Hello, My Beautiful: My Beautiful Series, #1

By Lauren Ritchie

A steady job she loves soon becomes routine. Mariana struggles to find an enthusiasm that once gave her meaning, so she turns to create a website for her favorite real-life role model, an inspiration to Hollywood and the art world, Nathaniel Kilpatrick. Little does she know her life is about to change when Mr. Kilpatrick stumbles upon this artistic devotion to him. All her hard work is about to reward her with an opportunity of a lifetime. Soon, this unexpected chance will unleash a pure hell of retaliation that will put her through a test.

 

Mariana's boss, Dean Newberry, gets wind of this venture and becomes hostile and abusive towards her. He kidnaps, tortures, and stalks her. Can Mariana escape his aggressive behavior, his need for revenge he has long withheld inside him? Will Mariana's fear paralyze into inaction?

 

Until Nathaniel meets with the page's creator, he'll never know the extent of her humanity. Soon, he learns something important about the special young lady bringing meaning to his life. She inspires him to do something only a loving father and a kindhearted human would ever think to do. Will Nathaniel rise to the challenge to his humanity? Will he step up and share his fatherly love with an abused woman?

 

Will Mariana find love and overcome her fear? Will it wipe away the paralyzing fear she feels when around men? Will the justice system prevail and bring Dean to trial for his crimes?

 

Come along on a journey as Mariana discovers an inner warrior at work to give her the courage to fight the abuse and battle the rough times as she questions her self-worth.

 

Content Warning: Material contains abuse, kidnapping, torture, and stalkish behavior.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Ritchie
• Release date: Oct 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215502440

Book preview

Prologue

It was seasonably mild weather the last few days in February in Silas, Missouri. Mariana sat in front of her laptop. The crackling of thunder overhead, the pelting of raindrops tapped on top of the roof and the quick and bright flashes of lightning from the nearest kitchen window aroused her attention.

The faint screeching of sirens prompted her to walk to the front door of her living room. She pulled open the sheers from the window, peering left to right; the sirens growing closer. In a flash, one police car followed by several others and an ambulance sped past her house.

She smoothed her long, thin fingers over her arms as if to warm her skin and blood. Goosebumps erupted, warning her of potential danger. A shiver ran down her spine as her mind whirled with the possibilities.

It is a shame first responders must go out in weather like this to attend to the needs of the community in such a frightful storm. I dread storms like this. Mariana’s thoughts drew up the long-ago memory. A stormy night just like this one, rain coming down in sheets when she found out about her mother’s death. The disturbing news was that her aunt and father kept it from her. It was a day like this she also learned of her father’s withdrawal.

Standing next to her chair deciding whether to sit in front of her computer or walk-up the stairs once again to her bedroom, she combed her hair with her fingertips, rubbing her face with both hands, a sudden thought, and the interest to reread the aged letter inspired her to set aside her work.

Hesitantly, Mariana approached her bedroom with one step to the second level, hesitant but determined to make it down the hall, strolling into the yellow floral-patterned room, skirting around the bed and into the narrow closet. Reaching up, her right hand grasped for a red rose-designed box. Unsealing the lid, a plain white envelope inscribed in bold cobalt blue ink rested on top.

Her fingers gripped the edges when she gasped as anger, then an unknown fear, skittered down her spine. A tremble formed in her fingers as Mariana scooped it from the other memorabilia placed inside. The open box returned to the closet shelf; she spotted the lid next to her bare foot moments before she stepped on it. Ugh, that was close, she mumbled, picking up the misplaced lid and tossing it on top of the box.

Stepping outside the closet, sitting on the end of her bed, the young woman spent a few moments eyeing the penmanship of her Aunt Nadine.

The booming of thunder continued to echo outside, increasing Mariana’s anxiety. Suddenly, sadness engulfed Mariana, causing her nose to run and her eyes to moisten at the corners. A sense of doom swamped her. Fear of a future filled with the unknown caused her fingers to shake, barely keeping hold of the loose papers. A full body shiver helped to release the fear as she refocused on the precious letter.

This is the only piece of the past I have left. I miss my mother dearly. Why did Aunt Nadine wait so long to tell me about her death and the fact my father wanted to ease his own burdens? He didn’t have to distance himself from me. She wailed for her lost life.

