CEO PUPPET

The Man Behind the Strings

Chapter 4

Elara didn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the same thing. A pair of dark eyes watching her from somewhere beyond the shadows.

Sometimes they belonged to the man from her dreams. Sometimes she couldn't see his face at all.

But she always heard his voice.

Puppet.

By six-thirty, she had convinced herself that exhaustion was responsible for everything. The dreams. The message. Her mother's strange warning.

Fear had a way of turning ordinary things into monsters.

She dressed Leo for school, packed his lunch, helped him find his missing shoe, and listened to him complain about having to eat vegetables.

Normal things. Safe things.

She needed normal.

"Mommy?"

Elara looked up from the kitchen counter.

Leo was standing in the doorway with his backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Why are you scared?"

Her hand froze around the coffee mug.

"I'm not scared."

"You are."

He frowned at her with the blunt certainty only a six-year-old could possess.

"You keep looking at the window."

Elara glanced toward it.

The curtains were closed.

"I didn't sleep very well."

Leo nodded as though that explained everything.

"Did you have the bad dream again?"

Her stomach tightened.

"How do you know about that?"

"You talk when you're sleeping."

She forced a smile.

"Apparently I do."

"What do you say?"

Elara's smile disappeared.

"What do I say?"

Leo shrugged.

"Something about a puppet."

The mug slipped from her fingers.

It hit the counter instead of the floor, coffee splashing across the tiles.

For several seconds, she couldn't breathe.

"Leo."

"Yeah?"

"Who told you that word?"

"No one."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"You said it."

A cold sensation traveled down her spine.

She crouched in front of him.

"Did you hear anything else?"

Leo thought about it.

Then he smiled.

"There was a man."

Elara's heart stopped.

"What man?"

"The man in your room."

She grabbed his shoulders.

"What man?"

Leo's smile faded.

"The one who told you to go back to sleep."

Elara's blood turned cold.

She hadn't told Leo about the dreams.

She hadn't told anyone.

"Leo, when did you see him?"

"Last night."

Her heart began pounding.

"Where?"

"In your room."

"Was he inside?"

Leo shook his head.

"By the door."

Elara stood so quickly that the chair scraped across the floor. She checked every lock front door, back door, windows.

She looked beneath the beds, inside the closets.

Behind the shower curtain.

Nothing.

No one.

But when she returned to her bedroom, she noticed something she hadn't seen before.

A small black envelope sat on her pillow.

Her hands went numb.

She hadn't put it there.

Slowly, she approached it.

There was no name on the front.

Only one word.

PUPPET.

Elara stared at it for several seconds before opening it.

Inside was a photograph.

Her.

Standing outside the nursing home.

Yesterday.

Someone had taken it from across the street.

Her fingers trembled.

There was another photograph beneath it.

Leo walking out of school three days earlier.

And another.

Her mother sitting beside the window.

And another.

Elara asleep in her bedroom.

Her breath caught.

That photograph had been taken from inside the apartment.

On the back of the final photograph, someone had written:

You keep looking for me in the wrong places.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

One message.

Look behind you.

Elara spun around.

Nothing.

Her bedroom was empty.

Then another message appeared.

Not there.

A third.

In the mirror.

She slowly looked toward the wardrobe mirror.

At first, she saw only herself.

Pale face.

Wide eyes.

Shaking hands.

Then she noticed something reflected in the glass.

A dark figure stood at the end of the hallway.

Elara turned.

Nothing.

She looked back.

The reflection was gone.

Her phone buzzed again.

Better.

Then:

Now you understand.

Elara's blood ran cold.

Someone wasn't simply watching her.

Someone was playing her.

And whoever it was knew exactly how to make her afraid.

Chapter 5

By noon, Elara had convinced herself not to call the police.

She had no proof.

No fingerprints.

No explanation for how the photographs had appeared.

And the last thing she wanted was to sound like a woman losing her mind.

Instead, she went to work.

She spent six hours pretending everything was normal.

At the nursing home, she changed beds, delivered meals, and helped residents settle into their afternoon routines.

But every time the elevator doors opened, she looked up.

Every unfamiliar face made her heart jump.

And every man wearing dark clothes seemed to be watching her.

By five, she was exhausted.

She stepped outside into the cold evening air and stopped.

A black car was parked across the street.

It had been there that morning.

She was sure of it.

Her pulse quickened.

The driver's window lowered.

Elara froze.

A man stepped out.

Tall.

Immaculately dressed.

Dark hair.

Broad shoulders.

A face that was handsome in a way that felt almost dangerous.

He didn't approach her immediately.

He simply looked at her.

As if he'd been waiting.

As if he'd known exactly when she would walk outside.

Elara's instincts screamed at her to run.

Instead, she stood still.

The man crossed the street.

"Ms. Vance."

His voice.

Her stomach dropped.

It was the voice from her dreams.

Not exactly.

But close enough.

Deep.

Controlled.

Unhurried.

"You know me?" she asked.

His mouth curved slightly.

"I know of you."

"Who are you?"

"Damian Blackwood."

The name meant nothing.

And yet something inside her reacted to it.

A strange flicker of recognition.

"Have we met?"

"No."

He stepped closer.

Elara instinctively moved back.

He noticed.

His eyes dropped briefly to the distance between them before returning to her face.

"You're afraid of me."

"I'm afraid of people who approach strangers outside their workplace."

"Fair."

There was something almost amused in his expression.

Elara hated that.

She hated how calm he was.

How completely in control.

