SIX MONTHS TO RUIN HIM

THE MAN IN THE DARK

VERONICA’S POV

My heart stopped as I slowly turned to the shadow standing in the doorway, then the lights went out.

I froze. For a few seconds, I couldn't hear anything except my own breathing. My grip tightened around the vase.

"Who's there?" Again nothing.

I took one slow step backward, then another.

The darkness felt different now. It wasn't the ordinary darkness of a room without electricity.

It felt like someone was standing in it with me.

Watching me, waiting.

"Who's there?" I whispered again.

A floorboard creaked.

"Stay away from me!" I screamed as I swung the vase toward the sound.

Silence.

Then suddenly, something crashed behind me. I screamed and turned around. A glass shattered against the wall. I stumbled backward, my heart pounding.

"Please... I don't want any trouble." My voice trembled.

"You already have trouble, Veronica." A man's voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

I stopped breathing. It was the same voice from the phone. Deep, calm, cold.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

I reached into my pocket for my phone. The screen lit up.

2% battery.

I quickly turned on the flashlight which swept across the room. Empty, the room was empty.

I moved it toward the doorway. Still nothing.

"Where are you?"

A shadow moved behind me.

I spun around.

Nothing.

Then I felt something cold against the back of my neck.

I screamed.

"Don't." The voice was right beside my ear.

I swung around and dropped the vase, a man stood behind me. Tall, completely dressed in black, his face was partially hidden by the darkness.

I couldn't see him clearly, but I could see his eyes. Cold, unnaturally calm. He looked at me for several seconds. Then his eyes moved toward my father's bed.

"He trusted you." He said coldly.

I swallowed.

"What?"

"Your father… He trusted you more than anyone." He said as he stepped closer.

"How do you know my father?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he looked at the photograph I was still holding, my mother's photograph.

His expression changed.

Only slightly, but I noticed.

"You shouldn't have found that." He said.

"What did she do?" I asked slowly backing away.

He stared at me.

"Your mother?"

"Yes." I answered.

He smiled but not kindly.

"Ask your father."

My stomach dropped.

"My father is dead."

"I know."

"Then how am I supposed to ask him?"

The man stepped closer.

"You can't."

He reached into his coat.

I instinctively stepped back.

But instead of pulling out a weapon, he dropped something onto the floor, a key. It landed between us.

"Your father left it for you."

I stared at it.

"What does it open?"

"You'll find out."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not."

He turned toward the window about to leave.

"Wait!" I screamed.

He stopped.

"Who are you?" I asked, in a more authoritative voice this time.

He looked back at me and for the first time, I saw his face clearly. Something about him felt strangely familiar.

Not familiar like I'd met him before. Familiar like I'd seen his face somewhere.

"You'll know soon enough."

He opened the window.

"Wait!" I screamed as I rushed toward him.

But by the time I reached the window, he was gone.

I looked outside, nothing… just the empty street. The black SUV was gone too.

I looked down at the key in my hand. There was a small engraving on it.

L.I.

I closed my fingers around it.

Then I heard sirens, the police had arrived.

Three hours later, I sat at the kitchen table while two police officers questioned me.

"Did you recognize the man?" One of the officers asked.

"No."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

I stared at the cup of untouched water in front of me.

"He said my father trusted me."

The officer wrote something down.

"Anything else?"

"He knew about the photograph."

"What photograph?"

I hadn't told them about my mother. I didn't know why. Maybe because something inside me told me not to.

"Nothing." I said hesitantly.

The officer looked at me suspiciously.

"Miss Hale, if someone broke into your house tonight, you need to tell us everything."

"I know."

"Was anything stolen?"

I looked toward my father's room. His phone, the mysterious phone, the photograph, but the photograph was still in my hand.

"No."

"We'll increase patrols around the property." The officer said as he stood up to leave.

I nodded.

When they left, I finally allowed myself to breathe.

My brother still hadn't answered so I called him again. Straight to voicemail.

"Please be okay," I whispered.

I went upstairs.

The house was silent. Too silent.

I entered my father's room.

The bed was empty now, the paramedics had taken him away. I stared at the space where he had been.

For the first time since I found him, I allowed myself to cry. I sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Dad." My voice broke.

"I should've noticed something was wrong." I wiped my eyes.

Then I remembered the key. I looked at it again.

L.I.

Lordwood International.

My father's business partner, a name I hadn't heard in years.

I immediately remembered something. A man, a photograph, a newspaper article.

Adrian Lordwood, the youngest billionaire in the country, the Lordwood family's golden heir.

My father's former business rival, and the last person my father had ever wanted me around.

I grabbed my laptop, searched his name.

The first picture that appeared made my stomach twist.

It was him. Tall, dark-haired, perfectly dressed, cold gray eyes.

The headline beneath his photograph read:

ADRIAN BLACKWOOD: THE BILLIONAIRE WHO NEVER LOSES.

I stared at the screen, then my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I opened the message.

YOU WANT ANSWERS?

My fingers went cold.

Another message appeared.

GO TO LORDWOOD INTERNATIONAL TOMORROW.

ASK ADRIAN LORDWOOD WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FATHER.

My heart pounded.

A final message appeared…