Chapter 77 BLACKMAIL
Eclipse's Pov
I was at home going through some paperwork when my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. I opened it and felt my blood go cold.
There were photos attached—clear, unmistakable evidence. Photos of Medea entering my house late at night, her hood pulled low, timing precise. Photos of Derek leaving a few hours later, looking over his shoulder as he disappeared into the dark. The angles were deliberate, professional, taken from a distance that meant planning. My stomach tightened as the realization sank in. Someone had been watching us for a while, patient and careful, waiting for the right moment to reveal everything.
The message said "I know what you did. Pay me fifty thousand or these go public."
I sat there staring at my phone trying to figure out who could have sent this. Who would have been watching my house? Who knew about Derek?
I called the number back but it went straight to voicemail. No name. No identification.
I forwarded the photos to my tech guy and told him to trace where they came from. Then I called Derek.
"We need to talk. Now," I said when he answered.
"What's wrong?" Derek asked.
"Someone has photos of you and Medea. They're trying to blackmail me," I said.
There was silence on the other end.
"Derek? Are you still there?" I asked.
"Yeah I'm here. I don't know anything about photos," Derek said but his voice sounded weird.
“Really?” I said sharply, holding up the photos. “Because these were taken from across the street from my house.” I met his eyes, letting the implication settle. “Someone was watching. Someone who knew you were coming over and waited for the right moment to catch it on camera.” My voice hardened. “So don’t tell me this was random—someone planned this.”
"I swear it wasn't me. Why would I blackmail you when you're already paying me?" Derek said.
"Because you're a gambling addict who owes money to dangerous people. My guy told me all about your debts," I said.
"Okay fine. I have some debts. But I didn't take those photos and I'm not trying to blackmail you," Derek said.
"Then who did?" I asked.
“I don’t know,” Derek said, his voice tight with unease. “Maybe someone followed me.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “I’ve been careful—changed routes, watched my mirrors—but maybe not careful enough.” He glanced up at me, eyes flicking with nervous energy. “If someone was tracking my movements that closely, then this is bigger than I thought… and a lot more dangerous.”
"This is exactly what I was afraid of. You're a liability," I said.
"Come on Eclipse. I've been good. I haven't told anyone anything," Derek said.
"Until now. Until someone offered you money to talk," I said.
"Nobody offered me anything. I'm telling you it wasn't me," Derek said.
I hung up on him and called my tech guy back.
"Did you trace the number?" I asked.
"It's a burner phone. Purchased with cash. No way to trace who bought it," he said.
"What about the photos? Can you tell where they were taken from?" I asked.
“From across the street,” he said, studying the images closely. “Looks like whoever took them was either sitting in a car or using an empty building for cover.” He tapped one photo, frowning. “The angle suggests they were there for a while—waiting, watching, not just passing by. This wasn’t opportunistic. It was planned.”
"So someone has been watching my house. For how long?" I asked.
"Based on the different lighting in the photos I'd say at least a week. Maybe longer," he said.
I felt sick. Someone had been watching us for a week and we didn't even know it.
I needed to figure out who it was and fast. If those photos got out everything would fall apart.
I called Derek again.
"I'm giving you one chance to tell me the truth. Did you hire someone to take those photos so you could blackmail me?" I asked.
"No. I swear on my life I didn't do this," Derek said.
"Then you better figure out who did. Because if I find out you're lying to me you're going to wish you were never born," I said.
I hung up and immediately started going through my contacts, scrolling with purpose. I had people everywhere—guards, informants, favors owed in quiet corners. Someone must have seen something, heard something, noticed a car that didn’t belong or a face that lingered too long. I wasn’t willing to leave this to chance. If someone was watching us, then someone else had to know who they were, and I intended to find out before they made their next move.
Three hours later one of my informants called me back.
"I heard Derek was bragging at a bar about making easy money. Said he had dirt on someone important," the informant said.
"When was this?" I asked.
"Two nights ago. He was drunk and talking loud. A lot of people heard him," the informant said.
So it was Derek. The lying piece of trash. He took the photos himself or hired someone to do it and now he was trying to get more money out of me.
I responded to the blackmail message.
“I know it’s you, Derek. Nice try,” I said calmly, even as my pulse raced. “But I have something better than photos.” I held his gaze, letting the silence stretch. “I have evidence placing you at three different crime scenes—murders. All unsolved.” His face drained of color. “If you don’t back off right now, I send everything to the police. Every file, every timestamp, every witness statement. And you spend the rest of your life in prison wondering when it all went wrong.”
It was all fabricated of course. But Derek didn't know that. And he was stupid enough to believe it.
My phone rang within minutes. It was Derek and he sounded panicked.
"What are you talking about? I didn't kill anyone," Derek said.
"Doesn't matter. I have witnesses who will say they saw you. I have forensic evidence that links you to the scenes. You think the police are going to believe a gambling addict over me?" I asked.
"You're bluffing," Derek said but he didn't sound sure.
"Try me. Send those photos out and see what happens. I guarantee you'll be in handcuffs before the end of the day," I said.
"This is insane. I just needed some extra money. I wasn't going to actually send the photos," Derek said.
“But you took them,” I said coldly, the pieces finally locking into place. “You thought you could squeeze more money out of me.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You got greedy, Derek, and that was your biggest mistake. You weren’t careful—you got comfortable, and you forgot who you were dealing with. Now everything you thought you had leverage over is about to come crashing down on you.”
"Okay okay. I'm sorry. I'll delete everything. You'll never hear from me again," Derek said.
"You're right about that. You won't be around to bother anyone," I said and I hung up.
I immediately called the assassin I had on standby.
"It's time. I'm sending you his information now. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong," I said.
"Consider it done," the assassin said.
I sent over Derek's address and daily routine. Within twenty four hours he would be dead and this problem would be solved.
But I was still worried about the photos. Derek said he would delete them but what if he didn't? What if he sent them to someone as insurance?