping forward, her heels crunching on the shattered porcelain. "Are you out of your mind? Who the hell do you think you are?"
The man's smile widened. "Make a wish," he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Eunice stared at him, her brow furrowing in disbelief. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, the sheer audacity of the command rendering her silent. Then she blinked, her lips curling into a humorless smile.
"A wish?" she repeated, her voice dripping with mockery. "You've got some nerve." She let out a sharp laugh, the sound harsh and cold. "What kind of scam are you trying to pull here? You barge into my room, insult me, and then demand I make a wish? Are you stupid, or are you just insane?"
The man tilted his head, his expression unchanging. "Neither," he replied smoothly. "But clearly, you're as ignorant as you are loud. A lot of your kind know who I am. How is it that you don't?"
Eunice stiffened at the insult, her hands curling into fists. "My kind?" she repeated, her voice rising with indignation. "And who exactly are you supposed to be?"
"Mammon," he said, his tone cold and final. "The man whose vase you destroyed. And now, thanks to your careless little tantrum, I'm stuck here until you grant me release."
Her eyes narrowed, her mind racing to connect the dots. "Release?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "From what? Your ego?"
Mammon's smile thinned, his patience clearly wearing thin. "I am bound to grant you three wishes, mortal. That is the price of breaking the vase. Once those wishes are made, I can leave. Do you understand, or shall I spell it out further?"
Eunice stared at him, the words sinking in. Her rational mind screamed that it was a con, a carefully constructed trick designed to catch her off guard. But something about the man—the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way his very presence seemed to make the air in the room heavier—made her hesitate.
"Do I understand?" she repeated slowly, her voice now laced with icy sarcasm. "Oh, I understand perfectly. You're some delusional little magician with too much time on his hands, trying to play games with someone who's far too busy to care." She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Here's my wish: disappear, and take your ridiculous act with you."
Mammon smirked, his crimson eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Not how it works, Eunice," he said, her name rolling off his tongue with unsettling familiarity. "I'm not a magician. I'm Mammon, the First Son of Satan. And until those wishes are made, you're stuck with me. So I'd suggest you think carefully. Very carefully.
Eunice blinked, her brain scrambling to process his words. The First Son of Satan? Wishes? The sheer audacity left her stunned. Her lips parted, her retort sharp and ready. "You—"
But before she could finish, a shrill timer went off from the tablet on her desk, its sound cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. Her gaze snapped to the glowing screen, and a wave of realization hit her like a freight train. She instinctively glanced at her wristwatch.
"Damn it," she muttered, annoyance bubbling to the surface. She was late—already.
The chaos of the morning was already too much to handle. Eunice shot him a sharp glare, her disgust unmistakable as her lips curled ever so slightly. She looked him up and down, as if he were a particularly vile stain she couldn't wait to scrub out of her life. But Mammon, who couldn't be bothered, simply watched her with a faint, amused smile
"Argh... Diego!" she barked, her voice cutting through the air as she turned towards the door, not sparing him another second of her time.
Within seconds, Diego burst through the door, his broad shoulders stiff and his expression unreadable. "Is there a problem, Madam?" he asked, his voice calm but alert as his sharp eyes swept the room for threats.
Eunice pointed to where Mammon had stood only moments before, her finger trembling slightly with frustration. "He's here! The thief! The one I told you about last night!"
Diego's gaze followed her direction, his brow furrowing when he saw... nothing. The air where Mammon had been was empty, as if he had never been there at all.
"Madam," Diego said cautiously, straightening his tie, "are you certain—"
"Of course I'm certain!" Eunice snapped, cutting him off. She took a step toward him, her heels crunching on the shattered remains of the teacup. "I'm not imagining things, Diego. He was right there."
Diego hesitated, his professional demeanor faltering for just a moment. "Understood, Madam," he said finally. "I'll have the security team do a sweep of the estate immediately."
Eunice narrowed her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with his response. "Good. And Diego?"
"Yes, Madam?"
Her tone dropped, icy and firm. "Make sure he's caught and dealt with before you call the police. I don't care how long it takes. I want him off my property."
Diego nodded briskly. "Consider it done, Madam."
Without waiting for further assurances, Eunice turned on her heel and marched toward the door, her steps purposeful and sharp. The surreal events of the morning clung to her like an unwelcome shadow, but she shoved them aside. She had no time for this nonsense.
As she descended the grand staircase toward the front entrance, she was greeted by the sight of a sleek black Rolls-Royce parked at the base of the marble steps. A small group of men in tailored suits and dark glasses stood at attention, their presence a silent testament to the wealth and power Eunice wielded.
One of the men stepped forward, opening the car door with a precise bow. Eunice didn't spare him a glance as she stepped inside, settling into the plush leather seat. The cool interior was a stark contrast to the heat of her irritation.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the car hummed to life, gliding smoothly down the driveway. Three black SUVs fell into formation behind her, their engines purring like watchful predators.
