Perfect 🔥 Blessing — Chapter Seven will turn everything up a notch.
Here's what will happen next (before I start writing):
âś… Mr. Ryan begins tailing Ethan secretly.
âś… He uncovers a hidden meeting pl
The night was a storm waiting to break.
Thunder rumbled above the Morelle estate, and the city below shimmered under restless clouds.
Inside his car, Mr. Ryan waited — patient, quiet, invisible.
He had been following Ethan Morelle for three nights now. Each night, the man left the mansion under the same pretext: "business at the office." But Ryan had already confirmed — the office had been closed for weeks.
So tonight, he followed.
Ethan's black Mercedes moved through the narrow streets of the old industrial district — the one Ryan had traced from Clarissa's last phone call. The headlights cut through the fog like blades, and Ryan kept his distance, his engine humming low.
Finally, Ethan turned off the main road and stopped near a rusted warehouse.
Ryan killed his lights and watched. Ethan stepped out, looked around carefully, then entered through a side door.
Ryan noted the address — Pierce Street, Lot 9. The exact area where the call signal had last been detected.
He reached for his recorder and whispered,
> "Subject has entered the location. Time — 11:42 PM. Area matches Clarissa's call trace."
Then he got out, silent as smoke, and followed.
---
Inside, the air was thick with dust and oil. Broken windows lined the ceiling. Rain dripped through the cracks in slow, heavy drops.
Ryan crept closer, hiding behind a stack of crates.
Then he heard voices.
Ethan's, low and strained —
> "I told you I don't want any part in this anymore. It's gone too far."
And another voice — distorted, electronic, like it came from behind a speaker.
> "You don't get to choose now, Mr. Morelle. You made your decision the night she disappeared."
Ryan froze. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Clarissa.
He pressed his recorder closer, straining to hear.
Ethan sounded desperate now.
> "You said she wouldn't be harmed!"
> "And she wasn't… not yet."
Then — silence. Heavy, deliberate.
Ryan risked a look.
Through a narrow gap, he saw Ethan standing near a large glass window, speaking to what looked like a reflection — but it wasn't. Behind that glass was a room, dimly lit… and there was a chair. Chains.
Empty.
Ryan snapped a photo quietly.
The voice came again.
> "Remember, Ethan — loyalty is a dangerous thing to lose."
Then the lights flickered, and the sound cut off.
Ethan stood there, breathing hard, his hands trembling as he pulled out his phone. He typed a message quickly before storming out of the warehouse.
Ryan waited until he was gone, then entered.
The room behind the glass was cold — colder than the night outside. He touched the chains, still warm from recent contact. Someone had been there.
And on the floor, near the chair, he saw it — a torn piece of fabric. Red silk.
Clarissa's.
Ryan pocketed it, his jaw tightening.
> "We're getting close," he muttered. "Too close."
---
Back at the mansion, Amira Lane couldn't sleep.
She sat by the window, staring at the rain, her thoughts spiraling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Clarissa's face — smiling, alive.
And now, guilt was eating her from the inside.
Her phone buzzed suddenly. One message.
Ethan: "We need to talk. Tomorrow. 8PM. Garden."
She stared at it, her heart pounding.
But before she could reply, another message came — from an unknown number.
Unknown: "Don't meet him. He's not the same man anymore."
Amira dropped the phone, her hands shaking.
Who was sending these messages? Who knew about them?
She went to the mirror, staring at her own reflection — her eyes red, her lips trembling.
"I didn't mean for any of this," she whispered to herself. "Clarissa, I swear…"
But her voice cracked before she could finish.
Outside, lightning flashed — and for a moment, in the reflection behind her, a shadow moved.
Someone had been listening.
---
Meanwhile, far from the mansion, Clarissa sat in the dark.
Her wrists were sore from the ropes, her voice weak from calling out. She had stopped counting the days.
Tonight, though, something was different. The room felt colder. Quieter.
And then, a voice from the intercom — the same deep, distorted one she'd heard before.
> "Do you know who betrayed you, Clarissa?"
She stiffened. "Who are you?"
> "The one who promised to love you… was the first to lie."
Her heart stopped. Ethan.
> "You're lying," she whispered.
> "Am I?"
The voice chuckled softly — the sound of someone who knew more than they should.
> "He visits the place where you vanished. He speaks to your silence. You should've known, Clarissa — trust can be the most elegant weapon."
Then the intercom clicked off.
Clarissa sat still, her tears tracing slow paths down her cheeks.
"Ethan…" she whispered, broken.
---
Back at the mansion, Mr. Ryan returned at dawn, soaked and tired. He went straight to Lord Damien's office and dropped a file on his desk.
Inside were photos of Ethan at the warehouse.
The timestamp. The location. The fabric.
Lord Damien looked up slowly, disbelief turning to rage.
"You mean my daughter's husband is connected to her disappearance?"
Ryan's face was grave.
> "I don't know yet, my lord. But whatever he's into — it's not innocent. And I fear Miss Lane may be in danger too."
Damien rose, his voice trembling with fury.
> "Find him, Ryan. Find him — and bring me the truth."
Ryan nodded once.
> "Yes, my lord."
But as he turned to leave, he thought of the warehouse, the voice behind the glass, and the way Ethan had said — "You said she wouldn't be harmed."
Something deeper was at play — something much darker than betrayal.
And for the first time, Ryan realized…
This wasn't about love anymore.
It was about survival.