Chapter 64

Chapter 64
Chapter 64
LUCAS
"No, no, no." I was dialing Jose before I'd consciously decided to, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone.

"Lucas?" Jose answered on the second ring. "What's wrong? You sound—"

"I need you to check on Sofia Lang. Right now. Immediately." The words came out harsh, desperate. "Someone's threatening her. Watching her. I think they might be at her apartment right now."

"Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Someone sent me photos. Of Sofia. At her apartment, at the office, everywhere. They're threatening to hurt her. Jose, I think she's in danger right now."

There was a pause, then Jose's voice came back sharp and focused. "I'm on it. What's her address?"

I rattled it off from memory, already pulling up security company contacts on my computer. "I'm calling private security too. But Jose, if something happens to her—"

"Nothing's going to happen to her. I'm ten minutes away. I'll call you when I get there."

He hung up, and I immediately dialed the security firm I kept on retainer. They answered within seconds.

"This is Lucas Davenport. I need a team dispatched immediately to this address." I gave them Sofia's location. "There's a credible threat to the resident. I need eyes on the apartment now."

"We can have a team there in fifteen minutes, Mr. Davenport."

"Make it ten. And call me the second they arrive."

I ended the call and returned to the texts, my stomach churning as I scrolled through the images again. There had to be something here, some clue about who was doing this or why.

The photos spanned weeks. Some were recent, but others looked older—Sofia at the Queens apartment before I'd moved her, Sofia walking bridges at night in that white dress.

My blood ran cold.

They'd been watching her before I found her. Before I gave her the job and the new apartment. Whoever this was, they'd been stalking Sofia since—

Since the night she saved my mother.

The realization hit like a freight train. This wasn't random. This wasn't some opportunistic psychopath who'd noticed Sofia and decided to target her.

This was someone who knew. Who'd known about that night on the bridge. Who'd been watching her specifically because of her connection to my family.

Another text: You moved her to a nicer apartment. How generous. But you can't protect her, Lucas. Not really. She's too vulnerable. Too broken. Too easy to hurt.

"Who the fuck are you?" I typed back, my hands shaking with rage and fear.

The response came immediately: Someone who sees what you don't. Someone who knows what she really is. Did she tell you why she was on that bridge, Lucas? Did she explain what she was running from?

I stared at the message, my mind racing. The stalker knew about the bridge. Knew Sofia had been there that night. But how?

Unless...

Unless they'd been there too.

My office door opened, and Sophia stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. "Adam's asking for you. He wants to show you his room."

"I can't right now." The words came out harsher than I'd intended. "Sophia, I'm sorry, but this really is urgent—"

"It's always urgent." Her voice was quiet, resigned. "Work is always more important."

"It's not work—" I stopped, realizing I couldn't explain without revealing everything. Without telling her about Sofia, about the threats, about my desperation to keep someone safe even though it meant failing to be present for our son.

Our son. Who'd just come home from the hospital. Who needed me to be there, to be present, to be the father I'd promised to be.

But Sofia was in danger. Real, immediate, life-threatening danger.

"I'll be up as soon as I can," I said, knowing it was inadequate. "Tell Adam I'm sorry. Tell him—"

"I'll tell him Papa had to work." Sophia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "He'll understand. He's getting used to adults breaking their promises."

The words hit like a slap. Before I could respond, she'd closed the door, leaving me alone with my phone and my guilt and the growing certainty that I was failing everyone who mattered.

My phone rang. Jose.

"I'm at Sofia's building," he said without preamble. "Her door is locked, no signs of forced entry. I'm going to knock, see if she answers."

"Be careful—"

"I'm always careful. Hold on." I heard knocking, then Jose's muffled voice calling Sofia's name. A long pause. More knocking. "She's not answering. The super is letting me in."

I waited, my heart hammering, while I heard sounds of a door opening, Jose calling out, footsteps.

"She's not here," Jose said finally. "Apartment's empty. No signs of struggle, but her phone is on the kitchen counter. Lucas, where the hell is she?"

Before I could answer, another text came through. A video this time.

I pressed play with shaking hands.

The footage was grainy, clearly from a phone camera, but the subject was unmistakable. Sofia, walking into an office building. Not our building—somewhere else. She looked nervous, glancing around like she knew she was being watched.

The timestamp showed today. Less than an hour ago.

Looking for answers in all the wrong places, the accompanying text read. She's not who you think she is, Lucas. None of this is what you think it is.

"Jose, did you find anything in her apartment? Anything that might tell us where she went?"

"There's a calendar on her fridge. Looks like she had an appointment this afternoon. Some medical office on the Upper East Side."

Medical office. Maybe just a routine check-up. Maybe nothing.

But the video suggested otherwise.

"Send me the address," I said. "And Jose—"

"I know. I'm already on my way there."

The security team called to confirm they'd arrived at Sofia's apartment and found it secure but empty. I gave them instructions to wait, to watch the building, to call me the moment Sofia returned.

Then I sat in my office, surrounded by evidence of someone's obsession with a woman I barely knew, and tried to figure out what the hell was happening.

Sofia had saved my mother's life. I'd found her, given her a job, tried to help her rebuild. That should have been the end of it. Simple gratitude, simple assistance.

But someone out there didn't think it was simple. Someone thought Sofia was s
ignificant enough to stalk. To threaten. To use as leverage against me.

Would it hurt you if we killed her?