Chapter Five.

Two Years Later…

Belladonna had clawed her way up from nothing.

She had gone from sleeping in the café basement to having her own apartment. Sure, it was small. Sure, the landlord was an absolute gremlin who smelled like expired milk. And sure, the walls were thin enough that she had learned way too much about her neighbor's romantic life.

But it was hers.

The only problem? Rent was due.

Which was why she was currently working herself half to death, picking up every extra shift she could.

She wiped down the café counter, stifling a yawn. It was late, and the place was nearly empty—just one guy in an expensive suit, casually swirling his overpriced espresso like he was contemplating the stock market and the meaning of life at the same time.

Belladonna paid him no mind.

Until she realized he was staring at her.

Like, really staring.

She scowled. "You need something, or are you just planning to burn a hole through my skull with your eyes?"

The man—sharp suit, sleek green hair, gold rings on his fingers—smirked. "Oh, I definitely need something."

Belladonna crossed her arms. "Well, unless you need a refill, you're out of luck."

"I need you, actually."

She blinked. "...Excuse me?"

"I'll give you ten million dollars if you marry me."

Silence.

The ceiling fan whirred. The clock ticked. A single lonely cough sounded from the back of the café.

Belladonna slowly set down her cleaning rag. "Okay. I think you've had too much caffeine—"

"I'm perfectly sober." The man set his espresso down and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "The name's Lucien, by the way. And I never joke about money."

Belladonna gawked at him.

Lucien? As in, one of the seven demonic pains-in-her-ass-husbands?

As in, the ones she had totally abandoned after her unwanted coronation?

As in, the reason she was supposed to be ruling hell and not waiting tables for tips?

Oh. Oh, no.

She cleared her throat. "Uh. Listen. Lucien. What are you doing here?"

He grinned, utterly unbothered. "Oh, I own this café now."

Belladonna choked. "You what—"

"Yeah, you were working too hard. Thought I'd make things easier. You don't have to worry about rent anymore, either—I bought the building."

She just stared at him.

Lucien's smirk widened. "Marry me, and I'll throw in a penthouse."

Belladonna inhaled slowly, counted to five, and then grabbed the nearest napkin dispenser.

And threw it at his face.

Lucien caught the napkin dispenser with infuriating ease, his smirk only deepening. He set it down neatly on the counter, tapping his fingers against it like this was all some grand negotiation instead of complete insanity.

Belladonna exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. This man is impossible.

"Let me get this straight. You show up out of nowhere, buy my workplace, buy my damn apartment building, and then, out of all things, you propose?" She gestured vaguely at him. "With money?"

Lucien leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "Well, I did consider a grand romantic gesture, but I figured you preferred something practical." His emerald eyes gleamed with amusement. "Am I wrong?"

Belladonna stared at him.

This had to be a dream. Or a fever hallucination.

Lucien was watching her like she was the most entertaining thing in the world, like a gambler watching dice roll in his favor.

"You're insane," she muttered.

"And yet," he said smoothly, "here I am. And here you are."

"Not marrying you."

"Yet."

Belladonna groaned, rubbing her temples. "Lucien, I left. I am not your queen. I have zero interest in being your queen. Why the hell are you here?"

Lucien chuckled, twirling a gold coin between his fingers. "Because, my dear Belladonna, you may have left—but you didn't break the contract."

She froze.

Lucien's smirk widened. "Oh? Did you think it would be that easy?"

Belladonna felt the blood drain from her face. "The contract?" she repeated. "What contract?"

Lucien leaned closer, his voice dipping into something indulgent and sinister. "The one you signed the moment the crown was placed on your head. Rulership is bound by covenant, Belladonna. You may have walked away, but the realm is still yours." His eyes gleamed greedily. "And so are we. So you have no choice but to choose which one of us will be your husband."

Her stomach twisted.

No. No, no, no.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Lucien sighed as if she were being unreasonable. "Belladonna, I take what I want. I acquire." He gestured lazily around the café. "I own this now. I own the apartment building you leave in. I could buy this whole street if I wanted to. Because when I see something I desire, I make it mine." His smile sharpened. "And I desire you."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Lucien wasn't just obsessed with winning—he needed to have the best, the rarest, the untouchable. It wasn't about love. It was about ownership.

He owned wealth, power, influence. But that wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Lucien stood, adjusting his sleeves, his fingers grazing the gold cufflinks—each one embedded with an insignia that marked his dominion. He had already amassed kingdoms and fortunes, but his hunger was endless.

"I'll give you time to think about my offer," he murmured, eyes trailing over her like she was already his. "The penthouse deal expires in three days, though. Think wisely and choose me."

He turned toward the exit, pausing briefly at the door. "Oh, and Belladonna?"

She swallowed hard. "What?"

His smirk deepened, voice a velvet purr. "You should start preparing. The others will not be as patient as I am."

And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving Belladonna gripping the counter, her heart pounding in her chest.

She let out a slow breath and slumped against the counter.

Her past had finally caught up with her.

And judging by Lucien's words, this was only the beginning.

"Ah, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse," Belladonna thought, gripping the counter so hard her knuckles turned white. "I don't need such distractions right now. I have to get revenge… Ugh."

Lucien and his ridiculous, greedy propositions were the last things she needed. She had spent two years carefully clawing her way back from nothing, staying under the radar, planning her next steps. And now, just like that, he had waltzed in, throwing money around like it was confetti, upending her entire world with a single smirk.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Lucien was dangerous—not because of his power, but because of his persistence. If he wanted something, he wouldn't stop until he got it.

' He is greed after all'

And unfortunately for her, she was now at the top of his list.

"No. Focus. You don't have time for this."

She still had unfinished business, debts to settle, and people to make pay. Lucien and his stupid games were a distraction she couldn't afford.

When she closed the café for the day, Belladonna exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. The night air was crisp, cutting through the lingering warmth of the day, but she barely noticed. Her mind was racing.

Lucien's presence meant trouble. It meant eyes on her when she had spent two years making sure no one was watching. If he was here, then the others wouldn't be far behind.

And if the others came looking… then her enemies would take notice too.

Belladonna locked the café doors and started walking, pulling out her phone. She needed to check her bank account, confirm how much she had left, and figure out how long she could last before she needed a new plan.

"Right, what debt do I have to pay next?" she muttered, navigating to her loan statements.

The screen loaded.

And her steps slowed.

Paid. All of it. Every last cent.

She stared at the screen.

No. No, no, no.

Her breath hitched as she scrolled through the transaction history. The payments had been made in full, processed just hours ago.

There was no note. No sender name. Just a sickeningly large deposit wiping away her struggles in one fell swoop.

Her grip on the phone tightened.

"Lucien."

Her stomach churned. He had bought her workplace, bought her apartment building, and now this? Her debt was erased like it was nothing.

She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

This wasn't kindness. This wasn't generosity.

It was a chain. A reminder that Lucien had power over her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

And worse?

It meant he knew.

He knew exactly what she owed. Exactly what her financial struggles were. Which meant he had been watching her for longer than she thought.

Belladonna clenched her fists.

Lucien was playing his game.

But he had underestimated her if he thought she'd just accept it.