Pressing open the pages, using her palms to gently flatten the lined paper, Mariana remembered vividly a Sunday like the present day. Storms formed as she read the letter addressed and sent to her six months after starting work for American Flag Insurance as a licensed sales agent. It read:

Dear Mariana-

Hopefully, this letter has reached you. I don’t know how to say, ‘I am sorry.’ My only regret is waiting years after the accident to tell you about your mother, Agatha. It is painful to think of as I write these words to you.

Agatha and Woodward Richland loved you very much. They were cheerful souls with joy bundled in a pink cloth. You brightened their lives and made them grateful. Woodward thought of you as his newest soldier, another girl in his life he could deeply love. He was a proud man, serving his country with honor and duty.

Your mother sent me a letter when you were thirteen to ask if you could come here and live with your Uncle Charles and me. I was reluctant at first, but I knew if anyone, I could raise you properly and continue with your parents’ wishes that you be provided for and continue going to school.

They were separating as she was finishing nursing school and preparing herself to return to the workforce. It was also a way for her to gain an independence for herself. She knew sending you to us would give her a greater peace of mind as your father’s tours of duty increased.

When you were fifteen and away at school, a knock at the back door startled me one morning. I opened the screen door to find Woodward standing there. His face told me it wasn’t a social call.

He removed his hat as he stepped inside. I offered him a seat at the breakfast table, pouring two cups of coffee. Cradling my hands around the mug, I looked into his dark eyes. The corners wrinkled with pain; his face worn. It was as if he had aged ten years.

I lightly tapped on the wood to draw his attention to me. Without warning, he unbuttoned the left pocket of his khaki uniform shirt and handed me a folded note.

The sheet of paper notified him of Agatha’s death. Initially, I was confused about what I read. Surely this wasn’t the same woman.

I looked up once more. Tears were streaming down his face. I asked, ‘when did this happen?’ He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know exactly when.

‘Oh, I am sorry, dear. This will devastate Mariana.’ Then I asked another question. ‘How did she die?’

He spoke in a low, faraway tone. ‘Someone stabbed her on the night shift in the psyche ward of the community hospital. A staff member found her slumped behind the door; her white nursing uniform colored in large splotches of blood. Her eyes were open. Whomever attacked her must have surprised her. The staff member, I am told, found the metal scissors next to her. The theory is she was making rounds, and a patient escaped their room, found the scissors, thinking she was someone they were after and stabbed her.’

‘Have mercy Woodward, what a horrific thing to happen. What should I tell Mariana? She will be home later this afternoon.’ I asked him.

He held his left hand up at me, sniffling, ‘I don’t want you to tell her anything. They haven’t completed the autopsy of her body yet. I should have a full report when I return.’

I knew you would want to know and so I tried to convince him to let me tell you. He kept telling me ‘NO.’

‘Woodward, your daughter should know that something has happened to her mother. She is entitled to this information and to grieve in her own time for Agatha.’ I pressed him.

‘I am her father and right now she is better off not knowing about this. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but I am struggling with the knowledge of her death myself, and that girl needs to grow up as normal as possible.’ He stressed.

‘Alright, but one day she’s going to know, anyway. Now, something else is bothering you. What is it?’ I asked him.

He said they had diagnosed him with Severe Battle Fatigue Syndrome, and they ordered him to seek professional help to cope with it so he could keep his military status and rank.

Agatha’s death took a toll on your father. He missed her dearly and blamed himself for their failing marriage and the fact he couldn’t be home more. During this turn of events, he was training several groups of men in a series of battlefield exercises. He said to me before he left, he was going to distance himself from you. Whenever he wanted to see you, it would be a reminder of your mother and the horrid memory of her death. He wasn’t sure if he would ever recover from the damage of the military and her murder.

Perhaps one day he will change his mind and come around. Whatever you do, don’t get excited that this much-needed reunion shall ever happen.

Woodward promised to send me details of the autopsy, but I never received it. He wrote to me when he returned from leave, saying he would send money for you now and again to help with essentials and your needs.

While you were upstairs doing your homework that evening, I sat down with Uncle Charles. He couldn’t say much, but he thought it too was best we didn’t tell you.

I wish you great happiness and a healthy life. I hope you find healing.

Sincerely,

Aunt Nadine

Bawling, the wounds of years past opened. The anguish of reading over the letter again caused her to ball up the piece of paper and fling it across the room.

She should have told me anyway, despite what my father said. He wouldn’t have been around to know the difference and my uncle let my aunt do everything. He only spoke when it was necessary, never going against my aunt. Why?!

