Chasing Shadows in the City

Chapter 1

On a summer day in Eldermoor, the city thrummed with life under the weekend sun, the streets bustling with a flurry of cars and people.

Amidst this vibrant chaos stood Emily Brooks, a young woman in her early twenties, clad in a flowing white chiffon dress. She moved with the grace of a summer breeze, her light brown hair cascading in soft waves, shimmering in the sunlight like polished silk. Emily's bright eyes sparkled with an innocence that felt almost ethereal, framed by delicate eyebrows and long lashes that fluttered with each thought. Her sun-kissed skin glowed, painted with just a hint of color, while her lips held a soft rosy hue that complemented her radiant smile. In that moment, she felt like a silhouette caught between reality and a dream.

Lost in her own musings, Emily barely noticed as someone bumped into her, sending her off balance. She steadied herself, only to find a porcelain-skinned beauty standing before her, looking equally startled.

The girl wore a black T-shirt and pink shorts, a baseball cap perched jauntily atop her head, a veil of sweat glistening at her temples. Eleanor Fairchild was her name, and her striking beauty caught Emily's attention like a moth drawn to a flame—unexpected, enticing, and just a bit bewildering. In that instant, Eleanor forgot the near collision and found herself captivated by the girl before her.

Realizing she had bumped into Eleanor, the girl’s expression shifted to one of apology, but before she could utter a word, she dashed off to her right, urgency painting her every step as if she were escaping from something sinister. Eleanor, still grappling with her curiosity, resisted the urge to get involved.

Two minutes later, her instincts proved correct.

"Excuse me, have you seen a woman in a black shirt run by?" a chilling voice pierced through her thoughts, the abruptness of the inquiry radiating an air of command.

Emily, it seemed, was in real danger.

Eleanor looked up and was confronted by a breathtakingly handsome man and the woman he sought. Towering and bronzed, he bore a striking resemblance to a statue carved by ancient hands, his chiseled features casting him in an almost divine light. His icy blue eyes were fierce and wild, offering a glimpse into a darkness beyond comprehension. With long lashes that framed those enigmatic eyes, he held a magnetic presence that sent a shiver through Eleanor.

Despite the cool confidence he exuded, there was a chilling detachment in his gaze. Memories of the fleeing woman flooded Eleanor's mind—she must be terrified of this man. An unsettling thought crossed her mind: was he a predator?

Eleanor glanced to the left and pointed, feeling a mix of defiance and trepidation. "I think I saw her that way," she said, feigning certainty.

"Are you sure it's this corner?" he pressed, his voice as cold as his eyes.

"Absolutely. She went that way," Eleanor replied, her heart racing. The truth was, the girl had fled in the opposite direction.

Just as she finished her sentence, the man took off in the direction she had indicated, only to stop suddenly, a frown crossing his flawless face as if he sensed something amiss.

Panic surged within Eleanor. This was no ordinary man; he had an instinct for ferreting out lies.

His eyes bore into her, unsettling and piercing, as he asked, “Are you certain she ran this way?”

Eleanor's clear gaze flickered for a moment, but she composure returned. "Of course, why would I lie? I don't know her." The man seemed to weigh her words, choosing to believe her as he turned on his heel and strode away to the left.

That mundane day marked the beginning of a tumultuous chain of events that would alter Eleanor Fairchild’s life forever.

The next morning, William Hawthorne watched the city from the towering windows of his posh office, lost in thought.

He was in the Hawthorne Citadel, the crown jewel of Eldermoor, home to one of the city’s most powerful enterprises. As the CEO of Hawthorne Consortium, William was known as the most eligible bachelor in town, yet a frown darkened his sharp features as he reflected on the events of the previous day.

He was attractive, his skin pale and unblemished, with deep, soulful eyes staring blankly into the horizon, a storm of tension simmering in the atmosphere. The office felt like a pressure cooker, as if the calm before a tempest had settled over him.

“Sir, the engagement party is tomorrow. What are we going to do?” Leonard Griffin, his loyal assistant, entered hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

William's brows knitted together ominously. “Proceed as planned.”

