Chapter 3
We did not go home that night.
David wanted to.
He said we could lock the doors.
Set the alarm.
Wait for morning.
But I looked at the photo again and felt my skin tighten.
Someone had been watching us from inside Bellmont.
Someone had known Tiffany was coming.
Someone had wanted us afraid.
“No,” I said. “We’re going to the police station.”
David did not argue.
At the station, Detective Maria Alvarez read the message three times.
Her expression did not change, but her pen stopped moving.
“You know anyone connected to Tiffany?” she asked.
“Her friends,” David said. “Maybe her mother. A few coworkers.”
“Anyone who blamed Claire?”
He looked at me.
I knew the answer before he said it.
“Marissa.”
Tiffany’s older sister.
I had never met her in person.
But I knew her name from voicemails.
You destroyed my sister.
You think you can take someone’s soulmate and sleep peacefully?
Girls like you always pay.
Detective Alvarez wrote it down.
“Send me everything.”
“We have months of messages,” I said.
“Good.”
My phone buzzed then.
Unknown number.
A video appeared.
My stomach turned before I pressed play.
It showed my apartment hallway from two months earlier.
Me walking to my door with groceries.
Tiffany standing in the stairwell shadows.
Watching.
The camera zoomed in on my face.
Then the video cut to black.
A text followed.
She had every right to confront you.
David swore under his breath.
Detective Alvarez leaned forward.
“Claire, have you noticed anyone else following you?”
I thought of a blue sedan near my office.
A woman in sunglasses at the coffee shop.
A delivery driver who waited too long at the curb.
At the time, I had told myself I was paranoid.
Now I was not so sure.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Maybe.”
David closed his eyes.
“I should have pushed harder.”
“You did,” I said.
“No. I tried to make it quiet. I thought if I didn’t provoke her, she’d stop.”
Detective Alvarez’s voice softened.
“Stalkers often escalate when boundaries become real.”
The word landed heavy.
Stalker.
Not heartbroken ex.
Not dramatic woman.
Not jealous girl.
Stalker.
At two in the morning, David’s attorney arrived.
His name was Nathan Bell.
Calm.
Precise.
The kind of man who made panic feel inefficient.
He reviewed the restraining order and frowned.
“She violated this four times?”
“Reported four times,” David said. “More happened.”
Nathan looked at me.
“And you were never listed as a protected party?”
I shook my head.
“They said the order was between them.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“That changes tomorrow.”
He turned to Detective Alvarez.
“We need the restaurant footage preserved immediately.”
“Already requested,” she said.
“I want the guest list too.”
The detective looked up.
“Guest list?”
“Bellmont requires reservations. Someone inside sent that photo.”
By sunrise, we checked into a hotel under Nathan’s name.
David sat on the edge of the bed, still in his suit.
The velvet box rested on the nightstand.
Neither of us touched it.
“I was going to give you a necklace,” he said.
I looked at him.
“My grandmother’s. Not an engagement ring. I didn’t want to scare you.”
I laughed, but it broke halfway.
He reached for me.
I let him hold me.
For three seconds, I felt safe.
Then my phone buzzed again.
This time the message came from my own number.
A photo of my living room.
Taken from inside my apartment.
May you like
The caption said:
Nice place. Shame if she came back.
