THE DEVIL'S OBSESSION

CHAPTER ONE London, England — 11:32 p.m. London was beautiful at night, especially when it rained. But Isabella Bennett wasn't admiring the scenery. She was running. Her heels struck the wet pavement as she hurried through Kensington, clutching her handbag. For twenty minutes, a strange man had been following her. She had noticed him outside the art gallery where she worked, then again at a nearby café. Now, he was getting closer. She stopped in front of a closed jewellery shop and checked her phone. Three missed calls from an unknown number. Another message appeared. UNKNOWN NUMBER: Stop asking questions about your father's death. Her stomach tightened. Three weeks earlier, her father, Edward Bennett, had died in what the police described as a car accident. But Isabella knew something wasn't right. During his final weeks, he had received mysterious calls, and repeatedly checked the windows. Before she could think further, another message arrived. UNKNOWN NUMBER: Your father made a mistake. Don't make the same one. She looked across the street. The man was still there. Suddenly, a black Bentley stopped beside her. Its rear window descended, revealing a handsome man in a tailored black suit. His dark hair was neatly styled, and a faint scar crossed his left eyebrow. His eyes were cold and unreadable. "Miss Bennett." She frowned. "Do I know you?" "Not personally. Get in." "Excuse me?" "Unless you'd prefer to explain yourself to the gentleman approaching you." She glanced behind her. The stranger was moving closer, one hand disappearing beneath his coat. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Alexander Blackwood." The name meant nothing to her. "Get in, Isabella." Something in his voice frightened her enough to obey. The Bentley pulled away. "Who was that man?" she asked. "Someone with poor judgement." "Was he following me?" "Yes. For four nights." She stared at him. "How do you know?" "Because I've been following him." "That's supposed to make me feel better?" "No." He instructed his driver, James, to take another route. "Where are you taking me?" "Somewhere safe." "I didn't agree to this." "You can argue when you're no longer being followed." She folded her arms. "You're incredibly arrogant." "I've been called worse." After a moment, she asked, "Why are you helping me?" Alexander looked towards the window. "Because I need you alive." Her expression changed. "Why?" He turned towards her. "Careful. People who become comfortable using my first name usually regret it." Twenty minutes later, the Bentley passed through enormous iron gates. Beyond them stood Blackwood Manor, a magnificent country estate surrounded by ancient trees. "Where are we?" Isabella asked. "My home." A grey-haired butler welcomed them. "Good evening, sir." "Thomas. Prepare the east wing." Thomas smiled politely at Isabella. "Welcome to Blackwood Manor, Miss Bennett." "I haven't agreed to stay," she protested. Alexander removed his coat. "You're exhausted, frightened and freezing. The guest rooms are warm. You can argue after you've eaten." "I can argue perfectly well now." "I don't doubt that." Later, Isabella sat in an elegant sitting room when Alexander entered. "Why did you bring me here?" "Your father and I had business together." "My father? He was an accountant." "He was also one of my most trusted associates." She stared at him. "What kind of business?" "The kind that should have remained private." "Was it illegal?" Alexander remained silent. "Was my father involved in something criminal?" "Your father was involved in things you know nothing about." Isabella shook her head. "My father was a good man." "Good men make terrible decisions." His words hurt. "Are you saying he deserved to die?" "No. Your father didn't deserve to die." For a moment, she noticed something resembling regret in his expression. "Do you know who killed him?" "I'm working on it." "Why?" "Because shortly before his death, your father disappeared with something that belonged to me." "What did he take?" "I don't know. He was clever enough to hide it." Alexander leaned forward. "People are searching for whatever he left behind. Unfortunately, they've started asking questions about you." "Why would anyone hurt me?" "Because you're his daughter." Later that night, Isabella stood beside her bedroom window when her phone vibrated. It was her best friend, Charlotte. CHARLOTTE: Where are you? Please tell me you're