9. Raven

Chapter 9

Raven

A green smoothie sounded perfect right now. I headed toward the state-of-the-art kitchen, where a blender awaited my daily ritual. "And then those lines for next week's scenes."

My routine was a well-oiled machine, reflective of the discipline that catapulted me from modest beginnings to Hollywood royalty. As I sipped the verdant liquid, rich with the taste of kale and spirulina, savoring the solitude before the day's commitments pulled me into their relentless tide.

The sharp ring of the telephone shattered the tranquility of my home office. The sound sliced through the morning calm like a warning siren. I sat down my glass and strode toward the office, bare feet pattering against the floor.

"Probably just another script offer," I whispered, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. My hand hesitated above the receiver before snatching it up. "Raven Fields speaking."

Silence greeted me at first, an eerie void that prickled the skin at the back of my neck. Then came the voice, distorted and chilling, its words slithering into my ear like a malevolent serpent.

"Good morning. I do hope you're enjoying the sunshine."

"Who is this?" I glanced around, even though I was alone.

"Does it matter? I'm someone who can't stop thinking about you."

"Listen, if this is some kind of joke—"

"Shh," the voice interrupted, its mock tenderness belying an undercurrent of threat. "Jokes are meant to make people laugh. I'm not sure you'll find this funny at all."

My grip on the receiver tightened, knuckles blanching. I took a measured breath, fighting to maintain my composure. "I'm hanging up now. Don't call here again."

"Ah, but I will, Raven. Again and again." The line went dead, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

I slowly replaced the receiver, mind racing. This wasn't the first call, and the unsettling realization that someone was watching me, obsessing over me, sent a shiver down my spine.

Stay calm. You can handle this . But even as I spoke the words, the seed of unease planted by the caller's voice took root, threatening to grow into full-blown fear. Not here. Not in my sanctuary.

I stalked through the marble hallways of my mansion, the echo of footsteps a stark reminder of the silence. The unsettling calls chipped away at my peace, but I refused to buckle under the weight.

Whoever you are, it's going to take more than creepy phone calls to scare me . My fingers trailed along the smooth surface of the grand piano in the lounge, a symbol of the life I'd built with sheer determination.

The quietness throughout the house was eerie. I entered the home office once again, determined to focus on the script awaiting my attention so I could lose myself in a role that didn't involve being the target of some anonymous harasser. Picking up the pages, I tried to immerse myself in the world of the character, but the words blurred before my eyes.

Concentrate. You're Raven Fields, for heaven's sake. You've faced bigger challenges than this.

The ring of the phone sliced through the quiet like a knife, startling me so intensely that the script fluttered from my hands to the floor. A moment of hesitation gripped me, a silent battle between my instinct to ignore it and the inexorable pull of curiosity.

"Hello?"

Silence. Not even the sound of breathing—just an oppressive, empty void that seemed to stretch out indefinitely. My heart thudded painfully. I should hang up, but something compelled me to speak into the void.

"Who is this? What do you want from me?" I waited. "Alright, you've had your fun. I'm not playing these games." But as the silence persisted, my bravado faltered. There was no response, no derisive chuckle or whispered threat, yet I felt the presence on the other end of the line—an unspoken menace that left my skin crawling.

"Fine," I snapped, slamming the receiver down with more force than necessary. I leaned back against the desk, breath coming in shallow drafts. The room seemed colder, the shadows lurking in the corners taking on a menacing quality.

Get a grip . I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and then opened them. My gaze fell upon my reflection in the window. The strong-willed, resilient woman staring back at me looked unruffled, but I knew better.

"Whoever you are, you won't win."

As I turned away from the glass, a silhouette etched against the fading light, the resolve etched into my features belied the creeping dread that wound its way through my veins. I paced the length of the office, each stride echoing off the marble floor like a metronome ticking away my composure. My phone sat on the desk, a sleek black obelisk that seemed to pulsate with malevolent intent. I could feel its weight in the room, a silent demand for my attention.

My thoughts were a whirlwind, a tumultuous debate between vulnerability and valor. Trust was a currency I'd learned to spend sparingly, and now the cost of it gnawed at my conscience.

Damn it . I braced my hands against the cool surface of the desk. The phone rang again, shattering the stillness of the room. I snatched the receiver, pulse hammering in my ears. "What do you want?" I snapped, but once more, only silence greeted me. "Talk to me!"

The calls kept coming, relentless as waves against the shore, eroding my resolve. Each time I answered, the silence on the other end was a confirmation. Someone was watching. Waiting. Testing.

"Is this how you get your thrills? You think you can scare me into submission?"

But bravado was a thin veil, and beneath it, my certainty wavered. The game changed; the rules were unfamiliar, and I was no longer certain I held any cards at all.

"Fine. I'll play along, but on my terms."

I hung up the phone with a decisive click, mind made up. There would be no more hiding from the truth, no more solitary battles. Tomorrow I would call the police, break down the walls I'd built so carefully. But tonight, I'd stand watch, a sentinel in my home, guarding against the unknown.

My fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the glass surface of the sleek office desk, the echo bouncing off the minimalist decor of the room.

Jerome was in the shower, but I didn't want to barge in on him. Did they know I was alone? When I heard the bathroom door open and shut, I knocked on his door.

"I got more calls."

It took a second for a response. "I'm getting dressed and then I'll do a sweep. Be out in a sec."

My fingers danced over the keys of the laptop, typing out an email I'd been procrastinating on all morning while he did his check. The silence of the spacious office was a welcome respite from the chaos that had become my life.

"I've completed the initial perimeter check. You have a robust security system, but there are some blind spots we need to address."

As if on cue, the shrill ring of my personal phone shattered the calm atmosphere. With a sigh, I glanced at the caller ID—unknown number. Again. I braced myself and answered, "This is Raven."

Jerome watched, his gaze sharp and assessing as he stood in the doorway.

"Hello, pretty bird," the distorted voice cooed, sending a chill down my spine. "You look ravishing in that silk blouse. Powder blue, isn't it? And those lace-trimmed ivory panties—delicate, just like you."

My breath hitched, composure faltering. The caller knew what I was wearing. How? My eyes darted to the windows, then to Jerome, whose expression morphed into one of deep concern.

"Who is this?"

"Shhh..." the voice whispered before the line went dead.

Jerome stepped forward. "Was it another call?"

"Describing my clothes, Jerome." My hands trembled as I set down the phone. "Down to my underwear."

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, the stoic shield cracked, revealing a flash of anger. "This is serious. Your stalker has eyes on you, possibly inside the house. We need to act now."

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn't a prank or a misguided fan. It was someone watching my every move. The walls around me felt like they were closing in, and suddenly, the mansion didn't seem so luxurious—it felt like a gilded cage.