Eunice's gaze flicked to the tinted window as the Rolls-Royce exited the compound. The sprawling gardens passed by in a blur of green and gold, the morning sunlight catching on the marble driveway. Normally, the pristine beauty of her estate would have brought her a small sense of satisfaction, but today it barely registered.
Her mind churned with unanswered questions, her anger simmering beneath her polished exterior. Mammon's words echoed in her ears: Make a wish.
The sheer absurdity of it all gnawed at her, but what unnerved her more was the way he had disappeared without a trace. Twice. It defied reason, and Eunice despised anything that defied reason.
She clenched her jaw, her nails biting into the leather armrest. "Diego will handle it," she muttered under her breath, as if saying it aloud might banish the lingering unease.
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"Urghh, it's that smell again,"
Aurora muttered, her nose wrinkling as the foul odor crept into her awareness. She clamped her hand over her nose, her lips curling in disgust. It was sharp and acrid, like something burning, but underneath it was an unmistakable rottenness that made her stomach flip.
Her other hand instinctively pressed against her middle as a queasy itch stirred low in her gut. "What is that?" she mumbled, her voice muffled behind her palm.
She turned toward the window, seeking fresh air to clear her head, but paused mid-step at the low growl of an engine outside. Her heart skipped. Dropping her hand, she rushed to the window, fingers tugging impatiently at the heavy curtains.
Pushing them aside, she squinted into the light of the morning sun. There it was—the sleek black SUV rolling down the marble driveway. It moved slowly but deliberately, flanked by the usual entourage of security vehicles.
Aurora's eyes followed the car until it disappeared through the estate gates, the weight in her chest sinking deeper with each second. Her hand pressed against the cold glass, her breath fogging the surface as she whispered, "Mummy..."
She stood there for a moment, her reflection staring back at her, pale and forlorn against the sunlight. It was foolish, she knew, to expect her mother to look back—or even care that she wasn't there to wave goodbye.
Her throat tightened as she dropped the curtain, letting it fall shut with a heavy swish. She turned on her heel and moved back to her desk, the rich carpet muffling her steps. But the smell followed her, faint but relentless, clinging to the air like it belonged.
Aurora sank into her chair, her hand lingering on the notebook splayed open in front of her. The unfinished lines she'd been working on blurred before her eyes. A bitter laugh slipped from her lips as she tapped her pen absently against the paper.
"I wonder if the rumors are true," she murmured under her breath, her voice just loud enough to break the silence.
The words hung in the air, unanswered. Her gaze darted toward the far corners of the room, her stormy blue eyes searching the shadows as unease coiled tighter in her chest. She hated the way her mind refused to settle, dragging up fragments of whispered warnings she'd overheard from the maids: a thief roaming the area.
Ridiculous, she told herself. No one could break into the estate, not with the gates, the guards, and the endless cameras. And yet...
Her fingers tightened around the pen as a shiver ran down her spine. She could still feel it—that faint, prickling sensation at the back of her neck, like she wasn't alone.
The smell lingered too, stronger now. She flared her nostrils, catching the acrid tang again. It wasn't just rotten, no—it was sour, chemical, almost... alive.
"Get a grip," she muttered, shaking her head as if to dislodge the thoughts clawing at the edges of her mind.
She leaned over the notebook, trying to focus on the story she was writing. But even as she scribbled half-heartedly, the tension in the room seemed to grow thicker, pressing in like an invisible weight.
Her eyes flicked back to the window, her breath shallow. It wasn't just the rumors. Something was wrong.
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Two hours later,
Mrs. Eunice arrived at her grand company, a towering glass edifice that cast a long shadow over the city. The building was a testament to her power, a fortress of wealth and ambition that stood as an unshakable symbol of her success.
As she entered the marble-floored lobby, the usual hum of activity dwindled into near silence. Employees straightened their postures, their voices dropping to hushed murmurs. Eunice's presence had that effect—a mixture of reverence and fear that followed her wherever she went.
She strode purposefully toward the elevator, the faint click of her heels echoing in the vast space. A small entourage of executives followed in her wake, trying to match her pace. Their faces reflected a careful balance of awe and wariness, each one eager to prove their worth while avoiding her infamous ire.
When Eunice stepped into her office, her team was already waiting, seated at the long conference table that dominated the room. The tension in the air was palpable as she entered.
"Good morning, Madam Eunice," they greeted in unison, their voices a forced chorus of deference.
Eunice paused, her sharp gaze sweeping the room like a searchlight. "I don't have time for pleasantries," she said briskly, cutting them off before they could offer more formalities. "Let's make this quick."
Her dismissal stung, though none of them dared show it outright. A few exchanged sidelong glances, their faces betraying mild surprise. One junior member even opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp look from her senior silenced her.
Clearing his throat, the senior staff member—a seasoned executive with graying temples and an air of authority—rose from his chair. "Madam Eunice," he began, his tone measured, "I'll start with an update on the ongoing expansion projects in Asia."
