Lena sat quietly in the passenger seat, the soft hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence. Antony sat beside her, staring into the darkness beyond the windshield, his features barely lit by the glow of the dashboard. They'd been parked for nearly an hour now, waiting for something—or someone—and the night air had grown colder.
Lena shifted slightly, feeling the closeness between them in the cramped car. Her mind buzzed with questions, curiosity gnawing at her. Finally, she broke the silence.
"Why did you fake your own death?" she asked, trying to sound casual but feeling anything but.
Antony blinked, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Fake my death? I didn't fake anything. I really died out there."
Lena gave him a skeptical look. "Sure, and then you just happened to come back by performing some Halloween ritual?"
He chuckled, his voice low and amused. "No ritual. Just a simple pact with the devil... or maybe a trade with God. All it took was the sacrifice of a young maiden," he teased, his gaze flicking toward her with a playful glint.
She narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to laugh or be creeped out. "You're joking, right?"
Antony shrugged, the smile fading. "Sometimes, the truth is better left unknown. Ignorance is bliss, as they say."
Lena let the silence linger, her thoughts swirling. What's the real story? She knew better than to push him for answers, but his words hung in the air like a riddle she couldn't solve. He was an enigma, and no matter how much time they spent together, she felt like she barely scratched the surface.
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, watching the minutes tick by. "So... what are we doing now? We've been waiting for almost an hour."
Antony didn't seem bothered. He turned to her with a calm, businesslike expression. "Like I explained, we're meeting someone. Think of this as... detective work. You're my secretary tonight. Call me Mr. Anderson."
Lena smirked. "Mr. Anderson? Seriously?"
"Professionalism is key, Miss Carter," he said with a straight face. "Keep this suitcase close. When I give the signal, open it for the client. Do you remember the code?"
"9431," she recited, though her mind was still spinning from the surreal nature of the situation.
Antony nodded. "Good. Just follow my lead."
Lena exhaled, her heart racing. Secretary for a resurrected man playing detective... not exactly on my career plan. She glanced at him, trying to read his calm demeanor. Despite everything, he had this way of making the absurd feel... manageable. And yet, there was a depth she couldn't reach. The more time she spent around him, the more she realized just how little she knew.
Before she could dwell on it, Antony straightened. "They're here."
Lena followed his gaze, spotting a figure emerging from the shadows. The man looked nervous, his steps slow as he approached the car. Antony shot her a quick glance. "Remember—Mr. Anderson."
She nodded, clutching the suitcase in her lap, trying to steady her breath.
The man knocked on the window, and Antony rolled it down smoothly. "Mr. Anderson?" the man asked, his voice wavering.
Antony's demeanor shifted in an instant. "Yes, that's me," he said, stepping out with a briefcase in hand. "Thank you for meeting me."
Lena watched in awe as Antony transformed, slipping into his role with ease. His handshake was firm, his voice steady and professional. "Shall we discuss your... situation?" he asked, gesturing toward the man's house.
The man hesitated, glancing nervously at Lena. Antony caught the look and smiled, his tone reassuring. "My secretary, Miss Carter. She's here to assist with tonight's proceedings. You have nothing to worry about."
Lena's grip on the suitcase tightened as they followed the man toward the house. Despite Antony's calm presence, she couldn't shake the tension hanging in the air. The man's nervous energy made it impossible to relax. What exactly are we walking into?
As they reached the front steps, Antony leaned in and murmured, "Stay calm." His voice was soft, just for her.
Lena nodded, trying to steady herself. Her mind was racing, the suitcase suddenly feeling heavier in her lap. She wasn't sure what was inside, but the weight of responsibility hung over her.
Inside, the house was dimly lit, with old photographs lining the narrow hallway. Faces of ancestors stared back at her, their eyes following them as they walked through the shadows. There was a thickness in the air, like the past lingered here, waiting to be acknowledged.
The man led them to the living room, where several family members sat, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Antony stepped forward with an easy confidence, his presence commanding the room.
"Thank you all for gathering here tonight," he began, his voice steady. "I won't take much of your time, but it's important we address some unfinished matters... matters that concern your family."
The room fell into a hush, the tension thick. Antony's gaze swept over the faces in front of him—three generations of the family, sitting in quiet anticipation. He gave Lena a brief nod, his eyes flicking toward the suitcase. She clutched it tightly, feeling the weight of secrets she didn't yet understand.
Antony's expression softened as he continued. "What I'm about to share may surprise you, but I ask that you listen carefully. It's not just a story—it's a bridge to your past. And it's time to honor the wishes of someone very dear to you."
Lena's pulse quickened as the family leaned in, their skepticism giving way to quiet curiosity. Whatever Antony had planned, he had laid the groundwork perfectly. Now, it was only a matter of time before the truth—whatever that truth was—would come to light.