Chapter 7

THE BLACK HEART

"Should you be scared of me? Maybe yes, maybe no… well, definitely no… Hahaha."

The laughter that followed was strange, hollow, almost unnatural. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from amusement; it was the kind that meant mockery; it was controlled, deliberate, and unsettling. Michael's voice lingered in the air like a whisper laced with menace.

Everything about him felt… strange.

His presence carried an odd weight, like standing too close to something that shouldn’t exist. The lighting of the room only amplified the oddity of his features, the sharp angles of his face, the unnatural glint in his eyes, and the way his lips curled ever so slightly as if he knew something I didn’t.

My instincts screamed at me to leave, yet my feet remained frozen. I was only inches away from him now, but an invisible force, fear, uncertainty, kept me from stepping any closer.

His lips curled into another smile, but this time, his teeth remained hidden. "Here."

I followed his movement as he extended his hand. A sleek, black envelope rested between his fingers.

Something about it made my stomach twist.

I hesitated. A black envelope? I had never seen one before. It wasn’t just the color that unsettled me, it was the way the paper absorbed the light instead of reflecting it, almost like it was swallowing the shadows around it.

"What is this?" I murmured, keeping my voice steady despite the unease crawling up my spine.

Michael didn’t blink. "Don’t ask questions… you don’t have that privilege. Take it." His voice was smooth, casual even, but there was an underlying authority to it, one that suggested there were consequences for defiance.

He stretched his arm further, bringing the envelope closer.

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching at my sides. The air felt much more tense.

My breath hitched as I finally reached for it, expecting some kind of shock, a trick, something.

But… nothing happened.

The envelope was just paper. Just paper.

Michael chuckled softly, tilting his head as he studied me. "Why so tense? Breathe, child. Breathe." His words sent a shiver down my spine, like an unseen force wrapping around me.

He stepped past me with slow, deliberate movements, his presence brushing against me like a whisper in the dark.

I turned quickly. "What am I supposed to do with this?" My fingers fiddled with the envelope as I tried to open it.

Michael didn’t stop walking, but his voice remained crisp. "Stop!"

I froze. His voice wasn’t loud, yet it commanded attention, sending a pulse of tension through the air.

He turned his head just enough to lock eyes with me. "Don’t open it. It isn’t for you."

My heart pounded. "Then who is it for?"

He smirked, the corners of his lips barely lifting. "You have a job. Take this envelope to Cameroon."

A frown pulled at my brows. "Huh?" The absurdity of his words struck me like a slap. "What do you mean? I told you, I don’t know anything about this man, I…"

"Shhhhh."

His finger lifted in the air, silencing me in an instant. His eyes darkened, his smirk vanishing.

"No questions. No arguments. Just take the envelope to him. You will find him."

His voice was unnervingly calm.

"And… do not make the mistake of opening it. You can go."

As if dismissing me, he turned away and disappeared through the same door he had come from, leaving me standing there, gripping the black envelope like it was a bomb waiting to explode.

I lingered for a moment, my breath uneven, my mind tangled in questions. Why me? Why this? Why did he want me to give this to Cameroon?

I didn’t have answers, but I knew one thing for certain, Michael wasn’t someone I wanted to test.

I took a brief moment to scan myself, swayed my hand over my head, put my hair back in order, and adjusted my outfit.

I turned sharply on my heels and walked out of the mansion.

*****

The cab ride was a blur of city buzz and silent tension.

I sat in the back seat, gripping the envelope in my lap, my fingers unconsciously tracing its edges. My thoughts churned violently.

What if I just ignore this? What happens then? What’s inside this damn thing?

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. The silence inside the car felt heavier than it should. Even the driver, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, seemed to sense the tension radiating from me.

My eyes darted from building to building as I glanced through the window, lost in the weight of everything.

Something wasn’t right.

****

Home

"Diana! Diana!"

The second I stepped through the front door, my father’s voice rang out like an alarm.

Before I could react, he was in front of me, his hands grasping my face, tilting my head left and right. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Talk to me?

I barely had time to protest before he grabbed my wrists next, flipping them over, his eyes scanning every inch of me like I had just survived a battlefield.

I yanked my arms away, exasperated. "Dad, stop!"

His face was tense, his eyes filled with something between worry and frustration. "What happened at his house?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Nothing happened, Dad. I'm fine. I just… I just want to go to my room."

"Diana, wait…"

I didn’t. I walked past him, my mind too overwhelmed to deal with his questions.

His voice followed me. "Diana, talk to me!"

I didn’t stop until I was inside my room. The moment the door shut behind me, I exhaled heavily, pressing my back against it.

The silence in my room was deafening.

I closed my eyes and took a break. Michael’s image popped into my mind, his eyes, the way they flashed. The way his voice crawled under my skin.

I shook my head. No. It was nothing. I was imagining things.

But my gaze dropped to the bag.

And my stomach clenched.

The envelope.

Curiosity gnawed at me. My fingers twitched with the need to know.

I reached for the bag, pulling out the black envelope.

Michael’s warning rang in my head.

"Don’t open it."

I scoffed under my breath. Yeah, right.

I turned the envelope over, my fingers brushing over something… raised? A carving?

I moved toward the window, letting the sunlight catch the details.

My breath hitched.

A heart was engraved onto the envelope. But it wasn’t just a design, it was darker than the rest of the envelope, almost like it was absorbing the light around it.

My pulse piqued.

Without another thought, I slid my finger under the flap, opening the seal.

A single sheet of aged, yellowed paper slipped out.

I blinked. No writing. No markings. Just a blank, ancient-looking page.

I flipped it over. Nothing.

I ran my fingers across the surface.

And then….

My stomach dropped.

The paper was warm.

Not in a way that made sense. Not like it had been in the sun.

It was unnaturally warm.

My breath hitched. I swallowed hard.

This wasn’t just some meaningless piece of paper, right?

This was something else.