Abigail approached with an air of authority, her grip on Joshua's arm tightening slightly as she spoke, her tone laced with thinly veiled irritation.
"Mr. Morris, may I know what business you have with my husband?"
The emphasis on "my husband" was deliberate. A claim. A reminder. A challenge.
Morris blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the revelation.
"Ms. Bardot, he is your husband?" He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I must say, I wouldn't have believed it. With a man like him? I assumed he was a bachelor. And if he wasn't taken…" He glanced at me before smirking. "I would've asked for his hand in marriage—for my daughter, of course."
I let out a small chuckle, enjoying the way Abigail's face twitched ever so slightly. Joshua stiffened beside her, clearly uncomfortable with how effortlessly I had stolen his spotlight.
I turned to Abigail, flashing her a cocky smile, knowing full well it would annoy her even further.
"Well, what can I say? Some people just have that effect on others."
Her expression darkened, but she remained silent, unwilling to create a scene in front of Morris.
Morris, still amused, turned back to me. "Mr. Gebb, my assistant Linda will escort you to your seat. I'll be there within five minutes with the case files."
I nodded, playing along. "Sounds good."
That's when Linda, Morris' assistant, stepped forward—a stunning woman in a form-fitting emerald dress, her golden-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arm around mine, pulling me close as if we had known each other forever.
"Let's go, Mr. Gebb," she purred, her tone laced with a hint of flirtation.
I could almost hear Abigail's teeth grinding together. Joshua looked equally irritated. But they wouldn't dare say anything—not here, not in front of the elite socialites gathered around.
As we walked, Linda's fingers traced lightly over my arm, and she let out a playful giggle.
"Oh my, your arms are harder than stone, Mr. Gebb. Do you work out?" Her voice was teasing, but her touch was intentional—a deliberate move meant to provoke.
I smirked. "You could say that."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough that Abigail could still hear. "No wonder women call you a Greek God. A body like this… and such a charming face. It's almost unfair."
She then boldly placed my hand on her waist, the warmth of her skin against my palm a clear signal.
I raised an eyebrow at her forwardness but played along. "Well, you're not bad yourself," I responded, my tone dripping with amusement.
She blushed, her grip tightening around my arm.
I glanced back briefly—just in time to catch Abigail's sharp glare and Joshua's barely concealed irritation. Their expressions screamed displeasure, but they were powerless to intervene.
The attention was on me now.
And for the first time, Abigail wasn't the center of the room.
"Enjoy the rest of the evening, Ms. Bardot," I called back smoothly, my smirk deepening.
With that, I walked away, fully aware of the fire I had just ignited.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling a slow breath as I flicked open the silver lighter in my hand. The small flame danced, illuminating my sharp features for a brief moment before igniting the tip of my cigarette.
A trail of smoke curled into the air, swirling lazily above the elegant banquet hall, contrasting against the expensive chandeliers and polished marble floors. The ashtray in front of me sat unused, its presence almost mocking.
I took a slow drag, letting the nicotine settle in my lungs before exhaling a stream of smoke through my lips. The world seemed quieter now, more focused.
That's when Morris arrived, a thick case file in his hands, his steps measured and deliberate. He slid into the seat across from me, adjusting his suit jacket before setting the file down on the table with a soft thud.
"Quite the entrance you made," Morris said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You enjoy making enemies, Mr. Gebb?"
I exhaled another cloud of smoke, tapping the cigarette against the rim of the ashtray before responding.
"Enemies make life interesting," I replied coolly. "Now, let's talk about the job."
Morris chuckled, nodding as he slid the file toward me. "Straight to business. I like that."
I picked up the file, flipping it open to reveal a series of photographs, each one more disturbing than the last. The images depicted an old, decaying mansion, its once-grand architecture now twisted and eerie, covered in overgrown vines and shrouded in mist.
But it was the final set of photographs that caught my interest—bodies.
People who had entered the manor but never left—at least, not alive. Their bodies were found later, their faces frozen in horror, eyes wide and hollow, their flesh twisted as if something had drained them of their very essence.
I flicked through the police reports that were stapled to the file. The authorities had attempted investigations, but no one lasted more than a few hours inside the estate. The official reports were vague, dismissing it as a local myth, but the photographs and witness statements told a different story.
Something inside that house was real.
Morris studied me as I flipped through the documents, his expression unreadable.
"What do you think?" he asked finally.
I took another drag from my cigarette, my gaze lingering on a photo of a massive doorway, its wooden frame carved with ancient symbols.
"You said people go in but never come out." I tapped the photo. "Yet someone had to take these pictures. Who was it?"
Morris hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around his glass of wine before he answered.
"A local journalist. He entered the manor but left after just fifteen minutes. He refused to speak about what he saw. Burned all his notes. Retired from reporting altogether."
I raised an eyebrow. "Yet he gave you these?"
Morris nodded. "I paid a high price for them. He said they were the only copies. The moment I took them off his hands, he disappeared from public life."
Interesting.
I set the cigarette down in the ashtray and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "And what exactly do you want from me, Mr. Morris?"
He met my gaze. "I want you to go inside. Find out what's causing this… curse. If possible, break it. If not—at least bring me answers."
I smirked, closing the file with a soft snap.
"Dangerous request. You must really want this solved."
Morris sighed, rubbing his temples. "It's personal."
That caught my attention. "Personal, huh?"
He hesitated before pulling something out of his jacket—a small silver locket. He placed it on the table and pushed it toward me.
I picked it up, flipping it open to reveal a photo of a young girl.
"My daughter," Morris said quietly. "She went missing three months ago. The last place she was seen was near that manor."
I looked at him, my smirk fading slightly. "So, this isn't just business."
He shook his head. "No. It's not."
I tapped my fingers against the table, considering the situation. A missing person case wrapped in a supernatural horror story? This was getting more interesting by the second.
I reached for my cigarette again, taking another slow drag before finally exhaling, my decision made.
"Alright, Mr. Morris. I'll take the job."
His relief was visible, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. "Good. That's all I needed to hear."
I leaned back, letting the cigarette burn in the ashtray.
"But I'll warn you now—if I step into that house, I'm not going in blind."
Morris nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to."
I stood up, adjusting the cuffs of my black suit, the weight of the job settling over me.
"I'll go tonight. To the manor."
Morris watched me for a moment before speaking again. "Before you leave… there's something you should see."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
"A fortune teller," he said, surprising me. "She's here at the banquet tonight. I don't usually believe in those things, but she… she might know something about the manor."
I let out a low chuckle. "A psychic, huh?"
Morris nodded. "Consider it a client's request. If you're about to step into something supernatural, a little insight couldn't hurt."
I smirked, shaking my head slightly. "Alright, Mr. Morris. Since you asked nicely, I'll stick around for a while."
With that, I took another drag from my cigarette and turned my gaze toward the grand hall, where the banquet continued as if nothing sinister loomed in the distance.
But I knew better.
Tonight, I would seek answers. And tomorrow, I would step into the unknown.