Her hands covered her face while she continued to sob, I miss you so much mom, you will never be able to see me get married, have children, know what I aspire to in life or my career. Dad, I just don’t think you want me anymore. I am not something you can throw away. I am human with genuine feelings. Don’t abandon me just because you can’t handle it, she cried as her heart broke all over again.

Blubbering as she stumbled downstairs, picking up her teacup, she trudged into the kitchen. Mariana acknowledged in the few minutes after reading the letter, she would never have her parents embrace her as they once did. If no one in my family wants me, then I will return to my love of art and pull up the newest of Nathaniel Kilpatrick’s paintings, and research his life more.

Replenishing her mug with a new decaffeinated Earl Greyline tea bag, she thought, I know what I can do. I have always wanted to do something creative using computers, so I will create a fan page in Mr. Kilpatrick’s honor. His artwork has always pulled me in, and I admire him very much. This is how I will honor his artistry and life legacy. This will be my dedication to him as the man he is, the devoted father, husband, and most respected painter.

What she didn’t know was that this simple decision was going to change her entire life.

Chapter One

Throughout the early hours of Monday morning, the weighty cascade of rain falling from the sky transitioned into a gentle rain shower. Mariana’s alarm sounded at 7:30 in the morning. A complete eight hours a night should have made her feel well-rested, yet no matter how much she slept, a wave of sleepiness swept over her. Life as she knew it had become a never-ending cycle which did not help her feel complete; feel whole inside herself and in her life. Stretching her arms, her vision sluggishly struggled to clear as she walked the three steps to see the gloomy view outside.

Oh, I am so tired, she yawned. Another overcast day ahead, she woefully noted to herself.

***

Mariana could hear faint trickling striking the single-story red brick building overhead. She tracked the miniscule raindrops trailing on the outside of the American Flag Insurance windows.

Reflecting on the day ahead, she organized her handbag and lunch box in a large bottom drawer before turning on her work computer. Her eyes drifted over her desk calendar, preparing for the day’s tasks. Mariana embraced creative projects after these long and difficult days as they eased the tension during light rain showers.

During the last few months, she worked meticulously to create a fan page dedicated to Nathaniel Kilpatrick, her favorite painter. Proud of being the daughter of a prominent four-star Army General, she recalled memories of his dedication to the service of his country, if not to herself. Often, his assignments sent him on secret military missions, requiring the family to rely on fond pastimes of him. The way Mr. Kilpatrick portrayed the people in his paintings reminded her of her father, at least the father he used to be before her mother was murdered, and he withdrew into himself and the army.

The more Mariana worked on the fan page, the more she began seeing Nathaniel as a surrogate father figure. Whenever she saw Mr. Kilpatrick’s paintings of foreign wars and military actions, it saddened her to view them, forcing her into tears. These insights into his glimpses of harsh reality allowed her to make a connection and form a bond unlike the one she could not keep with her own father. It inspired a sense of zest, delight as she started searching online articles and biographies throughout her journey.

The manager and Mariana’s boss, Dean Newberry, issued her extra duties and new clients unexpectedly applying pressure to her work efficiency. What had she done to draw his ire? He tested her patience and abilities as the tension mounted, stressing her to the point of anger under his expectations that she excel. Each night behind her personal computer, she released those frustrations by working through the fan page, finding an inner peace and calm.

Striking the buttons on her keyboard one evening, she guided her cursor to the inbox of her email. There, appearing in bold faced print, the message at the top titled, ‘About the Life and Legacy of Nathaniel Kilpatrick,’ caught her attention, raising her eyebrows in wonderment. She smiled and thought, I wonder what this is about. Let’s open it and see.

A woman in the email introduced herself as Kathleen Kilpatrick. Gasping, Mariana nervously scrolled as she read the message. Immediately after reading the last line, she reread it.

Hello Mariana,

I would like to first introduce myself. My name is Kathleen Kilpatrick. I write these words on behalf of my father, Nathaniel. He discovered your page in a search he conducted online, and was enlightened by its highly creative content. Feeling endeared, he shared the page with me in deep appreciation of how much he enjoyed your work. He values the way you honored him. He asked me to pass along to you his ‘great thanks,’ as do I.