"You've been following me."

"No."

"Liar."

His eyebrow lifted.

"That's an interesting accusation."

"I have photographs."

"I know."

Her breath caught.

"You sent them."

"I didn't say that."

"But you know about them."

"I know many things about you, Elara."

Hearing her first name from his lips made her skin prickle.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Say my name like you know me."

For the first time, his expression changed.

Something darker entered his eyes.

"Perhaps I do know you."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you work two jobs."

Elara's face tightened.

"I know your son hates carrots."

Her blood turned cold.

"I know your mother has lucid moments that frighten you because you don't understand them."

She took another step backward.

"Stop."

"I know you haven't slept properly in months."

"Stop."

"And I know you dream about someone you don't remember meeting."

Silence.

The world seemed to disappear around them.

Elara stared at him.

"Who are you?"

Damian stepped closer.

He didn't touch her.

He didn't need to.

His presence alone seemed to fill the space between them.

"The question isn't who I am."

"Then what is it?"

"Why do you remember me?"

Her heart hammered.

"I've never seen you before."

"You've seen my eyes."

Her breath caught.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping.

"Every night."

Elara's body reacted before her mind could stop it.

A shiver.

A sharp intake of breath.

Damian noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

His gaze lingered on her face.

Not her body.

Her face.

As if he were studying every reaction.

"You're lying," she whispered.

"About what?"

"About the dreams."

"No."

"You can't be the man in them."

"Why?"

"Because you're real."

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"Exactly."

He stepped away.

Elara suddenly felt cold without his proximity.

"Why me?"

His expression became unreadable.

"Because someone has been trying to find you."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you here?"

"To warn you."

"About what?"

Damian looked toward the street.

"Mark."

Elara stopped breathing.

The name struck her like a physical blow.

"No."

Damian looked back at her.

"He's been asking questions."

Her hands began to shake.

"That's impossible."

"You've spent years believing he's gone."

"He is."

"Are you certain?"

Elara couldn't answer.

Because, for the first time in six years, a terrible possibility entered her mind.

Maybe she hadn't escaped Mark.

Maybe she'd only escaped the part of him she could see.

Damian's voice softened.

"Go home."

"What?"

"Take your son. Take your mother. Lock the doors."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure you get there safely."

"I don't need you."

"No."

His eyes held hers.

"You need someone."

Before she could respond, he walked away.

Elara watched him cross the street and disappear into the black car.

The engine started.

The car drove away.

She remained standing on the pavement.

Then her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She opened the message.

You shouldn't have spoken to him.

Her stomach dropped.

Another message appeared.

He's not the one you should be afraid of.

Then a final message.

He's the one you should be afraid of losing.

Chapter 6

Elara arrived home twenty minutes later.

The apartment looked exactly as she'd left it.

Except for one thing.

The front door was unlocked.

She stood outside, staring at it.

She distinctly remembered locking it.

Twice.

Her first instinct was to call the police.

Her second was Leo.

She pushed the door open slowly.

"Leo?"

No answer.

"Mom?"

Silence.

She stepped inside.

The apartment was dark.

Too dark.

She reached for the light switch.

Nothing.

The electricity had been cut.

Her heart began pounding.

"Leo?"

A sound came from the hallway.

A soft creak.

Then another.

Elara reached for her phone.

The screen lit up.

One new message.

Come upstairs.

She stopped.

Her apartment had only one floor.

There was nowhere upstairs.

Another message.

You know where.

She looked toward her mother's bedroom.

The door was closed.

Her blood ran cold.

She moved toward it.

"Mom?"

No answer.

She opened the door.

Empty.

The bed was made.

The window was open.

Her mother's medication was scattered across the floor.

Elara's phone slipped from her hand.

"No."

She rushed into the living room.

"Leo!"

Still nothing.

Then she heard it.

A child's laughter.

From her bedroom.

Elara ran.

The door was open.

Leo stood beside the bed.

Alive.

Unharmed.

Holding something in his hand.

"Mommy!"

Elara grabbed him and pulled him against her.

"Oh God."

He laughed.

"Why are you crying?"

She held him tighter.

"Where were you?"

"I was here."

"Where's Grandma?"

Leo pointed toward the window.

"She went with the nice man."

Every muscle in Elara's body went rigid.

"What nice man?"

"The one from your dreams."

Her blood turned to ice.

"What did he look like?"

Leo shrugged.

"Like the man who came to see you."

Damian.

Elara's heart pounded.

"Did he take Grandma?"

Leo shook his head.

"No. Grandma said she had to go."

"Go where?"

He pointed toward the bed.

Elara looked down.

There was another black envelope.

Her name was written across it.

She opened it with shaking fingers.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Three words.

COME FIND ME.

Beneath them was an address.

Elara recognized it immediately.

Her mother's old house.

The house where she had grown up.

The house she hadn't visited since she was twenty-three.

The house she had sworn never to enter again.

Her phone buzzed.

This time, the message wasn't from an unknown number.

It was from Damian.

Don't go there alone.

Elara stared at the screen.

Then another message arrived.

And whatever you do, don't trust the man who tells you he owns you.

She looked at the address again.

Then at Leo.

Something had changed.

This wasn't a dream anymore.

Someone had entered her life and started pulling invisible strings.

And somewhere in the darkness, someone was waiting for her to pull back.

Elara picked up her son.

She looked toward the window.

For the briefest second, she thought she saw a man standing across the street.

Watching.

Waiting.

Then the figure disappeared.