Leonard faltered, disbelief etched on his face. “But sir... the bride is missing. We can’t hold an engagement party without her—”

“Find any woman. Anyone will do,” William snapped, the steel in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. Leonard had been with William long enough to know when he was pushing his limits.

“Anyone?” Leonard echoed, a distinct unease curling in his stomach. With William’s status, finding a suitable replacement was no small task. The business world didn’t operate on whims, and selecting just any woman could have repercussions.

The next few hours would unfold a blend of luck and fate, but one thing was clear: William Hawthorne was not one to take failure lightly, and Leonard needed to tread carefully in this delicate game of uncertainty.

Chapter 2

The silhouette in front of the floor-to-ceiling window finally stirred, turning to face Leonard Griffin, his expression chilling. It was a look that could slice.

“Find that woman in the white dress from yesterday at the corner and bring her to me.”

William Hawthorne, president of the Hawthorne Consortium, was a name everyone recognized, a titan of industry. If word got out that his fiancée had pulled a disappearing act on their engagement night, it would be like watching a spectator sport—the company's many employees would be waiting to see him humiliated, and those opportunistic shareholders would be ready to pounce.

William Hawthorne wasn’t going to let that happen.

His bride was missing, and there was one person to blame. If it hadn’t been for that woman on the street, he wouldn’t have lost her. The one who deceived him, William Hawthorne, would not be let off the hook—she was going to pay for this.

Leonard Griffin had pulled out all the stops. After scouring through footage from the previous day, he had identified over thirty women in white dresses at that intersection. Each one had been questioned thoroughly; he felt like he’d almost dug up their family trees. Of course, the Hawthorne Consortium had connections that made digging for dirt a breeze.

He laid out the women’s profiles and photos on the desk for William to review.

“Boss, these are all the women we found wearing white dresses around that time. See if any match what you’re looking for.”

“Impressive work, Leonard. I’ll double your year-end bonus for this.” William praised, his voice adorned with amusement before he’s hunched over the files, scrutinizing each photo with a fierce intensity.

One by one, he flipped through the images, feeling disappointment rise as none were his fiancée—until he reached the second-to-last photograph. His fingers abruptly stopped, clenched tightly, crumpling the paper as he felt a simmering fury. Leonard caught a glimpse of the cold, vengeful glint in William's eyes; it was as if he could envision tearing that woman limb from limb.

“Who is this?” he growled, pointing to the photo.

Leonard glanced at the details before responding, “Sir, her name is Eleanor Fairchild.”

“Eleanor Fairchild, huh? She seems anything but innocent.” The words slipped from William's mouth, although they were as much for his own ears as Leonard’s.

That treacherous woman—on the surface, she was sweet and trustworthy, but he knew the truth beneath her charm.

A shiver suddenly rippled through his body, a surge of cold fury flooding the office, turning the already chilly air into an icebox. Leonard felt it, too, every instinct screaming that this was a dangerous moment.

The image in his hands was in tatters, shredded like it had been put through a meat grinder.

When had he ever been fooled? Who dared to lie to him? Yet here he was, outsmarted by a mere girl, a blonde with the cunning of a fox, losing his fiancée in the process.

William Hawthorne was not someone to be trifled with. Anyone who crossed him would face the consequences.

“Leonard, have this young lady brought to my engagement party by tomorrow.” His tone was deceptively sweet, his smile carrying a hint of malice. Leonard had been by his side long enough to get the message—this wasn’t just a request; it was an order to capture Eleanor Fairchild.

With a nod, Leonard left the office, ready to tackle the task at hand.

If only Eleanor had known that one small act of kindness would drag her life into a chaotic nightmare, she might have thought twice.

The next morning,

Eleanor Fairchild had just taken out the trash when she stumbled upon a group of men dressed in black. Before she could grasp what was happening, everything went dark.

Time passed—how long, she couldn’t tell—before she blinked awake in an extravagant room that looked as if it belonged to royalty. She’d never seen such opulence in her life.