Sincerely,

Kathleen

She knew Kathleen was Nathaniel Kilpatrick’s daughter from viewing photographs of Nathaniel and Kathleen together on the internet. Mariana held Kathleen’s email dear. It meant a lot to her to have someone appreciate her work. Unlike her boss, Mariana thought. Feeling the email didn’t warrant a response, she kept it in her saved files to pull up in the future and reread when she needed a pick-me-up.

Kathleen again wrote Mariana a few weeks later. The email’s headline this time read, ‘Creator Meet and Greet/Travel Arrangements.’

Hello Mariana,

It is Kathleen. I am writing to you at the insistence of my father. He has decided he would like to meet you in person and hear more about your online project and would like to invite you to a meet and greet with him.

He has consulted me about the idea of you visiting and wants to know how you feel about meeting him at his home? Please take any time you need to think the idea over. If you agree, reply to this email with your name and address. Nathaniel will fly you out at a time which is most convenient for you.

He insists you stay in the guest house on the property while you and my father become well acquainted with one another during your stay.

I look forward to your reply.

Sincerely,

Kathleen

Upon reading the message, her eyes widened, unable in the moment to believe what she read, scanning each word to confirm. What! No way! She screeched. This can’t be. She huffed, shocked at the generosity of a complete stranger.

Mariana rushed a reply to Kathleen. An alert sounded from her computer with her immediate response. Noting the paperclip symbol, she tapped it open with her mouse. A pop-up window displayed a confirmation by Nathaniel Kilpatrick himself, a coordinated flight for her.

***

Mariana’s heart fluttered in delight the next morning as she stood behind her desk, shuffling loose papers. She took a deep breath, peering behind her toward the door labeled DEAN NEWBERRY, MANAGER. Her smile faded, and she turned back toward her desk. Her chin dropped to her chest as she thought, I can’t go in there and face him. Mariana dreaded what would happen the moment she made her presence known. I know what he is going to say anyway, a big fat NO. I should just give up the idea and try again at another time. The knot of stress she lived with for some time took root and began forming. The sharp claw taking a firm hold inside her like the budding of weeds. Stomping her foot on the carpet and her fist giving a soft bang, she proclaimed, Mariana, you must do this, you must face your boss. Don’t allow him to treat you like a doormat! You are stronger than this. March to his door and ask him for that vacation. With conviction, she turned on her heels, deciding to keep a level head during the confrontation. She smoothed her black and white plaid slacks with her hands before making her way to his office.

Mariana stepped up to the partially closed door and gently raised her hand, knocking on its surface.

The persistence of her tapping caused Dean Newberry to ask from the other side in a gruff voice, Who is it?

Pushing the door wider, Mariana replied, Mr. Newberry? It is Mariana Richland.

Mariana observed an intense, dark expression as he tilted his head upward, annoyed. The feeling she had disturbed him skated down her spine. She noted he was making client benefit changes and updating work procedures, her visit interrupting his work. She felt uneasy stepping forward in front of his desk. Quickly, she noted a seventies earth toned, square padded chair encased in an oak wood frame, sat where he indicated her to sit. The designers hired to design the office decorated the entire office in a seventies style theme.

Standing up, Please have a seat, Ms. Richland. His arm motioned Mariana to be seated. Roughly, he asked her, What can I do for you, Ms. Richland?

Constructing her words before she spoke, attempting to control the tremble forming in her fingers, she replied, Umm, I wondered if I could talk to you about taking time off from work to travel.

Mariana noticed Dean's frown as he set down his pen, folding his hands together on the surface of his desk in front of him, asking, Why do you want to travel?

Sitting lady-like in her chair, ankles crossed, Mariana explained to Dean about the ‘Nathaniel Kilpatrick’ fan page she’d designed with diligence, naming the page itself, ‘The Life and Legacy of Nathaniel Kilpatrick’ and successfully publishing it to the web. She explained, the artist and his daughter, Kathleen, discovered the web page and contacted me. Mariana said, The daughter presented me with an opportunity to meet Nathaniel Kilpatrick.

Interrupting Mariana in a rude tone, he questioned, You want me to give you permission to take time away from work to travel to the State of California because you want to meet a painter concerning a fan page you created? Am I understanding you correctly?

Sighing, feeling a sense of defeat, she answered, Yes, Mr. Newberry, I do. First off, this man is my role model. Second, this page I created was for fun. It honors the man he represents to me, kind and caring. Stuttering, she continued, I never dreamed he would recognize the page, a-a-a-and would hate to miss this opportunity to talk to him.

