She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

The mansion loomed in the darkness, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the pale moonlight like a monument to wealth and power.

Seven identical estates surrounded it in a perfect circle, creating an isolated sanctuary far removed from the ordinary world.

Each villa was a masterpiece of modern architecture… clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, manicured gardens that probably cost more to maintain than most people earned in a year.

Inside Villa Number Three, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Damien paced the length of the main hall for what felt like the thousandth time, his footsteps echoing off marble floors that gleamed like mirrors.

The space was enormous… high ceilings with recessed lighting, contemporary furniture that looked too expensive to actually use, abstract art on the walls that probably had price tags with multiple zeros.

A cage made of luxury, he thought bitterly. Still a cage.

Viktor was two floors above, in what they had called the recovery suite.

It was a specialized room fitted with medical monitors, controlled temperature, and reinforced walls to maintain a stable environment for recovery.

Damien checked his watch again — 12:47 AM. They’d brought Viktor upstairs at nine, administered the elixir half an hour later.

Three hours and seventeen minutes of absolute silence.

Three hours and seventeen minutes of torture.

The others were scattered throughout the hall, each dealing with the tension in their own way.

Dimitri sat on the edge of a leather sofa. His hands were clasped together, knuckles white, jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his neck stood out like steel cables.

Andre had his laptop open on the glass coffee table, but the screen had gone dark from inactivity twenty minutes ago.

He stared at it anyway, as if willing data to appear that would reassure him everything was fine.

Pavel stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, forehead pressed against the cool glass, looking out at nothing.

His reflection showed hollow eyes and a face that had aged years in the past few hours.

The silence was broken only by Damien’s footsteps and the soft hum of the mansion’s climate control system.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Expensive shoes on expensive marble.

What if something went wrong?

The thought crashed through Damien’s mind like a wrecking ball, and he forced it back. But it returned, stronger, more insistent.

What if the medicine wasn’t real? What if Alex deceived us? What if Viktor is dying right now and we’re just sitting here like fools?

“Stop pacing,” Dimitri said quietly, his voice rough. “You’re making it worse.”

Damien stopped mid-step, realized Dimitri was right, then resumed pacing anyway because standing still felt like surrender.

“How long has it been?” Pavel asked without turning from the window.

“You asked that five minutes ago,” Andre replied, his voice flat and emotionless… the tone of someone working very hard to stay calm. “Three hours and eighteen minutes since we left him up there and still nothing.”

“That’s too long,” Pavel said. “Healing serums work in minutes, maybe an hour for severe cases. Three hours…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Three hours suggested something had gone catastrophically wrong.

“It wasn’t a normal healing serum,” Andre said, though his voice lacked conviction. “We all saw it. That vial… the liquid… it wasn’t like anything in our databases.”

“Exactly,” Pavel turned from the window, his face twisted with barely contained panic.

“It wasn’t like anything we know. What if it was poison? What if Alex is working with Blackthorne? What if this whole thing was a trap?”

“Shut up,” Dimitri growled, not looking at him. “Just… shut up.”

“Viktor trusted him,” Damien said, still pacing. The words came out automatic, a mantra he’d been repeating to himself for hours. “Viktor read people for fifteen years. If he trusted Alex…”

“He was dying!” Pavel’s voice cracked. “Desperate people make desperate choices. We all wanted to believe because the alternative was watching him die!”

The accusation hung in the air like smoke.

Damien stopped pacing and turned to face Pavel, his expression hard. “You think I don’t know that? You think any of us don’t know that?”

He gestured violently at the ceiling, toward the room where Viktor lay in unknown condition. “But what were our options, Pavel? Wait for Blackthorne to find us? Watch him cough up blood until there was nothing left? At least this way he had a chance!”

“A chance based on what?” Pavel shot back. “The word of a college student? A fancy vial that looked pretty? We gambled Viktor’s life on…”

“On Viktor’s own decision!” Dimitri was on his feet now, his considerable bulk making the space feel smaller. “He chose this. He looked Alex in the eye and made a choice. You want to disrespect that?”

Pavel’s mouth opened, then closed. His shoulders sagged and he turned back to the window. “I just… We can’t lose him.”

The fight drained out of the room as quickly as it had ignited, leaving only exhausted fear in its wake.

Damien resumed pacing, slower now. His mind wouldn’t stop churning through possibilities, each worse than the last.

What if Viktor is already dead?

What if the elixir was incompatible with Enhanced physiology?

What if Alex didn’t know what he was giving us?

What if this was all a setup and Blackthorne operatives are surrounding us right now?

“Don’t worry,” Damien said, more to himself than the others. “He’ll be fine. I’m sure.”

The words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

But he couldn’t afford to lose hope. Not now. Not when they’d already bet everything.

And if Viktor trusted Alex… then Damien would trust Viktor’s judgment. Even if every instinct screamed that three hours of silence meant something had gone terribly wrong.

Andre finally looked up from his dark laptop screen. “The recovery suite is soundproofed and energy-shielded. We wouldn’t hear anything even if there were… complications.”

“That’s not helping,” Dimitri said flatly.

“I’m just stating facts…”

“Well, state them inside your head.”

Andre subsided, returning his gaze to the blank screen.

Damien checked his watch again. 12:52 AM. Five minutes had passed that felt like five hours.

How much longer?

Do we wait until morning? Do we break down the door?

What if he’s calling for help and we can’t hear him?

“I’m going up there,” Pavel said suddenly, pushing away from the window.

“No.” Damien’s voice carried absolute authority. “Alex said not to disturb the process. He said the room would handle everything.”

“Alex said. Alex said.” Pavel’s laugh was bitter. “We’re taking orders from a kid we met three days ago.”

“A kid who produced a Divine-tier healing artifact,” Andre pointed out. “A kid who has access to resources that make House Blackthorne’s technology look primitive.”

“Or a very convincing con artist with a shiny bottle.”

“Pavel.” Dimitri’s voice was quiet but carried the weight of a warning. “Sit down. We wait.”

For a moment, it looked like Pavel might argue. Then the fight went out of him and he slumped into one of the absurdly expensive chairs, his head in his hands.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate not knowing. I hate waiting. I hate that we’re helpless.”

“We’re not helpless,” Damien said, though he felt exactly that. “We made a choice. We’re seeing it through.”

“And if it’s the wrong choice?”

Damien didn’t answer because there was no good answer to that question.

The silence stretched again, broken only by footsteps and breathing and the quiet hum of wealth all around them.

Then… a faint sound above them, deliberate and unfamiliar.

A door shifting open.

The four men snapped their attention to the staircase. Hearts hammered as pure adrenaline surged through them, muscles tensing, every sense screaming that something had changed.

Footsteps. Slow, measured, descending the stairs.

Damien held his breath. Next to him, he could feel Dimitri tense, ready to spring into action. Andre had gone completely still. Pavel’s hands were shaking.

The footsteps grew closer.

And then, at the top of the staircase, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Viktor.

But not Viktor as they’d last seen him… pale, blood-stained, barely able to breathe.

This Viktor stood straight, his posture strong and commanding. His face had color. His eyes were clear and alert.

He looked down at them from the top of the stairs, and a slow smile spread across his face.

“Gentlemen,” Viktor said, his voice powerful and steady, carrying none of the weakness that had plagued him for weeks. “I believe we need to have a very serious discussion about Alex Hale.”

The relief that flooded through Damien was so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. Viktor was alive. Not just alive… restored.

Whatever that elixir had been, whatever Alex had given them…

It had worked.

***

Author’s Note:

Thanks for reading this Chapter!

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Stay tuned; things are only going to get more intense!