It was a rainy night in Mission Hills, Fremont.A good weather for couples to dine in. Well not for everyone, especially not for someone like Fred, who had his job as his lover. The generational job was what he held on to and wouldn’t want it to slip away into the hands of his enemies.He drew the brush out of the ink bottle and pasted it on the painting, he did it so skillfully that one would think he had studied creative art for a very long time. Then he took the ink bottle and splashed it on the other side of the drawing, so it could form an irregular shape, it did form, a beautiful one at that.The cold had him perambulating round the room. He decided to shut the windows and retire to bed, unfortunately the strong wind took the brush out of the room through the window and into the garden. “Darn it! “ he cursed as he shut the window and walked down to the hall.It was so quiet down there, everyone might have retired to bed. He pushed the giant door open and walked

Was he the only one seeing Demi drive in and walk into the house?Fred was bewildered, panting round the room. His fear was back, fear of spending his whole life with someone he had no feelings for, but he couldn’t sit hiding in his gigantic room, she would come knocking.Quietly walking to the dressing table and grabbing a comb, he ran the strings down his hair, making sure he was nicely dressed so his awkward fiancée won’t create a sin on their first meeting in five years.Every step he took out of his room and down the stairs felt like being swallowed by a whale, the Sloane lady was sitting across the living room, speaking with Miss Amy, she was speaking so fast he wished she could be put on a slow motion.But that wasn’t his problem, his problem was right in the living room, speaking with Mrs. Kareena. She was nicely dressed, obviously in her most expensive designers.When their eyes met he felt a thousand fangs piercing through his glottis and when she walked to

A gigantic house like this should have signboards, this was what she was thinking, trying to get a clue on which passage leads to the bunkhouse.The frustrating old lady had ordered her to call the workers herself since she was being paid for job, if truly she was the one getting the money then she wouldn’t be wasting her time trying to steal from the arrogant and insensitive Fred Manchester.“I despise him!” she cursed, heading towards the first passage at her sight, it was separate from the building, definitely not the one leading to Fred’s room.The lobby was a dark one with flames building up at one angle and at the other was a caged dove, one would think it was a lane for sorcerers.She was still moving, searching every opened door with her eyes. Phoebe had warned her not to ruin their plans but it seemed like there was nothing to ruin since none of her plans had been carried out without being seen by the old lady, if only someone had told her there was

“Where’s my father!”Fred welcomed everyone with this words, his eyes filled with rage. He was perambulating round the living room, his hands sweating from the edginess inside of him. “What’s wrong Fred?” Mrs. Kareena walked up to him. “I need to see that man who calls himself my father, that selfish man.”“Enough!” Mr. Manchester appeared from the opening passage, his smirk filled with pure evil. He slowly walked to his son. “Here I am.”The workers had their eyes on what they called the unending father and son drama.“What did you do Mr. Maxwell? What happened to the funds for the charity home?”Mr. Manchester smiled, he was smiling so hard and refused to speak.“Talk to me,” Fred drew his father closer. There were gasps from all corners of the room.“Everyone go in!” Mrs. Kareena ordered and they all obeyed.His hands were still on his father’s neck collar. “I raised a million dollars each for four charity homes only for me to wake and it

The window to the mini apartment flung open by the wind as the heavy downpour began. The meowing of cats and hooting of the night birds made it even worse to think straight. It was a scary hour in Mission Hills.Phoebe ran to the door of the apartment with hand tucked to her pocket, she knocked on it with the strength left in her after a whole race from nature, finding no excuse to bring the door down if no one answered, but there wouldn’t be a need for that as the door creak came loud in her ears and someone signaled her to come in.With hands still tucked to her pocket, she walked into the lit house.“I’ll help with your coat,” the woman smiled, helping her pull off her jacket. She took it away from her hands and hung it on the wall close to the door. “Please have a sit.”Phoebe smiled and sat in the old couch, with furs on it like that of an unshaven yeti. The apartment was not too bad as she had thought, the lamps were brightly lit like those in scary movies