FALLING FOR MY FATHER'S DANGEROUS FRIEND

THE FACE IN THE PHOTOS

Gerard entered Calian’s study without announcement, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. The house was still asleep, but Calian had not moved from his position near the window since midnight. The grounds outside lay quiet under low mist, the security lights casting pale halos across trimmed hedges and stone paths. Nothing moved. Nothing ever did without his permission.

“You asked for everything,” Gerard said calmly. “I brought everything.”

Calian turned slowly. “Start.”

Gerard placed a slim folder on the desk, followed by a tablet. “Solyn Fairchild. Born and raised here. No disciplinary issues in school. Above-average intelligence. Consistent academic performance. Art focused from adolescence onward. No behavioral red flags.”

Calian remained silent.

“College was uneventful,” Gerard continued. “Close circle. No documented enemies. No romantic attachments that ended poorly. She keeps distance by nature.”

“Friends,” Calian said.

Gerard nodded. “Few, but loyal. One stands out. Eda Markovic. Childhood friend. Stayed in frequent contact even after Solyn moved out. No criminal history. No known enemies. No financial distress.”

Calian exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Quiet people don’t attract predators,” he said. “They’re selected.”

Gerard did not disagree.

Calian reached for Solyn’s phone on the desk. He unlocked it, navigating straight to the private thread. The images loaded instantly. He forced himself to look again, not as a man, but as a strategist. Angle. Lighting. Composition. Intention. The killer wanted to be seen. Wanted the reaction.

He deleted everything. Permanently.

Then he handed the phone to Gerard. “Return it. She doesn’t need the images living in her pocket.”

Gerard hesitated. “Fear makes people reckless,” he said carefully. “If you want to protect her, you must ease it.”

Calian looked at him sharply. “I neutralize threats. I don’t comfort victims.”

Gerard held his gaze. “Then learn. Or you’ll lose her.”

The words followed Calian long after Gerard left. That night, Calian did not sleep.

***

Morning came too quietly. Solyn sat at the small desk in her room, laptop open, spine rigid with forced composure. She had chosen a neutral background, disabled her camera, and logged in under a name that was not hers. Her hands shook only slightly as she adjusted the headset.

You can do this, she told herself.

Just an hour. Focus on the work.

The workshop interface loaded. Faces appeared in clean digital boxes. Strangers. Safe strangers. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Then the suggested profiles populated on the side panel. Her heart stopped.

Eda.

Solyn stared, frozen, her mind refusing to process what her eyes were seeing. She clicked the profile mechanically, like someone opening a door in a dream.

Eda smiled back at her from the screen. Same crooked grin. Same dimple near her cheek. Same jacket. The jacket.

Solyn’s stomach dropped violently. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled. More photos. Posted two days ago. Casual. Alive. Tagged location blinking at the bottom of the screen.

Her breath came too fast. The clothes were unmistakable. The same ones soaked in blood in the images sent by the killer.

“No,” Solyn whispered.

The laptop snapped shut.

She stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, panic roaring through her veins. This was wrong. This was impossible. She didn’t think as she ran.

Calian was mid-call when Solyn burst into his office.

“Out,” he said sharply, irritation flaring.

She slammed the laptop onto his desk. “Please.” The word cracked.

Calian stopped. He ended the call without a word.

“What happened,” he demanded.

Solyn pushed the laptop toward him. “Her name is Eda. She’s my best friend. I need you to find her. Now.”

He opened the screen. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly as he took in the image. The timestamp. The clothing. The metadata embedded beneath the surface.

Two days ago when Solyn was attacked inside the hospital.

Calian felt something cold slide into his chest.

“This is not coincidence,” he said quietly.

Her voice shook. “Is she dead.”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But we’re moving.”

He activated the secure line instantly. “I want a live trace on Eda Markovic. Last seventy-two hours. Digital footprint, CCTV, financial activity. Priority override.”

He disconnected and turned back to Solyn.

“She posted these willingly,” he said. “Which means she’s alive. Or she was when they were uploaded.”

Solyn swayed slightly. “He’s using her.”

“Yes,” Calian said. “And he wants you to know.”

His phone buzzed again. Calian answered, listening intently. His jaw tightened with every word.

When the call ended, he didn’t look away from Solyn.

“She vanished eight hours ago,” he said. “No outbound travel. No bank activity. Her phone went dark shortly after the upload.”

Solyn’s hands curled into fists. “He’s showing me her before he takes her away.”

“He’s escalating,” Calian replied. “And he’s daring me to respond.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You.”

That was the moment Calian understood. This was never about Solyn alone. It was about him.

Solyn cried quietly in her room, face buried in her hands. Calian felt bad looking at her through the door left ajar. he knocked softly to gain Solyn's atatnetion.

She was quiet and lost. Calian knew none of his words will bring warmth to her.

"I will find him and kill him..." He said in a low voice.

"I want you to kill him..."

"It's a promise."

She pulled back, eyes red. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, unable to speak.

That night, Calian stared at the security feeds long after the house slept.

He replayed Eda’s photos again and again. The angle. The framing. The intent.

This was a message.

And the man sending it knew exactly who he was speaking to.

Calian opened a secure file buried deep in his system. Old cases. Old enemies. People who had learned from him.

One name blinked back.

He closed the file slowly.

“You shouldn’t have involved her,” he murmured into the empty room.

Somewhere in the dark, a predator waited.

And Calian Winslow was done being patient.