Tempted By The Blind Beauty

Chapter2

THE SUSPECT

They locked me in a room that smelled like vanilla and leather.

I stood in the middle of it for what felt like hours, afraid to move. My hands were shaking. My mind kept replaying his voice... that cold, sharp edge when he said Rebecca's name.

Who was Rebecca? And why did he think I had something to do with her?

I didn't even know what an ID card looked like. I'd never seen one. Never seen anything.

"Please..." I whispered to the empty room. "Please let this be a mistake..."

The door opened suddenly. I jumped.

"Come with me." It was one of the guards from before. His hand gripped my elbow, not rough but firm. Like I was a prisoner.

"Where are we going?"

"Boss wants to talk to you."

My stomach dropped. "I already told him everything..."

"He doesn't believe you."

They led me through a maze of hallways. Everything echoed. The floors were hard... marble, maybe. The kind of place where even whispers carried.

We stopped. A door opened.

"Sit."

I felt for the chair and lowered myself into it. My hands gripped the armrests.

"Leave us." His voice filled the room. That same deep, commanding tone. But there was something else now. Something darker.

The door closed. We were alone again.

"I'll ask you one more time, Lana. Where did you get the ID card?"

"I told you... I found it..."

"Found it where? When? Be specific."

I tried to remember. Everything blurred together when you lived on the streets. Days bled into each other. But I forced myself to think back.

"It was... maybe a week ago? I was near the river. There's a bench there where I usually rest. Someone had left a coat on the ground. It was cold that night, so I took it. I didn't even check the pockets until later..."

"And the card was inside."

"Yes. I felt it when I was trying to find somewhere to sleep. It was stiff... plastic or something. I didn't know what it was at first."

"But you kept it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I hesitated. It sounded stupid now. Crazy, even. "It... it smelled nice."

Silence.

"It smelled nice," he repeated slowly.

"I know how that sounds..." My face burned. "But when you can't see, you remember things differently. Smells. Textures. That card... it had perfume on it. Something floral. Sweet. It reminded me of..." I stopped.

"Of what?"

"Of being safe. A long time ago. Before everything went wrong."

More silence. I heard him shift. The mechanical whir again.

"What perfume was it?" His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. It threw me off.

"I don't know the name. I never knew perfume names. But it smelled like... like roses and something else. Something warm."

"Jasmine."

"Maybe. I don't..."

"It was jasmine." He wasn't asking. He was telling me. "Roses and jasmine. From a French brand. Very expensive. Very rare."

My throat went dry. "How do you know that?"

"Because my sister wore it. Every single day."

The word "wore" hit me like a punch. Past tense.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered.

"Sorry for what?"

"For your sister. She... she's gone, isn't she?"

He didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was hollow. "Yes. She's gone."

"I didn't know her. I swear I didn't. I never met anyone named Rebecca..."

"How do you know her name was Rebecca?"

My blood ran cold. "You... you said it. Earlier. When the guard showed you the card..."

"Did I?"

"Yes. You did. I heard you."

Another pause. Then, "You're very observant for someone who can't see."

"I have to be."

"I suppose you do." He sounded tired suddenly. Drained. "My men are running background checks on you. If you're lying... if you had anything to do with what happened to her..."

"I didn't. I promise."

"Promises mean nothing to me."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"I've told you the truth!"

"Then you'll stay here until I'm satisfied."

"Stay here? You can't just keep me..."

"I can do whatever I want, Lana. This is my house. My rules. You'll stay in the east wing. You'll have food. A bed. Everything you need. But you don't leave until I say so."

Panic clawed at my chest. "That's kidnapping..."

"Call it protective custody."

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Then you have nothing to worry about." His tone said the conversation was over. "Someone will bring you dinner. Don't try to leave. The gates are locked and guarded."

"Wait..."

But he was already moving away. The whir of his chair faded. The door opened and closed.

I sat there, trembling, trying not to cry.

...

They brought me soup and bread an hour later.

The guard who delivered it didn't speak. Just set the tray down and left.

I ate slowly, my mind racing. What was I going to do? I couldn't stay here. But I also couldn't leave. And even if I could... where would I go?

The room they'd given me was too warm. Too soft. The bed felt like a cloud when I finally lay down on it. I hadn't slept on a real bed in over a year.

It should have felt like heaven.

Instead, it felt like a cage.

...

I woke to voices outside my door.

"She hasn't tried to leave?" That was him. Derrick.

"No, sir. She's been quiet all evening."

"And the background check?"

"Still running. Should have results by morning."

"Good. Keep someone posted outside her room. I don't want her wandering."

"Yes, sir."

Footsteps retreated. But I could still hear him... the faint mechanical sound. He was still there. Right outside my door.

Then I heard something unexpected.

Humming.

Soft. Almost unconscious. The melody I'd sung earlier.

He was humming my song.

My heart did something strange. Flipped, maybe. I pressed my hand against my chest.

Who was this man? One moment he was cold, threatening, terrifying. The next he was... what? Lonely? Broken?

I heard him move away finally. The humming faded.

I lay back down, staring at nothing like I always did.

...

The next morning, someone brought me breakfast.

"Mr. Cole wants to see you," the woman said. She sounded older. Kinder than the guards. "He's asked that you sing for him again."

"And if I don't?"

She paused. "I don't think that's wise, dear."

So I went.

They led me to a different room this time. Bigger. I could tell by the way sound moved through it. High ceilings. Open space.

"Sit." His voice came from across the room.

I found the chair and sat.

"Sing."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

I didn't argue. I sang the same hymn from yesterday. Then another one. Then a folk song I'd learned from a woman at a shelter.

When I finished, the silence stretched.

"You sing like someone who's lost everything," he said quietly.

"Maybe because I have."

"Tell me about it."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know."

"You don't even trust me..."

"Trust and curiosity aren't the same thing, Lana."

I bit my lip. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you lose your sight?"

The question knocked the air from my lungs. No one ever asked me that. Not directly.

"I... I don't remember much. I was young. There was an accident. A fire, I think. When I woke up in the hospital, everything was dark. It never came back."

"Your family?"

"Gone. All of them."

"I'm sorry."

The words surprised me. They sounded genuine.

"Why do you care?" I asked.

"I don't know."

Honesty. I hadn't expected that.

Before I could respond, his phone rang. Sharp. Loud.

"Cole." He answered immediately. Then, after a pause, "What did you find?"

Silence. Long. Heavy.

"Are you certain?" His voice changed. Went cold again.

More silence.

"Send me everything. Now." He hung up.

I heard him move closer. The whir of the chair stopped right in front of me.

"Lana." His voice was tight. Controlled. "We need to talk. Right now."

My hands gripped the armrests.

"About what?"

"About who you really are.”