Chapter 65 THE NEIGHBOUR NEXT DOOR

Chapter 65 THE NEIGHBOUR NEXT DOOR
The next morning, I woke up feeling like a literal fire was lit under me. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or just the fact that I finally felt like I had a future worth building, but my brain was moving at a hundred miles an hour. I wasn’t just Althea the wife or Althea the Simmons daughter anymore. I wanted to be Althea the Mogul.
Rowan was in the walk-in closet, buttoning up his shirt for work, when I bounced in, already half-dressed in a silk robe.
"Rowan, I had a thought," I said, my voice peaking with excitement. "Actually, I had ten thoughts. Listen. Wedding dresses. But not just any dresses—custom, high-fashion pieces for girls who want that Simmons vibe without the Simmons price tag. We can call it 'The Althea Collection.'"
Rowan chuckled, adjusting his tie in the mirror. "That sounds amazing, babe. You’ve always had the best taste."
"Wait, I’m not done!" I followed him back into the bedroom, pacing the floor. "And luxurious hair. Like, the highest quality raw bundles. People spend thousands on hair, Rowan. We could dominate that market. And footwear! I want to design heels that don't actually kill your feet. And makeup! A full line. Highlighters that make you look like you’re glowing from the inside out."
I kept going, listing job after job, business after business. I wanted to do it all. I wanted to sell everything from luxury lashes to designer baby strollers. I was talking so fast I barely had time to breathe.
Rowan stopped what he was doing and turned to me, a soft, amused smile on his face. He walked over and took my hands, pulling me close to him.
"Baby," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Those are all amazing ideas. Seriously. You’re a genius. But for now? Don’t stress yourself out. You’re literally growing a human being right now. I will provide everything you need. I want you to just relax. Watch some TV, stay home, and live your life exactly how you want. You don’t have to work a day in your life if you don’t want to."
I pulled back a little, giving him a look. "Rowan, that is literally how people get fat and bored. I’m not just going to sit at home all day long like a trophy wife. I want to go out! I want to do important things. I want my own name on a building."
Rowan laughed and gave me a massive, bone-crushing hug. He kissed the top of my head and grabbed his briefcase. "We can talk about the logistics later. For now, just try to take it easy, okay? For me? And for the little dot?"
He headed toward the door, waving over his shoulder.
"I'm serious, Rowan!" I yelled after him as he walked down the hallway. "I am going to sell the luxurious hair! And I’m going to open a massive shop for it! It’s going to be the biggest boutique in the city!"
My voice echoed through the house. I was so hyped up, so sure of myself. But looking back? I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have put my plans out into the universe like that. Because the thing about being at the top is that you never know who is listening. You never know who is standing in the shadows, ready to jinx your plans before they even start.
Words have power, and I was throwing mine around like they couldn't be used against me.

A few hours after Rowan left, I was sitting by the large bay window in the living room, sipping on some ginger tea and looking at floor plans for my dream hair boutique on my laptop. I was already scouting locations in the fashion district.
That’s when I noticed a massive moving truck pulling into the driveway of the estate next door.
Our neighborhood is exclusive. Like, "you need a background check just to visit" exclusive. The house next to ours had been empty for a few months, and I was honestly enjoying the privacy. I closed my laptop and peeked through the sheer curtains.
A family was moving in.
I saw a man step out of a black SUV first. He was tall, built, and wearing a crisp military uniform. He looked intense, like the kind of guy who doesn't laugh at jokes. He stood by the gate, looking around the property with a sharp, scanning gaze. Probably a high-ranking officer, I thought.
Then, the passenger door opened.
A woman stepped out, and I actually paused. She looked really young—maybe even a few years younger than me. She had long, dark hair and was wearing a simple, elegant dress that looked like it cost a fortune but was trying not to show it. She looked soft, kind, and honestly, really pretty.
She stood next to the man, and he put an arm around her. They looked like the perfect, "all-American" power couple.
It’ll be fun to have a new neighbor, I thought to myself, leaning my chin on my hand. She looks nice. Maybe we can actually be friends. It would be good to have someone my age nearby who isn't trying to sell me a fake identity or swap my baby.
I watched her for a moment as she directed the movers. She seemed polite, smiling at them and pointing toward the front door. She looked so innocent, so normal.
"Oh well," I muttered, turning back to my tea. "I don't really care that much. As long as they aren't loud, we’re good."
I went back to my laptop, scrolling through different types of HD lace and luxury bundles. I was so focused on my "Hair Empire" that I didn't give the neighbors another thought.
I truly believed that my biggest problem that day was deciding between Brazilian or Cambodian hair for my launch. I didn't know that the woman standing in the driveway next door was about to become the center of a storm I wasn't prepared for.
I thought she was just a nice girl moving into a big house. I didn't know that her moving into this town would be the worst thing to ever happen to me.

As the afternoon went on, a weird vibe started to settle over the house. You know that feeling when you're being watched, but you know you’re alone? It was like that.
I tried to shake it off. I told myself it was just the pregnancy hormones making me paranoid. I walked to the kitchen to get a snack, but as I passed the window again, I saw the young woman standing on her balcony.
She was looking straight at our house.
She wasn't moving. She didn't have a phone in her hand. She was just... staring. Her expression was blank, but there was something about the way she was standing that made my skin crawl. It wasn't the "friendly neighbor" look I had seen earlier.
The second she saw me looking, she instantly transformed. She waved a hand and gave me a huge, bright smile—the kind of smile that looks perfect in photos but feels a little too wide in person.
I gave a stiff, polite wave back and quickly pulled the curtains shut.
Okay, Althea, relax, I told myself. She’s just being friendly. She’s new. She’s probably just admiring the architecture. Don't be a weirdo.
But the feeling wouldn't go away. I sat back down on the couch, but I couldn't focus on my business plans anymore. My mind kept drifting back to the man in the uniform and the young girl with the perfect smile.
Who were they? Why move here now?
I picked up my phone and texted Rowan.
Althea: New neighbors moved in today. A military guy and his wife. She looks super young. Kind of a weird vibe, or maybe I’m just being extra.
Rowan replied a few minutes later.
Rowan: Probably just extra, babe lol. Military families are usually super quiet and respectful. You’ll love having the peace. Focus on your hair plans! I want to see those mood boards tonight! Love you.
I stared at the text and tried to breathe. Rowan was right. I was being extra. I had been through so much drama lately that I was looking for monsters under the bed where there were none.
I spent the rest of the evening trying to ignore the sound of the moving truck next door. I tried to ignore the way the woman’s laughter carried over the fence—a high, melodic sound that felt a little too practiced.
I went to sleep that night dreaming of silk bundles and luxury storefronts. I dreamed of success and a quiet life with my baby.
I didn't know that while I was dreaming, the woman next door was sitting in her dark living room, looking at a folder full of photos.
Photos of me.
Photos of Rowan.
And a very detailed map of our home.