Derek

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THE DAY WAS SO UNASSUMING. The sun was shining, and the windows of the house were opened. The rays of sun drenching my furniture in its wondrous glow, illuminating the dark corners of my home. Birds chirped, filling the silence of the compound I called home. I looked out along the rolling hills that made up my backyard, grinning as I stretched.

One of the wonderful things about being a billionaire was that I got to set my own schedule. Bringing a company to the top meant my days were mine, and work hours were set when I was available. If I wanted to sleep in, one well-timed email blasted out to all my colleagues meant a late start for me. If I wanted to move a meeting, one well-placed email to my personal assistant, Emma, moved any meeting or phone call to any other time I could take it. With money, came success, and with success, came freedom.

Unfortunately, success also bred enemies, silent enemies who lurked in the shadows threatening to destroy all I’d created.

Even though I was stretching my body in my own home, it wasn’t because I had switched a meeting. It wasn’t because I had pushed a phone call or wanted a late start. It wasn’t even because I’d jet lag from a business trip.

It was because someone wanted me dead.

And that, I took very seriously.

The death threats started in the mailroom. In my company. The one I’d built. At first, I thought they were cute. “Step down or else” messages. The words were spelled in cutout letters from magazines, and I had a grand time trying to figure out what newspapers and magazines they had come from. Cosmopolitan. The New York Times. The Miami Herald. Golf Weekly. It was kind of fun for me, trying to pinpoint all the magazines this asshole might have pulled out of dumpsters to try and wreak havoc on my life. I figured a teenage kid was trying to get popular on social media.

Or something like that.

Then, the letters became personal.

Soon, the cutout letters were exchanged for typed letters. Then, the typing got exchanged for handwriting. They became intimate, documenting moments in my day that should have otherwise been private affairs, pictures of me walking on the street with women on my arm, wining and dining them before bringing them back to my home for a night of passion they would never forget.

I was being stalked by someone who wanted me killed.

Groaning, I raked my hands through my hair. Thinking about it all dimmed the beauty of the property I called my home. Even with all the security measures I had taken, I still didn’t feel safe. Even with the electronic gate and the security system that ran throughout the house and the well-placed cameras on my property, there was still something lurking. Something was in the shadows I could feel but not see. I didn’t enjoy not knowing all the pieces in play. Having all the information at my disposal helped me to be the best businessman I could be.

And right now, I was working with only half the intel.

I shuffled to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. Today was going to be a day of working from home. I had a to do a video conference call with the stockholders of the company, and there were also two very important phone calls I’d already rescheduled twice. Work didn’t stop because I wasn’t in the office building. I took the time to shave my face and wash myself down in the shower. I went through the ritual of putting on my suit as if I was going to work. Feeling my best meant looking my best, even if I wasn’t leaving the confines of my property today.

A knock at my door halted me in my tracks.

I raced down the stairs, my heels clicking on the marble staircase as I made my way to the front door. I stood behind it, listening for anyone who could be standing behind it and waiting for me to open. I peeked through the windows and saw no one standing there, but I did see something lying on my welcome mat.

A pearly white envelope.

Feeling my heart leap in my chest, I ripped open my door. I picked the letter up and looked around, trying to spot anyone running away from my property. The mail wasn’t supposed to run for another hour, and the mailman always called at the gate for me to let him in. There was no way in hell he would’ve come early, and there was no way for him to get through that gate without my letting him in first.

Who the fuck had left this letter?

I stepped back into the house and closed the door. With anxious hands and a knowing mind, I ripped the letter open and found the handwriting I’d become so familiar with. I clenched my jaw, wondering how the hell the letter had gotten past the gate.

My house was locked down for a reason. There was no way someone had gotten past my front gates and made it up my driveway.

And yet, they had.

Mr. Steele,

By now, I believe we have come to know one another very well. You know me as the eye in the sky, and I know you as the pompous Hollywood billionaire. You have sins in your past. Sins that should be reckoned with. There are many more people who deserve that money other than yourself. People you have ruined and trampled on to get where you are currently standing. So now that I have done my research and we have come to the dinner table, I am ready to make you an offer.

Step down from your company and donate your wealth to the charities listed on the back of this letter. If you do, you will not be killed. But if you don’t—should you choose to call my bluff—then I will finally be able to see whether or not your brain matter matches the drapes you so delicately hung in your home.

Forever yours,

Eye

Who the fuck was this psychopath? If he thought he was going to scare me into giving away the company I built with my own two fucking hands instead of going to college, he was sorely mistaken. If he thought, for one second, he could breach the security of my home, get into my house, and hold a gun to my head, he had another thing coming. I wasn’t sure how anyone dropped this letter at my doorstep, but I knew one thing was for certain.