Looking around, Eleanor noticed she was clothed in a pristine white gown. While the designer was unfamiliar to her, the way it hugged her figure felt almost magical, crafted from the softest material. Around her neck hung a gleaming gold necklace, and her fingers sparkled with an assortment of costly jewelry.

What on earth was going on?

As the details of her abduction circled her mind, she couldn’t recall much beyond being knocked out by those men. She had assumed they meant to rob her, but looking down at herself, it seemed she hadn’t lost a thing. Instead, she felt like she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

She pinched her arm hard, wincing at the sharp pain. No dream?

If this was real, what did those men want with her? She was just an ordinary girl, a nobody. Surely, she hadn’t angered any wealthy elites—none of her friends were even remotely connected to that world.

But why was she dressed like she was headed for a wedding? Was this some kind of crazy film shoot? But then who would cast her, an amateur? The confusion swirled.

Just as she was spiraling in thoughts, the door creaked open.

A man stepped in, strikingly handsome, dressed in a tailored white suit that accentuated his chiseled physique. Even without the fancy attire, he exuded an air of privilege and grace.

Yet, beneath his elegance lay an unsettling coldness that chilled Eleanor to her core.

As her eyes met the icy gaze of the man, a flicker of recognition danced in her mind—but the fear that gripped her heart made it hard to think straight. Who was he? Where had she seen him before?

Chapter 3

Eleanor Fairchild's mind briefly stalled before the realization hit her like a plunge into cold water.

This man—he was the same one from yesterday, the guy she had run into at the corner while lost. She had never seen a face so strikingly handsome before, and it had made quite an impression.

Suddenly, it all started to make sense. She must have been caught for the little lie she told yesterday, dragged here for a reckoning. But as her gaze swept over her luxurious attire and the gleam of gold adorning her wrists, she was struck by an odd contradiction. Why did everything feel so lavish? Wasn’t this supposed to be punishment?

If this man had managed to track her down merely to settle a score over a small deceit, then she guessed he was more powerful than she had initially thought. Fleet-footed, indeed.

“Excuse me, sir, but why am I here?” Eleanor asked, cautiously probing the tension in the air.

“Why? You know better than I do,” he replied, his piercing gaze unnerving, a shadow of menace lurking in his expression. William Hawthorne had an intensity that felt as tangible as it was terrifying.

Her heart raced; there was no escaping the grip of yesterday’s events. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I saw that woman and thought you were some kind of threatening figure. I didn’t mean to mislead you,” she stammered, her voice quivering as she blinked innocently at him, hoping honesty would smooth things over.

His dangerously alluring face cracked a smile, a lopsided grin that twisted her stomach with fear. “Eleanor Fairchild, I assure you, I’m not a good man,” he purred, leaning in closer, cocooning her in an unsettling aura.

She could barely breathe as his presence enveloped her. His eyes sparkled with an incomprehensible depth, and though he was practically an angel sent from above, there was something devilish lurking beneath. Eleanor felt an instinctual pull to retreat. Resting her back against the headboard, she tried to appear less vulnerable.

“Listen, I truly apologize for the misunderstanding. If that woman is your girlfriend, I could introduce you to some lovely friends of mine—Emily's a knockout. With your looks, I'm sure they’d be interested,” she replied, forcing a smile and flicking her gaze around, hoping to distract him.

“No need to involve anyone else. You’ll make amends by simply being yourself,” he countered, his tone dipped in both charm and condescension, and she flinched at the hidden meaning.

“Uh, that’s probably not going to work out,” Eleanor managed, determination creeping into her playful refusal despite the tightening grip of fear around her throat.

“Miss Fairchild, once this game begins, you don’t get to decide the rules. There’s no backing out now,” he said, an eerie grin spreading across his face. The hairs on her neck stood on end.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped, bewildered.

“In exactly one hour, you’ll become my fiancée,” he announced, his intense gaze shining with some wicked pleasure at her shock. He showed no signs of jest, and Eleanor felt her blood run cold.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she shouted in disbelief.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His expression turned serious, and she could feel the coldness seeping into her bones. “You’d better laugh now because once this ceremony is over, you won’t find anything funny about this again.”

