REBIRTH OF THE PATHETIC HUSBAND

Chapter 8: Revenge

With a powerful beat of my wings, I shot forward, closing the distance between myself and the maid in an instant. I wrapped my arms around her just as she was about to hit the ground, the force of my momentum sending us skidding across the grass.

For a moment, everything was still. The maid lay in my arms, her eyes wide with shock, her body trembling. I stared down at her, my own heart racing, my wings still spread wide behind me.

I had done it. I had saved her.

Lilith’s voice cut through the stillness of the night, sharp and melodic, like the chime of a bell laced with poison. “Nicely done,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement as she clapped her hands slowly, the sound echoing in the vast, moonlit compound. I turned to see her standing a few feet away, her crimson gown shimmering like liquid fire under the pale light, her crimson eyes glowing with a mix of pride and mockery.

I carefully placed the maid on her feet, my hands steadying her as she trembled like a leaf in a storm. Her wide, terrified eyes darted between me and Lilith, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She looked like she had just stepped out of a nightmare, and I couldn’t blame her. I had just sprouted wings and saved her from a fatal fall. If I were in her shoes, I’d be shaking too.

“That was… cool,” I said, my voice shaky as I tried to process what had just happened. My wings, massive and black, stretched out behind me, their feathers glistening faintly in the moonlight. They felt strange, like an extension of myself I hadn’t known existed, yet somehow natural, as if they had always been a part of me.

Lilith raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Cool?” she repeated, her voice laced with amusement. “You just discovered one of your most basic abilities, and all you can say is ‘cool’?”

I shook my head, my expression hardening. “Not cool,” I said firmly, my voice rising. “The maid almost died. Because of me. Because of us. That’s not cool, Lilith. That’s… that’s messed up.”

Lilith sighed, her smile fading as she took a step closer to me. Her crimson eyes bore into mine, their intensity almost overwhelming. “John,” she said, her voice low and deliberate, “you haven’t accepted who you are yet. You’re Lucifer now. The king of hell. You shouldn’t feel pity or sorrow for others. They’re beneath you. They’re nothing.”

I shook my head again, my jaw tightening. “I might have sold my soul to Lucifer,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me, “but I’m still in control of my body. I’m still me. And I’m not going to start treating people like they’re disposable.”

Lilith’s expression shifted, her smile returning, but this time it was colder, more calculating. “About that,” she said, her tone almost casual, “I forgot to mention something. Lucifer can take control of your body whenever he wants. He’s a part of you now, and if he decides to take over, there’s not much you can do to stop him. Unless, of course, you’re strong enough to fight him off. But trust me, that won’t be easy.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach churned as the reality of my situation sank in. I wasn’t just sharing my body with Lucifer—I was at war with him. And if I wasn’t careful, he could take over completely.

Before I could respond, Lilith turned her attention to the maid, who was still standing there, trembling and wide-eyed. “This human has heard more than enough,” Lilith said, her voice cold and dismissive. She walked over to the maid, her movements graceful and predatory, like a lioness stalking her prey.

The maid flinched as Lilith leaned in, her crimson eyes locking onto the maid’s. “Forget everything that happened,” Lilith said, her voice soft but commanding. “Forget everything you heard. Go back inside the mansion and continue your duties.”

The maid’s expression went blank, her fear replaced by a vacant, almost zombie-like obedience. She nodded slowly, her movements mechanical, and turned toward the mansion, walking away without another word.

I watched her go, a mix of relief and guilt swirling in my chest. At least she was safe. At least she wouldn’t remember any of this. But the fact that Lilith could control her so easily, so effortlessly, sent a chill down my spine.

As the maid disappeared into the mansion, I finally took a moment to look around. The compound was massive, sprawling, and opulent in a way that made the Prestwicks’ estate look like a modest cottage. The mansion itself was a towering structure of dark stone and gold accents, its windows tall and arched, its roof adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shift and dance in the moonlight. The grounds were immaculate, with perfectly manicured lawns, towering trees, and a fountain that sparkled like liquid silver in the center of the courtyard.

To the side, under a massive car shed, sat a collection of luxury vehicles—sleek, black, and undoubtedly worth more than most people’s homes. The entire place reeked of power and wealth, the kind that could only belong to someone like Lucifer.

My gaze drifted back to the window I had jumped from, and my stomach twisted as I realized just how high it was. The drop had been at least five stories, maybe more. If I hadn’t sprouted wings when I did…

“John,” Lilith’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, her tone sharp but not unkind. “You should retract your wings. They’re a bit… conspicuous.”