If my security had been breached, someone would have come to get me.

I crumpled the letter up and stuck it in my pocket. I had work that needed to get done today, and I needed to get started. I made my way back up to my office and opened my door, turning on the light so my eyes could adjust. Fluorescent lighting was so different from natural light, and it always took some time for my eyes to adjust.

But then, the front door slammed open.

“Mr. Steele! Mr. Steele!”

It was my security guard, and I groaned as I rolled my eyes.

Shit. Someone had penetrated the security of my compound.

“Mr. Steele, you have to come with us. Your bags and spare electronics are already in the limo.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Where was the breach?”

“On the south side of the compound.”

“The one that backs up to the highway? But that’s the most heavily-guarded area. How the hell did they get past it to get in here in the first place?” I asked.

“Don’t know, and don’t care. Right now, we gotta get you out of here. Whoever this is, they just made a statement.”

“And what statement is that?”.

“That they have the resources to get to you, sir.”

A chill ran up my back as I headed out with my security guard. We raced down the stairs, and he practically threw me into the limo. I was shaking with anger as my house receded in the rearview mirror. I had built my home piece by piece, just like my damn company. This asshole was proving to me that he could make me run from my own home. From my own creation.

Just like he was trying to run me out of my own company.

“Griggs? What the fuck happened?” I glared ahead of me.

The stoic man sitting at the other end of the limo finally turned his head toward me. There was a laptop on his lap as his chubby fingers flew across the keyboard. I waited for him to answer me, growing more agitated by the second as we approached the security gate. I groaned as we passed through it, leaving the only place I had ever truly called home as we all fled for my safety.

What a fucking way to wake up.

“Not gonna lie, sir. This is bad,” Griggs said.

“Why?” I barked. “What the fuck happened? The south side of the compound is the part that’s heavily guarded because of the damn highway.”

“They didn’t come through the south side,” Griggs said.

“But Hulk here said the south side was triggered,” I said as I tapped my security guard’s chest.

“It was triggered, but that wasn’t the entry point. Take a look at this.”

Griggs turned the laptop around, and I watched the screen. There was a man coming out from a hole underneath the damn gate. Like some kind of dog that had carved his way into the neighbor’s yard. The cameras followed him all the way to my damn doorstep where he laid the note down and ran, scaling the side of the house and ducking into a blind spot the cameras couldn’t reach.

Then, I watched as he ran back across the property, slammed himself into the hole he’d dug, and closed it back up with the original dirt.

“What the fuck?” I said.

“The south side was triggered one minute and forty-two seconds after that man filled the hole. It wasn’t triggered, Mr. Steele. They ran a program that triggered it for them. After that guy escaped.”

“What the hell is going on? I hired you to protect this place.”

“Sir, if I may be bold,” the security guard asked.

“I don’t give a damn what you are right now. All I want is answers!”

“Well, sir. It’s not an answer.” He paused and cleared his throat. But it is a suggestion.”

“Listen to the man,” Griggs said. “He’s good.”

“Apparently, not good enough,” I glared, arms crossed. I was pissed.

“It wasn’t his job to catch this guy. It was mine. You wanna be mad at someone? Be mad at me. His job was to get you into this limo, and that’s what he did. Now, I suggest you listen to him since your life is literally hanging in the balance,” Griggs said.

I turned to the security guard and raised my eyebrows.

“I suggest some personal supplemental protection. I know a security firm that contracts personal security guards out to high-risk and high-value targets. At the moment, you’re both. I think you should hire them for one-on-one protection until we can get this all sorted out. You can put all the shit on your lawn you want, but nothing’s gonna help you if that asshole gets inside your home.”

I nodded as I sighed, leaning into the seat of my limo. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. ...?”

“Deacon. Call me Deacon, sir.”

“Mr. Deacon. I appreciate the suggestion. And while I think it is a bit of an overkill, some might argue that electronic gates infused with electric charges are a bit overkill as well,” I said.

“Some would say that, sir. Yes.”

“Do you happen to have their number on you?” I watched Deacon pull a card from his pocket before he handed it over to me.

“Tell them Deac referred you. They’ll give you their best,” he said.

“I thought you said I was right up their alley? Would they not give me their best to begin with?”

“They would. But there’s a particular contractor they employ who’s miles above the rest. Tell them Deac sent you, and they’ll be sure to put them on your detail. Immediately.”

“Then, I’ll tell them just that,” I said. “Thank you for your suggestion.”

“Anything to help, sir. Anything to help.”