His eyes shimmered with a glint of something unholy, and her nervous laughter died in her throat. This was not how life worked. “You may have money, but this is absurd. I made a small mistake, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be your fiancée. That’s not how it works,” she shot back, her voice gaining strength as she refuted his proposal.

Yet, beneath the cool facade, he merely chuckled, his features twisting into a smirk. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

With a snap of his fingers, his assistant, Leonard Griffin, entered, carrying an iPad. The screen flickered to life with a shaky video. It caught her attention immediately; she recognized the house—her parents' home in another city. And then her heart sank.

The camera settled in a shadowy corner, revealing a cluster of ominous red numbers ticking down. A bomb? In her parents' home?

William was not just some wealthy punk; he was dangerous. He found her in no time and installed a bomb without leaving a trace. Her throat constricted as dread washed over her, realizing the full gravity of the situation.

“What did you do? What do you want with my family?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Smart as you are, you can’t possibly be ignorant of my intentions,” he replied, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“You are pure evil!” she spat, horrified.

“And how is that any different? Crazy or not, it’s all a game to me,” he laughed, the sound echoing wickedly in her ears. Burdened by the weight of her terrible choice, Eleanor wished desperately to rewind to the previous day, to undo every moment leading to this confrontation. But regret was a luxury she didn’t have now.

Her pale skin appeared even more ghostly in the tense atmosphere, and fear clamped down hard. This wasn’t just some rich playboy throwing around his money; he was perilously serious, and Eleanor wasn’t merely a pawn in the game—she was trapped in a nightmare.

She was not going to be some temporary back-up for this man, not for a moment. Yet, it seemed wealth and power had dictated every card in his hand, leaving her wondering how she could escape this twisted reality where she was being played with, dangling precariously between survival and his cruel whims.

Chapter 4

William Hawthorne leaned in, gripping Eleanor Fairchild's chin with a fierce hand. His voice dripped with cold malice, like a knife scraping on ice. “You see the countdown ticking away? One hour left. You might want to play nice and go along with this little engagement ceremony. Unless you’d prefer something disastrous to happen to your parents,” he finished, a grim smile curving his lips.

“Are you not afraid of the law? I could report you,” she shot back, a thin veneer of defiance clinging to her.

He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “Oh, really? In one hour, can you dial 911? Can you even get out that door? Even if you do manage to escape, good luck getting the police to take a missing person’s report. Don’t kid yourself, Eleanor,” he said, mocking her.

“If you’re out for revenge, I’m willing to face whatever you throw at me. Just please, don’t toy with something as serious as engagement—there are real lives at stake here,” Eleanor pleaded, her expressive brows knitted in desperation as she gazed at him, the last flickers of hope fading.

William stood tall, indifference etched into his features. “You’re well beyond the point of negotiation, Eleanor. Your only option now is to become my fiancée. From here on out, maybe you should start praying that I treat you kindly,” he said, and strode out of the room with an air of finality.

Eleanor surveyed her surroundings, and as William had stated, the room was a sealed box—no air, no way out, and certainly no hope of calling for help.

Overwhelmed, she sank to the floor, her head drooping in despair. Tears threatened to spill but failed to find release, leaving her as hollow as a withered rose. None of this made any sense. Just yesterday, she innocently tried to help a woman in trouble, and now she was facing the unimaginable—becoming someone else’s bride in an hour, a man she had never even met.

What kind of life awaited her with a man like William Hawthorne, cold and malicious? Just imagining it sent shivers down her spine.

Moments later, Leonard Griffin, William's assistant, entered with a calm demeanor. “Eleanor, it’s time to head to the venue,” he said, his politeness failing to hide an undercurrent of command.

Eleanor knew she had no real choices left. It was now or never—if she stayed, her parents might be in danger. But if she stepped outside, turning back would be nearly impossible.

With resignation wrapping around her like a cloak, she rose and followed Leonard out of the room.

