Chapter Two – The Billionaire Stranger
712 Words
Thank God it's another day.
Morning came, but it didn’t bring peace.
I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at the thin curtains that barely kept the light out.
My body was in my room, but my mind was still on that road, staring into those golden eyes.
I haven’t told anyone. Not my father, not my neighbor, not the police. How could I? “I saw glowing eyes and a man stepped out of the forest”? They’d laugh, or worse — they’d look at me the way people look at mad women.
Still, I couldn’t shake the memory.
The way he moved. The way he looked at me. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t human.
The kettle whistled from the kitchen. My father’s voice followed. “Lilian, tea is ready.”
I forced myself to stand, smoothing my wrinkled shirt, and joined him. He was already at the table, glasses slipping down his nose, the morning paper spread open. He looked up and frowned.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said.
“I did,” I lied, reaching for the bread. My hands betrayed me, shaking slightly as I spread butter.
He studied me. Then shake. He was too tired to fight my lies. “I heard,” he said slowly, tapping the newspaper, “that a new man has bought the old Parkview Estate.”
I froze. “Parkview Estate?”
Her father nodded. “The big one up the hill. The one that’s been empty for years.” He adjusted his glasses. “They say he’s a billionaire. From the city. Some… investors.”
My stomach fell.
A billionaire. Arriving now. Buying the estate that modeled right at the edge of the forest.
She tried to sound casual. “What’s his name?”
My father blinked at the paper.
“Don't say.
Just say a withdrawn businessman.
Strange.
Usually people like that love attention. I love the cameras. But this one—no one even caught his picture.”
The knife slipped in my hand, butter spreading across the table. I murmured an apology and quickly cleaned it.
A withdraw billionaire. A man who appeared in my path last night, silent, glowing eyes burning into me.
My chest pulled. I'm dead. Could it be the same person?
My father kept reading, murmuring about how rich men wasted money on useless things while others starved. But I barely heard him.
The doorbell rang.
My father sighed. “Who so early?” He went to the door, but when he opened it, his breath seized.
A man stood there.
My spoon beat against the cup.
It was him.
Not in the shadows, not on the road, but in daylight.
The same tall frame, the same sharp features, though his eyes no longer glowed. His suit was flawless, black with a silver tie, and his shoes still shone as if light dropped out to them.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth, steady, carrying the kind of calm that made others scared. “I’m new in the neighborhood. I thought I should… introduce myself.”
My father blinked. “Oh. Of course. Please, come in—”
“No.” The man’s refusal was soft but final. “I won’t stay.” His stare flicked past my father, landing on me.
My throat closed.
“Just wanted to say,” he continued, his tone polite but heavy, “you should not let your daughter walk home at night. The roads aren’t safe.”
My father frowned. “What do you mean?”
The man held his stare for a second, then looked back at me. His eyes weren’t glowing, but they carried the same weight. The same silent warning.
Without answering, he turned, walked down the path, and disappeared into a sleek black car waiting at the corner.
The engine purred like a vampire, then carried him away.
My father murmured under his breath, shaking his head. “Strange man. Rich people are always strange.”
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Because it wasn’t just a warning.
It was a reminder.
He had seen me last night. He hadn’t forgotten.
And now, in broad daylight, he wanted me to know—he could reach me anywhere.
- Writer
