The Heavenly Demon of Terror

Roselle's POV

The banquet hall was radiant—lavish chandeliers, expensive wines, soft classical music in the background.

All the high-society parasites gathered, whispering and smiling like wolves in designer suits.

I sat at the head of a private lounge, legs crossed, glass of whiskey in hand, eyes half-lidded in amusement.

That was when the doors swung open.

Joshua Leinin entered like he owned the room—slick suit, arrogant stride, and that same smug little grin. And trailing behind him, like a shadow made of guilt and bad decisions, was Abigail Bardot, dressed in white, trying to look unbothered.

I smirked.

"So the comedy duo arrives," I murmured, swirling my drink.

Just then, I saw him—Joshua—step right into Kaisel's path.

My assistant, loyal, sharp, silent. Kaisel never needed to prove himself. He handled everything from murders to meetings like a damn ghost. But tonight? Joshua decided to play smart.

He shoulder-checked him. Deliberately.