He launched into his report, his voice steady and deliberate as he detailed the progress, challenges, and key milestones. Eunice listened intently, her eyes fixed on him with a laser focus that made even seasoned employees sweat under her scrutiny.
Just as the executive began outlining the company's projections for the next quarter, the door opened. A younger staff member stepped in, clutching a notepad to her chest. She hesitated briefly under Eunice's icy stare but pushed forward.
"Mrs. Eunice," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "someone is requesting to speak to you on the phone. He claims to be the manager of one of your companies in Europe."
The executive faltered, cutting his sentence short. The rest of the room tensed, their gazes shifting to Eunice.
Her brow lifted slightly, a flicker of interest breaking through her otherwise impassive expression. "Oh?" she said, a faint smile curving her lips. "Is that so?"
She turned back to the group. "This meeting is over," she announced, her tone firm and final. "We'll continue another day."
The executives exchanged glances, their faces a mix of confusion and disappointment but without waiting for further acknowledgment, Eunice gestured toward the door. The team stood and filed out, their footsteps quick and subdued as they left her alone in the expansive office.
Eunice crossed to her desk, her fingers brushing the cool, polished surface as she picked up the phone. Her voice was smooth and commanding as she spoke. "Hello, this is Mrs. Eunice."
The reply came almost immediately—a deep, gravelly voice, distorted slightly by the sound of a helicopter in the background. "Hello, madam," the man said, his tone carrying a hint of smugness. "I've got some nice little girls here, madam."
Eunice's fingers stilled on the desk.
"I think you'll make a lot of paper from them," the man continued, his tone casual but tinged with something sinister.
Eunice's lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes gleamed with sharp calculation. "That's good," she replied, her voice calm, almost pleasant.
"You know what to do," she added smoothly. "I'll be expecting you."
She hung up the phone with practiced precision, her hand lingering on the receiver for a beat too long. Her gaze drifted toward the city skyline, her thoughts already spinning as she thought about the call she just made
"You rotten woman!"
a voice hissed, cutting through the silence like a blade. The venom in the tone dripped with disdain, and the words seemed to vibrate in the air around her.
Eunice's breath hitched, her head snapping up. She spun her chair around sharply, her heart lurching as she recognized the figure standing behind her.
"It's you," she breathed, her voice unsteady, a rare crack in her composure. Her sharp eyes narrowed, trying to mask the confusion that flickered across her face. "How did you get in here—and why are you following me?" Her voice rose, cutting through the tension, but it betrayed the rapid, frantic beat of her heart.
Mammon tilted his head, his crimson eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement and irritation. "Make a wish," he said, his tone low and deliberate, the words wrapping around her like a noose.
Eunice stared at him, her mouth opening as if to respond, but no sound came out. Bewilderment swept over her. What did he want? Why was he here? Her mind raced, struggling to piece together any semblance of logic.
When she tried to rise from her chair, her legs refused to cooperate. A wave of cold numbness spread through her body, seizing her limbs like invisible chains. Panic surged through her veins as she realized she couldn't move. Her fingers twitched uselessly against the armrests, and her voice caught in her throat when she tried to call for Security. This was the first time since the death of her husband that Eunice experienced deep fear
Mammon's smirk deepened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Calm down, woman," he said, his tone mocking yet oddly soothing, as if he were speaking to a frightened animal. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the hunt. "I just want to talk, so you'll have to stay still for a while."
Eunice's chest heaved as she fought against the paralysis, her sharp mind grappling with the sheer impossibility of what was happening. "What do you want from me?" she managed to choke out, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound composed.
Mammon's crimson eyes flared slightly, the light within them almost hypnotic. "What do I want?" he repeated, as though the question amused him. "I've already told you. I'm here to grant you three wishes. Whether you use them wisely... well, that's entirely up to you."
She stared at him, disbelief mingling with fear. "Wishes? You're insane—this is insane!" she snapped, though her voice faltered.
Mammon's smile faded, his expression turning cold and almost pitying. "Insane? Oh no, Eunice," he said, leaning closer until his shadow seemed to stretch over her like a shroud. "I am Mammon, the First Son of Satan." His voice dropped lower, the words laced with unearthly power. "And whether you believe it or not, you've bound me to you by breaking my vase. So, for the last time—make. A. Wish."
Eunice's heart thundered in her chest, her breaths coming fast and shallow. She tried to pull away from him, but her body remained frozen, her muscles locked in place. The room felt colder now, as though all the warmth had been sucked out by his presence.
Mammon straightened, his dark gaze sweeping over her with thinly veiled disdain. "You humans," he said, his voice soft but cutting. "So full of greed and arrogance, yet when the power to change your miserable little lives is handed to you, all you can do is tremble."
Eunice clenched her jaw, her mind screaming for control, for a way out of this surreal nightmare.
"You're wasting my time," Mammon said, his tone clipped as he turned slightly, his silhouette sharp against the light streaming through the office windows. "Think carefully, Eunice. You only have three chances. Use them... or lose them."