𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 || 𝘏𝘢𝘻𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭

| 19 |

Estella had quickly returned home after her the turn of events. Honestly, she couldn't quite place a finger on how she was feeling at the moment. Was she guilty? Yes. Did she regret her actions? Maybe. Was she going to try and sort things out with Lucifer? No. One thing she was certain of was she was not going to crawl over to the King of Hell and beg for his forgiveness. No—she was better than that. And what better way to cope with the guilt by locking herself alone in her home to slowly rot away.

She draped herself over a couch in the lounging room belonging to her estate, ignoring all properness and taking to lift her legs up, laying them atop the couch's arm. She held a cushion over her face, snuggling into it, getting her makeup slightly ruined in the process before she heard scurrying of feet coming towards her. She peeked out from the soft comforter, her eyes landing on one of the imps who worked in her estate—not Dirk, though.

The imp was a bit taller than Dirk, and he looked much older than the imp she had grown fond of.

From the looks of it, the imp had become aware of her agitated mood, as he gently placed a bottle of alcohol onto the coffee table, along with a glass for herself to drink.

To be fair, she didn't even know she had alcohol stocked at home, thinking she had gotten rid of all the vile drinks.

The aged imp was about to quickly scurry away and to continue his duties when she suddenly stopped him by pushing herself up from the couch and locking her eyes with his dull ones.

He didn't look afraid. More like anxious, she thought. But as she wasn't really in the mood to decipher her workers' behaviors, she didn't push him and instead asked for Dirk's presence.

"Can you ask for Dirk to meet me?" She said gently, surprised by how steady her voice was, seeming as she was in a completely depressed state earlier.

"Of course, Your Grace," the imp swiftly replied, bowing his head low before shuffling out of the room, off to retrieve the younger imp.

She waited patiently on the couch, subconsciously tapping her fingers against her thigh in a rhythmic manner, her gaze lingering on the bottle of alcohol before her, contemplating whether or not it best to drink. However, she was soon cut out from her thoughts by the sound of feet clicking on the floor, announcing Dirk's presence.

"You wanted to see me?" He began, stepping into the room in a steady pace, stopping short near her. But as she continued to intently stare at the beverage placed on the table, he added, "Estella?" Once hearing her name slipping from the imp's mouth, she finally turned to face him, her hardened eyes immediately softening upon landing on his form.

Images of her and Dirk living a normal and peaceful life flashed through her mind, reminding her of what she could've had if it weren't for the loss of Penelope who was stripped away all too soon unjustly.

A proper family.

She longed to be loved platonically, something she had learned to feel between her and Dirk over time, giving her an impression of maybe, just maybe, they could be family. With her as a mother figure, and Dirk resembling close to a child of her own.

But then the image of her hovering over the form of her dead Father flashed across her mind. Another type of longing following the thought. Finishing the task she had started since she was back in Heaven, ending it once and for all—avenging Penelope, and obtaining power following after the defeat of God—it was all too tempting.

Love or power?

Maybe in another life, she'd try for the other option.

She let out a sigh, finally coming to a decision, her choice now set in stone—unwavering.