LONELY HEARTS
Esmé's life takes a dramatic turn when she becomes entwined with Eiser, a son from a powerful family. Haunted by loss and trapped in a loveless marriage, she battles to connect with a man who conceals his emotions behind walls of silen...
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A WEEK OF SILENCE
“It is sad not to love, but it is much sadder not to be able to love.” —Miguel de Unamuno
The room was dimly lit, the glow of a single overhead light casting sharp shadows across the mahogany table.
Eiser sat at its head, his posture commanding and unnervingly composed.
He was dressed in his usual black suit, the faintest trace of blood still visible on the cuff of his white shirt—a haunting of his earlier encounter.
Around the table sat his most trusted men, each one hardened by years of loyalty and crime.
Maps, documents, and a few ominous ledgers were spread across the surface. The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air as silence gripped the room.
Eiser leaned forward, his pale hands steepled under his chin. His piercing blue eyes scanned the gathered faces, daring anyone to falter under his gaze.
"We've been complacent," his voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp like a blade. "Rivals think they can move in on our docks."
One of his lieutenants, a younger man with a nervous twitch, cleared his throat. "We've lost three shipments this month. The men—"
"Are replaceable," Eiser interrupted, his tone icy. "What’s not replaceable is my patience."
He pushed back his chair and stood, the commanding presence silencing any further objections. Moving to the window, he pulled back the heavy curtain and looked out at the city below.
The moonlight glinted off his face, casting sharp shadows over his features.
“This is our territory,” he continued. “We don’t negotiate. We dominate. I want them to feel the weight of what they’ve done. Make it personal.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, but Eiser didn’t turn around. His mind was elsewhere, calculating, planning, already five steps ahead.
As the meeting concluded, one of his most senior men hesitated by the door. "Sir, will you be returning home tonight?"
Eiser’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Home.
That word carried little meaning. The mansion was a fortress, a place for rest but never comfort. His wife’s quiet presence lingered there, an echo of the life he couldn’t grasp.
“Eventually,” he replied, his voice low. “But not tonight.”
As the men filed out, Eiser poured himself a drink and leaned against the table, the amber liquid catching the faint light.
Outside, the world awaited his next move—a predator’s game, and he was always one step ahead.
