Chapter 2: The Darkness of the Living Room

The villa’s massive living room was nearly submerged in darkness. A single lamp in the distance cast faint reflections on the marble. On the glass surfaces. Through the windows, car lights from the opposite slope tore through the silence. Scott sat in the armchair. A glass of whiskey in his hand. Every time the lights hit him, his shadow stretched across the room. Like an invisible curtain.

Lori returned to the villa clutching her bag. She opened the door. Walked toward her room. Wondered why it was so dark. She didn’t turn on a light. Passing the living room, the headlights of a passing car revealed Scott’s dark figure. Lori didn’t expect anyone at this hour. A stifled scream of terror escaped her lips. She lunged backward by instinct.

She looked closer at the armchair. The car lights faded. Darkness reclaimed the vast room.

“Mr. Scott?” she asked timidly.

His body. His posture. His calm breathing. Everything provoked a mixed sense of fear and respect.

“Sorry ... I didn’t mean to walk in like this...” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were sitting here.”

Scott turned his gaze. Smiled faintly. Unhurried.

“Don’t worry, Lori. Sometimes darkness is just ... a friend,” he said. His voice was calm. Deep. With a texture that suggested these weren’t just words. “So? How did you spend your afternoon? You had the day off today, right?”

Lori felt his words and the atmosphere inviting her to stay. She approached. Stood by a modern chair. To the right and slightly in front of him. “It was nice. I went for a walk in the park with my classmates ... Thank you for asking.”

Scott looked at her. Took a sip of whiskey from the heavy glass.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your time here ... You know, I’m perfectly satisfied. Besides being good at your job, the most important thing for me is that you have a good character...”

She smiled with pride. His opinion mattered to her. A lot. But hearing “good character” made her bow her head. Scott noticed.

“Don’t just stand there. Sit. Have a drink if you like.” Her eyes wandered across the room for a moment. She sat slowly. Tucked her skirt to cover her legs.

“We never had a chance to talk, Lori. Tell me about your family,” he said slowly. “Where do you come from?”

Lori cleared her throat. Her voice was uncertain, but steady. “My family ... things aren’t easy. My father has issues with alcohol. Works odd jobs. My mother tries to keep the house standing with whatever she has.

It was—it still is—hard. And I...”

She stopped. Stared at Scott’s whiskey glass. “I decided to study. To become everything my parents couldn’t offer me. It was tough. I was trying to survive. Any way I could.”

Scott nodded slowly. No judgment. Only interest.

“That’s noble, Lori. It shows courage.” He swirled his glass. The sound of ice hitting glass filled the silence. “And before you came here? Did you work somewhere?”

“As a kid, I did jobs for pocket money. Delivered newspapers. Washed cars. Odd jobs.” Lori took a deep breath. “After I left for college, I worked as a waitress. For about six months. The money was little. With tips, I could barely pay the rent. I ate once a day.”