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“We need to set you up, make sure your profile is not too fancy or intimidating,” she said as she typed the keys. I didn’t know what she meant, but I trusted her. “There you go, your account is up and running, let’s wait, see who notices you first. Oh, I uploaded that photo from last year’s homecoming ball as your display photo. Don’t you think you looked great in that black dress?” she said as she turned the screen towards me so I could see my profile.
I nodded, satisfied.
“Don’t just stand there. These things will not pack themselves,” she teased me as she put her laptop in sleep mode.
I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would notice me. Was that black dress from last year’s homecoming a good choice? Did I really look good in it?
My thoughts were interrupted by chirping sounds from Carrie’s laptop. My life was about to change forever.
Chapter Two - Elijah
I stood on the balcony with a lit cigar pressed between my index and middle finger, looking out over the ocean as the sunset covered everything in a gentle light. Beside me was my dog, Bolt, my loyal friend, bodyguard, and confidant. We had been together for almost four years now; we had formed a formidable bond. He was the only true friend I had in the whole world.
We silently watched the sun crawl over the clear blue waters, absorbing all in its beauty as the rays cut through the clouds. I loved watching the sunset. Besides surfing, watching the sunrise and set was probably the only thing that drew me back to the world of reality. I ran a crypto investment firm in the city that translated to many meetings and busy schedules. So, I enjoyed every spare minute I could afford while standing on the balcony of my mansion, taking in the beautiful scenery.
That evening as the sun descended, it lit upon a small convoy heading for my property. It was difficult to make out what the convoy was made of in the dim light, but as the cars drew closer, I counted one white Ferrari sandwiched between four black SUVs. The group came to a halt when it got to the edge of my property, waiting for the gate to be opened so it could make its way in. A man in a black suit exited from one of the SUVs, headed for the gate, and pressed a buzzer to let me know they wanted access. Whoever these people were, I could not tell. The mere fact that I wasn’t expecting any guests led my mind in a spiral of thoughts.
“Mr. Fillmore?” called out Jacob, my housekeeper.
“Let them in,” I answered in anticipation.
Bolt was growling as was his habit every time he sensed strangers in our midst. He’d grown so protective of me over the years that he’d not allow anyone near five feet of me.
“Easy now, Bolt, easy,” I petted him on his head, under his chin.
The gate opened wide, the cars rushed in just like in Hollywood movies when cops bust a drug deal, surprising the culprits. I made my way down the main hall towards the main entrance to welcome my guests. Bolt was within close distance in case our guests were unwelcomed. His ears were raised sky-high, his mouth wide open, only paying attention to the instructions I’d utter, just in case.
Within minutes of the SUVs storming inside my property, about eight men in black suits quickly disembarked from the vehicles then gathered around the Ferrari. One of the men opened the Ferrari’s passenger door, offered his hand to whoever was inside.
All this time, Bolt was growling, barking, swinging his tail in anticipation of something. Apparently, he was more curious than I was. I stood at the main entrance with Bolt seated beside me, hoping the leash tightly gripped in my hand would break so he could have a go at the unwelcomed guests.
Out of the Ferrari stepped a beautiful redheaded woman in black stiletto heels, donning a white Gucci jumpsuit. She had a white Hermes Birkin bag to match her already expensive outfit. I immediately recognized her. She was Alessandro Maximo’s daughter, Emilia Maximo.
Alessandro and I crossed paths about seven years ago when he offered to buy me out of my crypto investment firm, offering me a lucrative deal. But I ended up declining his offer. Since then, there has existed some bad blood between us. Seeing his daughter in my front yard took me by surprise.
“Mr. Fillmore,” Emilia finally called out my name in a deep Italian accent, extending her hand in greeting.
“Emilia,” I responded candidly, offered my hand in greeting as well.
I called out to Jacob, handing over Bolt to his care as I led Emilia into the mansion. We walked past the foyer into the interior of the mansion in silence. I couldn’t help but wonder what Alessandro’s daughter was doing in my house.
