Her Immortal Husband

"It is confirmed, my lord. What should we do with the girl?" A wrinkled doctor in a white coat bows before his boss, Harold, who emanates a cold and powerful aura that commands respect. Many tremble at the sight of him, but the doctor is one of the few people who can stand that devilish stare without withering "Bring her to me!" The doctor takes a deep breath, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words without offending Harold. "My lord," the girl lives with her mother, who is likely to protest the idea of her child being taken away from her. We have to find a better way to go about this." Harold says nothing for a moment, burying his hands in his pockets and beginning to pace. "But are you one hundred percent sure she has it?" Harold asks. Every word he utters sounds like a warning, and only those who have known him since he was a child manage to keep their cool in his presence. "I don't want any mistakes, now of all times." "I did the test five times over. She has it all." Harold stares at the doctor, and it feels as though he is staring right through his soul. Then he barks a command. "Fetch Joseph!" "Yes, my lord." The doctor leaves the room, a smile splitting his face as soon as he is out of Harold's sight. Joseph, Harold's assistant, appears in the room quietly. "You called for me, my lord." Harold turns swiftly to face him. "Find out what it takes for that mother to hand over her kid. Does she want money? Her own house? You are going to accept any requests she makes. Go there now and be quick!" Joseph leaves as quietly as he came, leaving Harold to pacing his office. He has never understood how human emotions work, but he knows they grow too attached to their young. From what he has observed of humans so far, he knows the doctor was right when he said that the child's mother won't be willing to hand over her child without a fuss. Joseph is efficient in his work, and he is back in the office less than an hour later. "Any positive news? Because if there is none, I am going to strangle you." Joseph swallows, facing the floor. "She is willing to give you the child on the condition that you pay her five thousand dollars every month," he reports. Harold nods his head. "Where is the child, then?" It is nervous business standing in Harold's presence when he is this prickly. "She told me we can't take her now. We have to wait until she comes of age. She is only six. We can't do much with a six-year-old kid." "Of course we can. I am going to claim her as my own tonight. That way, I won't have to worry about anyone else claiming her." Joseph is horrified at this, but he has long since trained himself not to show emotion in front of people. An entire life of working for Harold does that to someone. "My lord, she is only six!" he reminds Harold. "And I don't see why that should stop me from claiming her. We leave tonight. I moved here because of her and I won't let anything get in the way of my plans!" Joseph has no choice but to nod his head in agreement. "Tonight it is, then." Harold makes good of his word by traveling to the small town where the little girl lives. Becky, the little girl that has the answer to his immediate problem. They get out of the car and Harold looks around the neighborhood Becky lives in, his face expressionless, but Joseph knows exactly what he is thinking. In the human world, some people lead better lives than others, and it so happens that Becky is one of those at the bottom. The house she lives in tells it all; a tiny shanty with the paint peeling off the walls. Harold and his men look around the place, their vehicles and outfits a striking contrast to the dirty little town. "The entrance is this way, my lord," Joseph says, leading the way. As though sensing their presence, the woman opens the door immediately the men stand outside. Her eyes widen in surprise as she recognizes Joseph. She looks behind her, as though checking if her daughter is within hearing distance, and then she whispers harshly. "What are you doing here? I thought we made an agreement. You can't have her now!" Joseph raises his palm in a gesture of peace. "We are not taking her away. The Lord wants to see her." The woman frowns, her thick dark brows lowering over her eyes. "The lord?" She throws a glance in Harold's direction, and she gulps as she meets his gaze. She, like everyone else, is terrified of him. Wondering how he came to be a 'lord' in this country, she steps out of the way to allow them entry. "Don't scare her. She was just preparing to go to bed." The men say nothing as they enter the tiny living room, waiting impatiently as the woman calls Becky's name. Immediately she appears, Harold knows she is the one, and a rare smile graces his handsome face. Becky walks hesitantly into the living room, her long dark hair braided into two ponytails. She looks so adorable that no person would ever dream of hurting her, but she remembers someone touching her forehead before she falls asleep, and having vivid dreams about someone torturing her by placing something hot on her neck. And then the deep voice of a grown man whispering in her ear. "I am not going to bother you for a long time now, but when I do, I want you to remember me, Becky. Bear my mark." And then everything goes quiet. In the chilly night outside, Harold and his two men get into their vehicles and drive away, going back to the Clintons Mansion. Just after they leave the small town, a couple that was hiding in the shadows step out of their car, heading for Becky's house.