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Abyss. Novel Cover

Abyss.

Elara is the only person to survive a horrific shipwreck, saved by the mysterious Silas Vane. A wealthy recluse, Silas hides a dark history on his secluded island that is as deep as the sea. Though Elara feels a pull toward her rescuer while she heals, unsettling events imply a hidden danger. To survive this intense mystery, she must expose the secrets surrounding Silas before the shadows of the abyss consume her very soul.
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Chapter 2

It had been one hell of a week, the funeral,condolences, visits,and company matters piling up like waves in a storm. Five days had already passed since we laid my father to rest, but the heaviness clung to me like an unwelcome shadow. And ofcourse it was Monday. Since when have Mondays ever been kind? By 10:00am, my day had already sunk into chaos.

Thankfully, I wasn't entirely alone. Mr.Carlos, my father's best friend and the closest thing I had to an uncle, stood by me. They weren't bound by blood,but their bond had been forged in loyalty and time. He was a bald headed man and now that he was old he had gray beards.

“Are you even listening to me?” He calmly asked.

“Yes..” I replied,though my gaze never left the city below.

“ Son,I know it's hard,” He continued, “But this company needs you now more than ever. You need to be very strong for your father's legacy. For yourself.”

“ I understand,uncle.” I muttered. Eyes still on the glass window watching the city below.

Something had caught my attention.A redhead was arguing with a man twice her size. It looked like a heated exchange,her small frame flaring with attitude. It was funny to look at, she looked like a flame dancing in the wind, refusing to be snuffed out.

“I'll come back later”, he sighed, “when you feel like talking. you know where to find me.”

I turned to face him and nodded.

“I'll be at home.” He said gently, then left, exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist on his way out.

“May I come in sir?” the receptionist 's timid voice followed.

“What is it?” I snapped, not even hiding my irritation.

“It's about the interview sir, I needed to confirm the date to inform the applicants. Their CVs has been sent and-”

“What's your name?” I cut her off.

“Paula sir.” Her head down.

“Paula, what's your job here?”

“I-I'm the receptionist,sir.” she answered, her voice trembling.

“Then do whatever the fuck a receptionist is supposed to do, I want a secretary in this office by tomorrow. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” she said,barely audible as she turned and walked away.

Frustrated and worn,I leaned against the edge of the window again. The street fight was over,the redhead gone. The view was emptier now, like silence after a storm. I grabbed my coat and stepped out of the office. I needed air.

Buzz. Buzz . My phone vibrated.

“What do you want?”, I grunted,not even looking at the screen.

“Hola,mi amor”, came the voice in an exaggerating feminine voice.

I sighed. “Juan. You are a cop. How you manage to keep your badge still baffles me.”

“And you clearly know nothing about being a policeman,” Juan retorted,amused.

I turned and spotted him already waiting outside the building,

with the biggest smile of the century. Juan was my best friend, my brother in everything but blood. The only person I tolerated in this chaotic world. He's tall, got eyes like a sharpened sapphire,and brown hair he cares about more than anything, except maybe his girlfriend on certain days. Sometimes I wondered how we became friends, but somehow we just clicked.

“How're you holding up, brother?” He asked, sipping his coffee.

“Pretty much good.” I muttered,tapping through my phone.

“what is it?” He asked,noticing the look on my face.

“Nothing serious.” I brushed it off.

“Aren't you going to order anything coraźon?” He teased again,using that annoying girl voice.

“Imitate that bitch again, Juan. I dare you.” I snapped, eyes narrowing. He was imitating my ex. She used to talk like that.

“Okay, okay chill,just kidding!” He laughed,raising his hands in surrender.

“Speaking of a ‘bitch’, ever since Violetta left, you've been drier than the Sahara desert.” Juan teased.

I stared at him, unamused.

“ Wait…, don't tell me you've got someone now.” He whispered,eyes gleaming.

“You know, I finally get why Aunt Julitta sometimes talks about selling you. Honestly.” I smirked.

“Oh please, my mom adores me. Wanna bet?” Juan grinned, pulling out his phone to call her.

While he was dialing, I glanced outside the café window. I saw another fight, a couple arguing,the girl looked heartbroken. The guy looked desperate. Words didn't need to be heard, their faces told the whole story.

“ Heartbreak was everywhere today. not just mine.” I muttered to myself with a dry chuckle.

“But I am your lovely son! how come Gio gets that?” Juan's complaints snapped me back to reality.

“Okay,okay. Here he is.”

He handed me the phone,and on the screen was the warm, familiar face of Juan's mother.

“Mi hermoso niño” (my handsome boy), She beamed.

“Hola mamá”, I greeted, smiling for the first time today.

“ I am so happy to see your face. Don't let that odiot get to you. You're my favorite son. And I've got presents for you,but I'll show you later, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied with a small grin.

“ You're doing okay, yes?”

“Absolutely, my handsome face says it all, don't you see?”

She laughed warmly, “ah yes,see you later, sweetheart.”

She ended the phone.

“ See?, ah you can't understand the feeling since you have never experienced it.” I laughed.

Juan just rolled his eyes.

We sat there for a while sipping coffee,sharing stories about work,grief and Juan's unstable relationships. And for a moment,the world slowed down.

…..

Later that night, I was sifting through work files,gathering some information since my role as the CEO was about to officially begin. Loans, new products and everything related to the company kept me busy into the night.

Buzz.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from the receptionist with tomorrow's schedule,along with the applicants’CVs and names for the upcoming interviews.

“Lara Christopher, 30 years old.., five years of experience,” I murmured, scanning through the documents.

“Isabelle Manuel, 24 years old…oh, she's a redhead too” I said, glancing at the picture attached.

She looked strangely familiar.

“I feel like I know her,” I muttered, studying her photo more closely.

I couldn't explain why I was so drawn to her at that moment,but something about her was oddly captivating.

“Well, I guess I'll find out tomorrow,” I said, dragging myself to bed. It had been a long day and I desperately needed a good rest.

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