Chapter 2 The Visit of the Billionaire

Linda's POV

When Jackson Kane visits Linda's little village, she becomes interested in him.

"What makes that automobile more shiny than the top of the school?"

Squinting at the long black automobile that had just driven up outside the community center, Tasha stood next to me. During our lunch break, we pretended that the sun wasn't melting our sneakers while munching on inexpensive cookies from my bag.

I blinked as I followed her eyes.

This was not the place for the automobile. It didn't do anything. Not the tires. Not the shadowy windows. It wasn't the guy who got out.

I murmured, "That's not from around here," and lowered my voice.

"No kidding." Tasha's gaze expanded. "Is Jackson Kane there?"

I gasped.

The name. Everyone was aware of it. He was the kind of guy who only appeared in TV series, newspapers, and in private discussions at beauty parlors. billionaire. King of business. A heartbreaker.

And now, in front of my school, standing.

The black suit he wore was a perfect fit for him. His complexion was golden as if he lived above worry, his hair was well-groomed, and even the dust on the floor appeared afraid to touch him as he moved.

"Why is he in this place?" Half to myself, I asked.

Tasha smiled. "He could be lost. or bored. or purchasing our whole town.

I didn't chuckle.

Something in the way he gazed up at the structure... He didn't seem to be here on business.

Someone was the reason he was here.

Shortly after lunch, the principal summoned an assembly. Between the drowsy lads and the laughing girls, I took a seat close to the center. The fragrance of floor polish and chalk filled the air.

As if he owned the walls, Jackson Kane stood at the front.

There was silence in the room.

His words were silky and menacing all at once, and he spoke clearly and gently. It has to do with giving back, promoting education, and funding rural schools. Every statement caused the pupils to wriggle and the professors to nod too quickly.

But me?

I gazed.

Because his gaze shifted to my row each time he halted.

My chair.

Me.

A hard touch on my shoulder prevented me from leaving with the throng after the gathering.

"Linda Adair," the principal, Mr. Garvey, remarked. "Mr. Kane wants to speak."

Tasha glanced at me through the door.

I went with him.

All of a sudden, the little office was too warm. Jackson Kane sat on the opposite side of the desk, hands folded, gaze calm, while I stood next to a creaking chair.

He was not smiling.

He said, "You're seventeen."

I gave a nod. I had a dry throat.

"At the top of your class. lives with your granny. No dad. Mom died.

I winced. "Why are you aware of all that?"

"I inquired."

"Why?"

He took a while to respond. He just leaned closer, and his jacket had a fresh, expensive scent about it.

"You have the capacity to succeed. Without opportunity, however, talent is nothing.

"What is meant by that?"

He gave a business card to me. White and simple. His name in clean letters.

Tomorrow after school, stop by the municipal library. A scholarship is something I would want to talk about.

Bewildered and cautious, I accepted the card. "Are you now offering scholarships?"

He said, "Just one."

I searched for anything behind his eyes as I peered up at him.

"Why me?"

He rose slowly. "Because you have a quality that others don't."

Without any more explanation, he left.

abandoning me.

retaining the card.

I'm holding my breath.

That evening, I kept it from my grandmother. She wouldn't comprehend. She believed that stealing souls was the goal of all wealthy men. Perhaps she was correct.

The next day, he was already in the library. By themselves. No helper. No camera. There is just a glass of water and a notepad on the table.

I took a seat. My hands were perspiring.

"This has nothing to do with a scholarship, is it?" Silently, I said.

He squinted his eyes. "No. It comes down to a decision.

"What kind of option is it?"

He slipped a piece of paper toward me after opening the notebook. "A software for individual instruction." individually. It's sponsored by me. This year, you would be the lone student. concentrated study, readiness, and early admission to college.

The document was read by me. It seems authentic. Even better.

"What am I supposed to do?" I inquired.

He lowered his voice. "Believe me."

I ought to have left then. However, something about him caused my legs to go immobile.

I gave a nod.

And the agreement was reached.

I spent weeks meeting him in the library's back room after school. I learned philosophy, economics, and how to read people's eyes as well as their words from him. His teachings were odd yet insightful.

Nobody was aware.

Tasha excluded.

At one point, she murmured, "You think this is smart?" "So much secrecy?"

I said, "I'm learning."

She looked at me. "Or getting seduced."

I didn't respond.

because a portion of me was unaware.

And I didn't care in part.

He touched my hand for the first time, but just briefly.

Perhaps an accident.

But for hours, I sensed it.

The presents followed.

Books. A pen made of silver. A phone that I didn't request.

I attempted to return it.

He gave a headshake. "All scholars need tools."

I put it to use.

Despite the fact that it felt like a collar.

Then everything changed one night.

I saw him parked outside the library as I was heading out. not holding out for me. Awaiting another person.

A lady emerged from the darkness.

Lovely.

youthful.

and expecting a child.

Their voices were low as they talked. She gave a little envelope to him. He didn't seem content.

After reading something inside, he cracked it open and crushed it with his palm.

Behind the wall, I froze.

And he turned-and his eyes weren't cold-when I at last moved into the light.

They were afraid.

"Eliana," he blurted out. "You ought not to be here quite yet."

I didn't respond. I had lost my voice.

He took a step forward. "Return home. Later, I'll give you a call.

I gave a nod.

After that, I continued to walk quickly till I came to the alley behind my flat.

I took the silver phone out.

and saw three calls that were missed.

from an unidentified number.

On the last voicemail, I clicked.

My blood ran cold at the sound of the voice.

since he didn't own it.

It was a woman's voice, tremulous and whispering:

**"He is deceiving you. It wasn't the first baby. The last won't be you. Before he makes you vanish as well, flee. **

I gripped the phone harder, my fingers shaking, and repeatedly played the message.

Every word has a deeper meaning.

Was I the subject of her conversation?

Was Jackson the creature hiding in the shadows that I had failed to notice?

I switched the phone off and gazed up at the night sky. Perhaps the wind felt colder than it had before. I recalled the books, the secret gatherings, and the silver pen. I imagined his hand grazing mine. His eyes had a kind expression. The keen caution in hers.

All of a sudden, something felt off.

So incorrect.

The phone then came back to life.

An unknown number is phoning.

After hesitating, I responded.

This time, however, it wasn't a voice.

The respiration was labored.

Then, in a soft whisper, four words:

**"It's too late already."**

A dark automobile screams around the corner as Linda turns to go home, speeding at her without headlights.