When the Wealthy Widower Strikes Back

Nightmare

The sight of his front door swinging open sent a cold shiver down Ben’s spine. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, then turned sharply to check the gate. The wooden planks that should have been shut tight were ajar, leaning awkwardly as if someone had brushed past them.

It didn’t make sense. Ben was certain he had locked everything before leaving. No matter how rushed he had been, he never repeated mistakes—especially not the kind of mistake that had indirectly cost his daughter her life. His hands trembled at the memory of that night, the night that haunted him endlessly, but he forced himself to steady his breathing before stepping inside.

“Whoever you are, come out! Don’t skulk around like a rat!” His voice thundered through the small house, bouncing off the peeling white walls. The faded paint, flaking in strips, seemed to amplify the tension. Ben moved cautiously, his eyes wide, scanning every corner with the sharpness of a predator.

The house was sparse, almost barren. A sticky plastic mat lay near the entrance, stained with old coffee. In one corner sat a small stove and a rickety table. Beyond that, only two cramped rooms remained—a narrow bedroom and a bathroom.

There was nowhere to hide. Even his wardrobe had no doors. Within seconds, Ben had checked every possible nook.

No one.

He exhaled heavily, muttering to himself. “Did I really forget to lock it?” Exhaustion pressed down on him, convincing him that perhaps it was his own carelessness. He no longer had the energy to suspect intruders.

And truthfully, he didn’t care. If someone had broken in, let them do what they wanted. If he caught them, he would welcome the chance to unleash the anger that had been festering inside him.

But the hours dragged on, and no such opportunity came. Instead, Ben lay sprawled on the sticky mat,. Silence wrapped around him, and his mind began replaying the worst memories of the past year.

Endless arguments. Trips back and forth to court. Stacks of papers to read and sign. Each recollection pulled him deeper into the hollow emptiness that had consumed his life. Every time he returned to this house, the silence was unbearable.

His mother-in-law’s words echoed in his head: “Thalia is happy with Garry. You should find your own happiness, away from us.”

She wasn’t wrong. Ben had long accepted that his marriage was shattered beyond repair. Thalia had built a new life with Garry—handsome, educated, wealthy. Everything Ben was not. It had taken him decades just to own a modest house. The distance between him and Thalia was immeasurable now.

as the fragile thread connecting them.

Ben had been grateful that Thalia allowed him to spend time with their daughter at the end of each month. Alisya’s cheerful spirit had colored his days, her kindness softening his hardened heart. Just hours before that fateful night, she had filled his home with laughter.

He remembered her animated storytelling, her eyes sparkling as she recounted school antics.

“Dad, my classmates are hilarious! They got caught filming a silly dance video in front of the new teacher. Instead of running, they asked him to judge whose hip movements were smoother!”

Ben hadn’t cared about her classmates, but her joy was contagious. He had laughed with her, forgetting his troubles for a moment.

“Oh, and in journalism club, we had a guest speaker—a young reporter. He was so kind, easy to talk to. He even gave me tips for you, Dad, since you’re forgetful!”

“Tips?” Ben had asked, touched that Alisya thought of him even when she was away.

“Yes! He said whenever you’re doing chores…”

Her words blurred. At some point, Ben had drifted into sleep. The memory cut off, swallowed by dreams.

Darkness. He was stumbling through the night, feet dragging, body heavy. Each step was agony, sharp gravel biting into his bare soles. He reached for a door handle, but it seemed impossibly far.

Panic surged. The same panic from that night, reborn in his dream.

Headlights blazed in the distance, searing his vision. A car sped toward them, its roar deafening. Ben’s heart clenched as he saw Alisya walking slowly along the roadside, oblivious. She had no chance to escape.

“Alisya!” He screamed her name, sprinting forward. But the harder he ran, the farther she drifted away. Her figure shrank, swallowed by the distance.

“Alisya! Stop walking away! Come back to me!” His voice tore through the night, so loud his ears rang. But she didn’t hear. Her head remained bowed, her pace steady.

Ben’s skin prickled, his body stiffening with dread. He watched helplessly as the inevitable unfolded. The car struck her, flinging her small frame into the air.

“No!”

He jolted awake, gasping, sweat streaming down his temples. His outstretched hand trembled violently. He pulled it back, pressing it against his face, rubbing hard as if he could erase the nightmare.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself, voice hoarse. “If these nightmares are punishment, then I’ll accept them. Maybe one day, Alisya will forgive me.”

But speaking the hope aloud only deepened his unease. He sat in silence, forcing his breath to steady.

When he finally opened his eyes, the glow of his phone lit the room. Notifications filled the screen before fading back into darkness.

He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to do anything. But responsibility tugged at him. Work still needed his attention. Reluctantly, he reached for the device.

As expected, most messages were from clients. They asked about his absence that morning. He had delegated tasks to his small team, but larger projects still required his involvement. Several restaurant owners had tried calling, but eventually gave up when he didn’t answer.

Ben sighed. He promised himself he would return to work tomorrow. He scrolled through his inbox, ready to set the phone aside—until one message stopped him cold.

His eyes widened at the sender’s name.

Thalia.

He read the words once. Twice. Over and over until his head throbbed and his eyes burned.

“I’m sorry for my behavior earlier. If you have time, let’s meet again. Just the two of us. Choose the time and place. Garry has given his permission.”

Ben’s mind spun. The message was surreal, almost impossible. He lay back down, turning toward the small window beside the door, trying to calm himself.

But his thoughts refused to settle. He could have sworn he saw movement outside, a shadow peering in. His head ached, convincing him it was only imagination. He closed his eyes again.

And then, faintly, he heard it.

A whisper. A woman’s voice, soft and chilling.

“Found you.”