Frustration caused Mariana’s hands to tremble and sweat to drip down her back. Determined to maintain her calm despite her boss’ obtrusive remarks, she sucked in a deep breath. Dean’s voice penetrated her breathing when he posed another question. She worried he wouldn’t give her permission to travel to California.

Dean folded his arms across his chest before he said, Alright, suppose I allow you to go. How long do you think you will be away?

Pausing for a second, Mariana said with confidence, Three weeks.

Three weeks!? he barked. I will have to think this over and give you a response tomorrow morning when you come in, he growled.

Mariana rose from her chair, feeling anxious, crossing her fingers behind her back. She had to think positive, but her thoughts replayed her boss’ unnerving manner at any reason to keep her out of his office and at her desk.

Walking back to resume her never ending duties, her mind berated her. How did I think asking him would make any difference? She wondered, feeling the dread of the situation still within her. He said he would think it over, but is he really going to approve my request? It is almost never worth it. It is as if I am just another body to him, no matter how hard I work or how well I perform. The realization caused her shoulders to drop and tears to form in her eyes.

Staring at her computer screen, she paused, wondering, is it just me or does he treat me differently than he does the rest of the people in this place? What have I ever done but put my best foot forward?

Scratching information on paper, Mariana became distracted bobbing the cap end of her ink pen against it. Her thoughts drifted back to the rare time she had ever known him to be kind, a different man, perhaps.

***

Everyone welcomed Mariana on her first day; she chuckled, a radiant smile on her face as a bright blue steel-eyed man named Dean Newberry stepped forward. He would be her boss.

Her first thoughts of him were good and pure, as he gave her confidence by telling her, ‘I know you will do well and become quite an asset to this agency.’

His words convinced her to relax and put trust in the process as he showed her to her workstation. He helped her learn how to use a computer, how to answer her calls and override codes, while senior associates stepped up to assist her in work tasks.

Within six months, she learned her tasks well, sometimes called upon to help her work mates. During those six months, Dean told everyone it impressed him how hard they worked, and she was becoming a star employee. On a Friday, he rewarded everyone’s efforts by closing the agency early and having a caterer come in to serve the staff. He even supplied alcohol so everyone could enjoy a hard liquor beverage.

Under the spell of his poison of choice, Mariana noticed how he eyed her in a sort of wonder, maybe regarding her status. She remembered he approached her, the smell of the woodsy liquor coming from his lips. She felt at ease with the small chatter, but it was at that point he stood close to her and manipulated her chin with his hand.

‘You are one gorgeous woman I would like to have,’ He slurred.

Unnerved by his comment and disgusted by his attitude, Mariana quickly realized he was clearly taking advantage of her good nature and innocence. It was unexpected, and to her, unprofessional.

She declined his attempt to get any more from her than hard work. ‘Thanks, but I don’t date any man who is my boss, or any working partner.’

His face instantly changed to one of disdain. With a sneer, he retorted, ‘I wasn’t talking about dating.’

An hour later, Dean made one more attempt to convince Mariana as she cleaned up scattered cups, plates, and hanging streamers. The two were alone in the office as everyone had gone home.

‘You do excellent work, Mariana. I bet you are even sweeter under the sheets.’

She frowned, and said, ‘I beg your pardon. I am not that kind of woman.’

Abusing his power and his strength, he pulled her closer to him. She smacked his hands. ‘Please let me go. I am not interested.’

He forced his lips onto hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth. ‘You are sweet. I like that.’

Mariana cracked him across his right cheek after she shoved him away. ‘I said I am not that way,’ she snapped, trying to contain her tears, not willing to show him any weakness.

Wanting to leave as soon as possible, she slung her bags over her shoulder. She ran out in hopes by Monday the situation would blow over. But no. The following Monday, Dean was talking to a senior associate when he turned toward her for a second. It was the change in his face, the blank look that confused her. His smile faded, finishing the conversation she was too far away to hear. He walked to his office door, where he paused. He shook his head disapprovingly, hands on his hip, turning around again toward her. ‘Ms. Richland, my office this second. I need to speak to you.’

Oh, this can’t be good, she thought.

The moment she stepped an inch through his door, he ordered, ‘Come in, Ms. Richland. Sit down.’

She declined the gesture, standing in front of him with her arms crossed. ‘What it is you want to talk to