I blinked, suddenly remembering the massive black wings still spread out behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, the sight of them still surreal, and then back at Lilith. “How do I… you know, put them away?” I asked, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

Lilith smirked, clearly amused by my ignorance. “Focus,” she said, her voice calm and instructive. “Imagine them folding, retracting back into your body. They’re a part of you now. You just need to will them to disappear.”

I nodded, closing my eyes and focusing on the sensation of the wings. They felt heavy, powerful, like they were brimming with energy. I pictured them folding, shrinking, disappearing back into my body. For a moment, nothing happened. But then I felt a strange, almost electric sensation ripple through me, and when I opened my eyes, the wings were gone.

I reached behind me, my fingers brushing against my back, but there was no trace of them—no scars, no marks, nothing. It was as if they had never been there.

“Good,” Lilith said, her smile widening. “You’re learning. But don’t get too comfortable. This is just the beginning.”

I stared at her, my mind racing with questions, with fears, with doubts. But before I could say anything, she turned and began walking back toward the mansion, her crimson gown trailing behind her like a river of blood.

“Come on, John,” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the night. “We have a lot to discuss.”

I hesitated for a moment, my gaze lingering on the mansion, on the compound, on the life I had been thrust into. Then, with a deep breath, I followed her, my footsteps heavy but determined.

As we stepped into the living room, my breath caught in my throat. The sheer opulence of the space was staggering—so vast, so decadent, it felt like walking into a palace carved from pure gold. My mouth nearly dropped open as I took it all in.

The ceilings stretched impossibly high, their surfaces covered in intricate frescoes of celestial battles. The figures were so lifelike they seemed to move under the flickering glow of the chandeliers. And what chandeliers they were—massive, dripping with crystals that caught the light and scattered it into dazzling rainbows. Each one hung from thick golden chains, gleaming in the dim glow.

The walls were paneled in dark mahogany, with veins of gold forming swirling patterns that shimmered as I moved. Beneath my feet, the polished black marble floor was so smooth it reflected everything above like a dark, still lake. Plush rugs of gold and crimson sprawled beneath furniture that seemed more like thrones than mere chairs—oversized, upholstered in the richest velvet, their frames carved from ebony and gilded in gold.

A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel carved into snarling demons with ruby eyes that gleamed like embers. But the true centerpiece was an enormous television, nearly spanning an entire wall, its sleek screen framed in gold and obsidian.

Lilith strolled toward it, her fingers grazing the back of a sofa before she picked up a sleek remote and pressed a button. The screen flickered to life, washing the room in a soft, cinematic glow. She barely glanced at it. Instead, she moved toward the inbuilt bar—a masterpiece of dark wood and gold accents, lined with bottles of liquor so rare they probably cost more than my old life. She lifted a crystal decanter filled with liquid amber, pouring two glasses with effortless grace.

I barely registered the drinks. My attention was locked onto the screen.

BREAKING NEWS: TRAGIC DEATH OF JOHN PRESTWICK, SON-IN-LAW Of Prestwick Dynasty.

A cold knot twisted in my stomach as my own face—my old face—flashed across the screen. The reporter’s voice was smooth, rehearsed.

"John Prestwick, husband of Eleanor Prestwick, was found dead early this morning in what authorities believe was a violent altercation with a local gang. Sources say the young businessman was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, leading to a fatal confrontation."

Lies.

My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms. I knew the truth. Christopher had lured me out, poisoned my drink, put three bullets in me, and left me to bleed out in the dirt. And now, they were spinning it into some street crime. They were making it seem like I was always a bad person.

The screen cut to an interview with the Prestwick family, standing outside their mansion like grieving royalty. Eleanor, dressed in black, dabbed at dry eyes with a handkerchief.

"John was... troubled," she said, her voice dripping with false sorrow. "He was never the husband I deserved. Always distant. Always reckless. I warned him about the company he kept, but he never listened. And now... this."

Mrs. Prestwick stepped forward next, her sharp features twisted into a mask of disdain. "We accepted him into our family out of pity. But let’s be honest—he was never worthy of the Prestwick name. Perhaps his death was fate’s way of correcting our mistake."

Something inside me snapped.

A searing heat erupted in my chest, crawling up my throat, burning behind my eyes. My vision tinted red, the edges of the room blurring into a haze of fury. Without thinking, I stretched out my hand—

The television exploded into flames.

The screen cracked, blackened, then burst into a roaring inferno, the fire licking hungrily at the gold frame. Smoke curled toward the ceiling, the scent of burning plastic and ozone thick in the air.

I barely had time to process what I’d done before I felt arms sliding around me from behind. Lilith pressed against my back, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered,

"Oh, my love... you’ll get your revenge."

Her voice was a dark promise, wrapping around me like a serpent’s embrace. I knew I would have my revenge—I had the power to make it happen. But the question remained: how should I exact it?