They arrived at the Hawthorne Dominion’s banquet hall, an extravagant venue filled with the city’s elite, every corner shimmering with opulence. The air buzzed with joyful chatter and laughter. If only her mind wasn’t clouded with worry, Eleanor might have marveled at the exquisite surroundings. But for a girl raised in modest circumstances, this splendor felt more like a gilded cage.

Gorgeous women and dashing men flowed through the crowd like waves, while the host delivered an unbroken stream of charm and charisma. Yet Eleanor’s mind was miles away, fixated on her parents’ safety.

Bathed in luxurious lights, Eleanor was helped into the hall by two unfamiliar bridesmaids. As she entered, William took her delicate hand, guiding her to the stage where they stood before countless eyes.

Her hair was neatly pinned up, and her gown—a lavish white satin adorned with pearls—swept down to the ground. Eleanor radiated grace, looking every bit the princess. But her beauty contrasted sharply with the hollow stone in her chest. There was no joy to be found in the spotlight; the sorrow that filled her had snuffed out any trace of a smile.

William leaned closer, his voice a low hiss laced with menace. “What’s the matter, Eleanor? Did your parents die, or did someone scratch a check for five hundred grand? Smile like a statue, or I’ll make sure they turn to ash.”

The chill of his threat froze her blood, but Eleanor’s resolve held strong. “You really think I could smile knowing my parents are at the end of your leash?” She shot back, her voice steady.

“Correct answer, but you still need to smile, or I can't promise they’ll see the sun rise again,” he replied, heavy with danger.

Eleanor forced a smile, a mask burdened with dread, nodding at the unknown faces around her as if conducting an inspection.

In William's eyes, she saw a flicker of amusement. There was a unique art to her performance—an untrained actress playing a part well.

As the engagement ceremony kicked off, Eleanor hardly absorbed the words spoken around her. She stood like an automaton, responding to every question with “I do” or “I will” until thirty minutes later, it mercifully concluded.

Post-ceremony, she and William navigated through the throngs, accepting hollow congratulations and pleasantries. But the unease gnawed at Eleanor like a phantom itch, a sensation that eyes were scrutinizing her every move. Each time she turned around, however, she met only oblivion.

Unbeknownst to her, that gaze had been fixated on her from the moment she entered the hall. When searching for something desperately, often the discovery is tinged with loss; it was true now—the girl who had entered was no longer the same.

Eventually, that haunting gaze slipped away, swallowed by the dazzling lights.

As the evening wound down and guests trickled out, Leonard escorted Eleanor into a posh mansion.

To quell her swirling doubts and concerns, Leonard produced evidence—pictures of the bomb threat against her parents neutralized. With a sigh of relief, Eleanor finally felt the weight lift, even if just a little. The real game was about to begin.

Chapter 5

On this lonely night, Eleanor Fairchild felt utterly helpless. She was afraid to tell her parents about her predicament. If they knew, it would only worry them, and she knew that their awareness of the situation would bring nothing but trouble. That cold-hearted William Hawthorne could very well do something dreadful to her parents if he saw it fit.

“Miss Fairchild, Mr. Hawthorne will be back later. You should get some rest, or you can wait for him here. I’ll take my leave now,” Leonard Griffin said, ushering the two servants out of the villa with a wave, leaving Eleanor all alone.

Entering the mansion for the first time, Eleanor was struck by its grandeur, like something out of a storybook. The lavish decor must have cost a fortune. She was just an ordinary office worker, the daughter of two humble parents who ran a small bakery in Ravenhurst. Even if she worked her entire life, she knew she would never be able to afford such opulence.

No matter how extravagant, it wasn’t hers. Eleanor was all too aware of her place in the world, and she had neither the desire nor the luxury to appreciate the surroundings. Instead, she was preoccupied with her fate—William Hawthorne looked at her with a venomous hatred that suggested he wouldn’t let her off easily.

Sitting alone on a plush leather couch in the vast living room, Eleanor hesitated to retreat to her room for fear that she might fall asleep. If she did and William returned, who knew what horrors might await her? Remaining quietly on the couch seemed like the safest option.

