Author Richard Matheson Novels & Stories

“And I know you. The way you stalk, push, and provoke…it’s manipulative. I can’t trust anything you say because everything you do feels like a game. You’re not trying to protect me. You’re trying to win.” Lucas’s smile faltered for the first time. “So you believe everything he says? Without question?” “I trust him more than I will ever trust you.” She turned to leave, but before she could take a full step A firm voice cut through the air like thunder: “That’s enough.” Lucas and Madison both turned sharply. Richard. Standing just beyond the patio entrance, his eyes dark and burning. He walked toward them, the tension rolling off him in waves. “Speak of the devil,” Lucas muttered, his voice la

“Please, sit.” Richard looked at him funny… was he being commanded to sit in his own home? But he wasn’t in the mood to be angry. He moved toward the chair opposite them. He didn’t miss how Madame Hale’s gaze followed every motion, like a hawk watching prey circle too close to her nest. He leaned forward, resting his palms on his knees. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said slowly. “For saving what’s left of Hale Corp. But I doubt generosity was your reason.”

I muttered under my breath. The investor, Richard Laughton, was already seated when we arrived. He was older, with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor that immediately put me on edge. His gaze flicked to me as we entered, his expression unreadable. “Richard,” Alexander said, extending a hand. “Thanks for meeting us.” Richard shook his hand but didn’t bother to stand. His eyes shifted back to me, his scrutiny palpable. “And this must be…?” “Leila,” I said, stepping forward and offering my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There was another pause, then a clipped, “Good.” Richard ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket, his expression unreadable, but the storm brewing in his dark eyes spoke volumes. Staring out at the skyline, his reflection in the glass was as sharp and cold as the man himself, and a dark smirk curved his lips — the calm before the inevitable strike.. “Abigail Hamilton,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low promise. “Your days of playing Richard Barton’s fiancée are numbered.” Behind him, Marc exchanged a knowing glance with Jordan, who had stopped tossing the stress ball and now sat forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Sienna wasn’t sure what stunned her more—his words, or the fact that he had actually defended her. But Richard merely chuckled, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Ah, Damien,” he sighed. “Still so impulsive.” Damien’s eyes flashed. “And you’re still so predictable.” The tension crackled between them, thick and suffocating. But then Richard leaned back in his chair, his expression turning almost bored. “Well,” he mused, waving a dismissive hand. “This should be entertaining, at the very least. Let’s see how long your little wife lasts under the pressure.”

"But I assume you didn't come all this way just to compliment our work?" Richard shook his head; a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. "No, I didn't. I came because… because I want to help." The statement was met with stunned silence. Jack was the first to find his voice. "Help? How?" Richard drew a deep breath. "I have spent most of my life in genetics, much of it not in a very praiseworthy way. However, the knowledge, resources, and connections that I can offer could be invaluable to your foundation. Will you have me? I would like to offer my experience—not as a father or a Blackwood, but as a scientist who really wants to atone."

They looked engrossed in their conversation. James's eyes slightly darted, and as soon as he spotted me, his jaw dropped. He tapped Richard on the shoulder and pointed in my direction. When Richard turned, I saw his eyes widen before a lovely proud smile painted his lips. He was looking so breathtaking. He wore a black suit and a white shirt. His long blond hair was tied behind his head, making the contours of his face chiseled. He looked criminally handsome. I have heard that Lucifer is a handsome creature, but I strongly believe that he holds no candle to Richard.

"I know about the shipment you diverted to cover your debts. How do you think Giovanni, Pedro, and the rest of the council would feel about that, hmmm?" If anyone ever asked me to describe a human turning into a tomato, Richard would be the best example to us. "You're bluffing." "Am I?" I leaned closer, my eyes boring into his. "Try me." Tick. Tock. For a long moment, the room was silent, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Then, finally, Richard exhaled before slumping back in his chair. Bingo. “You really are your mother’s son.” he muttered.

He took a seat opposite Raymond without permission, stretching his arms and legs like he owned the place, his smirk firmly in place. “You certainly don’t waste time,” Richard mused, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. “I admire that.” Raymond’s eyes remained hard. “Cut to the chase.” Richard chuckled, leaning forward. “Fine. I’ll be direct. Michelle owns something I want—an estate that’s far more valuable than she realizes. If she signs it over to me, I’ll stop my... interference in Hawthorne Enterprises.”

“Have you ever been to this city before? Ever heard of Tom?” Richard shook his head, his voice firm. “No, never. My assistant found Langston Enterprises, and said it was a solid investment. That’s why I’m here—profit, nothing else.” He set the photo down, his hands steady, his gaze meeting hers. “This is a coincidence, it has to be.” Priya snorted, her voice sharp. “Coincidence? That’s a stretch, buddy.” She stepped closer, her eyes locked on Richard. “Lauren, he’s gotta be lying. Nobody looks that identical by chance.”