“It’s a long shot, I know,” he began to question himself. “I could be wrong…”

Victor cut the man off. “Don’t do that to yourself. Never do that. Go with your gut. Always. Now tell me what you found.”

The officer nodded in agreement and appeared to take his words to heart. “I had his house searched again after you called the last time. I went there myself to assist and found several odd items, including some correspondence…”

“Show me.”

The detective led him back to a room filled with boxes, bags and envelopes of evidence. He took one look at the letters laid out on the table and knew it would be a long night.

Glancing over his shoulder at the man who just might have solved one of the biggest cases on the books, he reassured him. “Whatever happens here, whatever I find, I’ll make sure you get the credit you deserve.”

***

Emotionally exhausted, Elsa had immediately fallen asleep after her shower. Her dreams were filled with images of Nate’s sad eyes and Mr. Black’s angry eyes. She knew, even in her dream that he would make sure she would pay for having lied to Victor. His words kept gnawing at her, making her sleep restless. She woke several times and each time, there was an eerie sense of dread prickling under her skin. Something was off though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. He was still harboring more secrets and she was itching to know what he was hiding from her.

She rose from bed and walked in the dark to his office. To her surprise, the cameras were off. Was it intentional or a mistake on his part? She didn’t care. All it meant was that she had free rein of his house and she planned on taking full advantage of it.

She began sifting through the desk cabinets. Nothing of interest caught her eye until she opened the largest of the drawers and found the dreaded case file. He had kept it. She stared at it as all the words contained within it flooded her memory. All his Chapters and the torment he had put them through. She reached for it but stopped as panic coursed through her veins. Her eyes darted around the room nervously. It was too easy. Maybe this was a test. She heard her own rapidly beating heart in her ears but was unable to stop herself from picking up the manuscript. Just like before, she didn’t care what the consequences would be. With the twine removed, she fingered the cover page. Eyes closed, she held her breath and lifted the page fully expecting to see her name front and center. When she opened them, her heart sank.

Chapter 9 – Samantha, Age 36. Profession: Event Coordinator

She immediately diverted her eyes away from the document and concentrated on a spot on the wall as her eyes welled up with unshed tears. So there had been others after her. Of course there had been. Victor hadn’t changed. He never would. While she was going through the worst time of her life being mentally poked and prodded by psychotherapists, he was on the other end of the country mind fucking someone else.

She forced herself to flip past Chapter Nine. It would do her no good to know the details of his sexcapades with her. When she came to the end of the short chapter, she prepared herself for what came next – her chapter.

On the page that should’ve been her claim to fame in his fucked up game, read five simple words.

Chapter 8 – To be continued.

 

She heard herself curse under her breath. She would always be in the dark about how he felt about her. She would never get to read what it was he thought he had accomplished with her. He would never finish her damned chapter because he would never let it end. She tossed the document back in the bottom drawer, furious with herself for thinking that she would ever get to the bottom of things. It was his journal that she needed to get her hands on. That’s where all his secrets lay.

She glanced down underneath his desk at his messenger bag knowing he kept his most prized possession there. Promptly, she reached for it and began digging through it. When her fingers touched the thing she was looking for, her body stiffened.

Gently pulling it out, she ran the tip of her index finger over the worn leather. Did she really want to go down this path again? No, but the temptation was too much. As she sat it down on the desk, it fell open to a random entry.

What was written in black ink made her pulse skitter. These weren’t her notes, this was his personal diary.

Elsa had it backwards when she said Mr. Black was no one of importance when it’s me, Victor Laurenzo, that is no one of importance. Alone, I’m nothing. Just another man who’s had his heart broken like a million others. Just another asshole with an abusive past, taking out his hardships on innocent people. It’s a shitty fact and one I’m not proud of, but that’s the reality of my life. But with Mr. Black backing me up, I’m so much more than that. I’m stronger. Smarter. My senses sharper. Better equipped to deal with the never ending flow of bullshit that always seems to come my way. I can do anything without fear of consequences when he’s in my head. My past stays where it belongs when he’s in control. My emotions stay out of my decision making process.

She wants me to control him and to keep him leashed, but Mr. Black isn’t the kind of man who can be restrained. Not for long, anyway.

 

His words were like dagger blows straight through her heart. A dry sob burned in her throat, but she refused to allow it out. Why couldn’t he see past Mr. Black? How could he believe that he was nothing without him? Why couldn’t he see the real man that he was? A sudden awareness of being watched tingled in her body and her eyes flicked upward to find Victor standing at the threshold of the office door with a haunted look on his face.

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?” his jaw clenched. “You always want more.”

The betrayal he was feeling was written in his beautiful, pain-stricken eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her face at being caught red-handed.

“This is bullshit. All of this,” she pointed at the words in his journal. “You don’t need Mr. Black. You are important.”

“What the hell do you know?” he whispered.

“I know he doesn’t make you stronger, Victor; he makes you cruel and unreasonable.”

A wave of irritation suffused her senses when he strode toward her and tried to snatch his journal from her hands.

“Do you really believe this?” she held on tightly to the leather-bound notebook.

“I wrote it, didn’t I?” he tore it away from her angrily.

“The parts of your personality that you think are strong and smart are you, not Mr. Black,” she reached for it again, wanting to read more. He was quick and backed away from her, keeping a stronghold on his private thoughts.

“That’s right. I forgot. You’re a fucking psychologist now, aren’t you?” he growled.

“No, I’m not, and I never claimed to be, but Jesus Christ, Victor, anyone can see that you don’t’ suffer from split personality disorder. You are Victor. Only Victor. There is no Mr. Black. He’s nothing but a pawn you made up in your head so that you can exact revenge on innocent people to make up for what happened to you!” she stood and bellowed in his face. “Don’t blame your actions on Mr. Black. You are 100 percent liable no matter what’s happened in your life!”

Rage flashed in his eyes. “I know damned well I’m liable for my actions. And wasn’t it me who said all along that we were one and the same? Make up your fucking mind, Woman! Are we or aren’t we the same person!”

She froze in her spot as her mind raced with uncertainty. Yes, she had been the one to say that. She had believed it, too. But now… She shook her head. She didn’t know. It seemed when it came to Victor and Mr. Black, she didn’t know a Goddamn thing. “I’m confused,” she whispered.