Two hours passed in silence. The door showed no signs of opening; perhaps, she thought, William wouldn’t come back tonight after all. However, as her thoughts drifted, fatigue washed over her like a tidal wave, and she felt herself slipping into a doze, leaning against the couch.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when the sound of the door opening jolted her awake. A chill swept through the air, sharp as a knife, and instinctively Eleanor sensed danger creeping closer. She snapped to full awareness.

The terrifying man had returned.

Only he carried such an ominous aura. Every fiber of Eleanor's being urged her to flee. But before she could run, the door slammed open.

The black leather couch was tall, and Eleanor's petite frame could hide perfectly behind it. Taking advantage of the moment, she ducked down, heart racing as she tried to remain unseen just as William sauntered in, arm draped around a provocatively dressed woman, her physique curvy and enticing.

They seemed barely able to contain their excitement, barely waiting to step inside before their lips locked.

Eleanor crouched behind the couch, horrified and transfixed. She wished she could block out the scene, but her mind struggled to shut off. The sounds coming from the room transformed her discomfort into something far more unbearable. It was as if her last meal might make a desperate exit.

The intensity of their coupling was appalling. This was far more explicit than anything she had seen before, putting some of what she heard from far-off lands to shame. Eleanor sat, mouth agape, unable to tear her eyes away, even as she pressed her palms against her ears in a fruitless effort to shut out the noise.

The entire room echoed with the woman’s high-pitched cries, grating against Eleanor's ears like nails on a chalkboard, flushing her cheeks with heat. How could the woman not tire of screaming? Eleanor found herself considering running to the kitchen for a glass of water just to help her cool down.

Time stretched on, and squatting behind the couch, Eleanor’s legs began to ache with prolonged tension. Yet William and his companion remained engrossed in their passionate rendezvous. She could bear it no longer; continuing to endure this was enough to drive anyone mad.

The scene sprawled before her, a desperate call for escape. She focused on her quiet exit, knowing if she tiptoed away, they were too distracted to notice.

They were engrossed, surely they weren't even thinking of her right now. The fervor of their physical connection blinded them to anything else. With a sudden rush of determination, she crept out from her hiding place, planning to head upstairs.

But fate had other ideas. Just as she reached the base of the staircase, William's icy tone cut through the air like a laser.

“Stay right there. Don’t move.”

The chill of his voice sent a tremor through her. Eleanor froze in place, heart hammering in her chest, mentally cursing the perceptiveness of that devilish man.

She had expected him to pause, to perhaps allow her to sneak away. Instead, he ordered her to stand still, while he carried on with his indiscretions.

When she saw him in this moment, Eleanor instinctively covered her eyes, horrified. She was terrified she’d unleash the remnants of the birthday cake Albert had made for her last year.

Spotting her reaction, William’s voice grew furious. “Eleanor Fairchild! Get over here,” he barked.

Eleanor flinched at his command, refusing to believe he meant her. The audacity of having another woman in the house on their very first engagement, expecting her to merely watch, filled her with disgust.

Despicable, vile, and crass—those were the most benign words to describe him, and even then, they hardly did justice. He was worse than scum; he was a predator snatching at what he pleased.

“Do you see the sweat on my forehead? Come help me wipe it off,” William taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eleanor could feel her face turning beet red with embarrassment. How was he this shameless? There was no way she was getting within a mile of him. “You’re a sicko,” she snapped.

“You’d better learn to handle this if you want to survive around me. Trust me, it won’t be easy,” he responded.

Eleanor fought against the wave of nausea rising within her, feeling her stomach churn.

“What are you waiting for? Get over here,” he growled, impatience thick in his tone as he glared down at her.

“Eleanor Fairchild, wipe my sweat, or do I need to show you what happens when you make me angry? Choose now,” he insisted, his voice a menacing growl.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Eleanor understood all too well what he meant. She wanted nothing to do with this man, but she couldn’t afford to provoke him. She had to tread carefully, or who knew what might happen next.

There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Chasing Shadows in the City"

(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).

❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️