In his study, Alexander sat at the window taking a puff from the cigar before blowing it out as the smoke mingled with the night air before disappearing out of sight.
He looked at the paper that lay on his desk. Without much effort he had pieced the puzzled paper to its original form. The content in it made him laugh. He already had a few doubts about who could have done such a thing, to go to such lengths to keep her away from him by threatening her and inflicting pain on her.
It had been quite long since he last had blood on his hands. This was an opportune moment, he thought, as his bloodthirsty instincts surfaced.
Hearing the knock on the door, Alexander said, "Come in Martin."
The old man opened the door, bowing his head.
"Can you please find whose handwriting this belongs to in the mansion," he said looking at the paper that was on the table.
"Yes Lord Alexander," the man said picking up the paper.
"And get Caviar in here," he ordered before the butler left the room.