home. ISABELLA: I'm at someone's house. I'll explain tomorrow. Charlotte immediately called. "Whose house?" "Alexander Blackwood's." There was silence. "Isabella, do you know who that man is?" "Apparently, he knew my father." "He's dangerous. His family has money, political connections and influence everywhere. His father was a nightmare, and Alexander is worse." Before Isabella could respond, her bedroom door opened. Alexander stood there. "End the call." She frowned. "I'm speaking to someone." "I can see that." "Then you can wait." His gaze shifted towards the phone. "Charlotte." Isabella froze. "How do you know her?" He ignored her question. "Goodnight, Miss Bennett." He turned to leave. "You're safer here than you've been anywhere else in the last month." The door closed. Isabella stared after him. How much did this man know about her? A knock interrupted her thoughts. Thomas entered carrying a tray of tea. "Miss Bennett, there are things about your father's relationship with this family that you haven't been told." "Such as?" "Your father visited this house regularly." "Why?" "That's something you should ask Mr Alexander." "Did you know my father?" "Yes. He was a good man. And the only person I've ever seen walk into this house and make Mr Alexander Blackwood afraid." Isabella's eyes widened. "Afraid?" Thomas nodded before leaving. She noticed a small white envelope beneath the saucer. Her name was written across it. Inside was a folded piece of paper. The handwriting was unmistakable. Her father's. My darling girl, if Alexander Blackwood ever comes looking for you, do not believe anything he tells you. Her hands trembled. Beneath the message was another sentence. Especially if he tells you he is trying to protect you. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside. Isabella opened the door. Alexander stood in the corridor, his eyes immediately settling on the letter. "Where did you get that?" "Did you know my father left this?" "Give me the letter." "No!" His jaw tightened. "Isabella." "Tell me what it means!" "Your father was supposed to have destroyed every copy." "Every copy of what?" "Something that should never have existed." She swallowed. "What did my father do?" Alexander stared at her. "Your father didn't simply work for me. He was the reason my family is still alive." Before she could respond, his phone rang. "Speak." A man's urgent voice came through. "Sir, the perimeter cameras have been disabled. Someone is inside the estate." Alexander's expression hardened. "Lock down the entire property. Nobody enters or leaves." A loud crash echoed downstairs. Alexander immediately stepped in front of Isabella and pulled a black handgun from beneath his shirt. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Silence." Footsteps approached. Then a familiar voice echoed from the corridor. "Alexander? Are you awake, brother?" A younger man appeared, dressed in an elegant charcoal-grey suit. Alexander raised his weapon. "Sebastian." His younger brother smiled. "Don't look so pleased to see me." His gaze shifted towards Isabella. "Well, well. Is this the girl?" "Leave," Alexander ordered. Sebastian ignored him. "Hello, sweetheart. There's something you should know about your father." "Don't," Alexander warned. Sebastian laughed. "Your father didn't die in an accident. Someone killed him." Isabella turned towards Alexander, but he remained focused on his brother. Sebastian opened his leather folder and handed her a photograph. It showed her father standing outside Blackwood Manor beside a sixteen-year-old Isabella. Opposite them stood a much younger Alexander. Her eyes widened. "How do you know me?" Sebastian laughed softly. "Oh, Isabella. You really don't remember?" He stepped towards the staircase. "Your father made certain you forgot." Alexander's voice was dangerously low. "Get out of my house." Sebastian smiled. "One last thing. Mother was right." He glanced at Isabella. "She's the one who will destroy you." Then he disappeared into the darkness. Isabella turned towards Alexander. "Tell me the truth." He slowly lowered his weapon. "Not tonight." "No! You're going to tell me now." He approached her, his expression unreadable. "Your father brought you to this house twelve years ago, Isabella." Her breathing became uneven. "Why?" Alexander looked at the photograph on the floor. Then he delivered the words that shattered everything she thought she knew END OF CHAPTER ONE.