Chapter 82 A Message in Red Ink
Inside the box, a single photograph was wrapped in black tissue paper.
It was the clear version of the grainy photograph that was on the blog, scribbled across the bottom in red marker in thick, angry strokes.
“Stay away from him. He’s mine and mine alone.”
The flashlight beam shook in my hand.
Lena gasped.
“Joan…” she whispered.
But I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what that meant and who would send something like that.
Different thoughts began to run through my head.
“Who could it be?”
“Should I report it to the police?”
“Should I keep this on a low first and take action if it happens again?”
“Should I just throw it away and act like I didn’t see anything?”
“Should I tell Dave about it?”
I stood there indecisive for a while, then I let out a sharp and long breath.
“Shouldn’t we report this to the police?” Lena asked.
“I don’t want unnecessary attention, Lena,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then what do you think we should do with this?” she asked, her eyes darting across the road then back to the box.
I put on my phone’s camera, and I knelt beside the box.
My hands trembled so badly that the phone camera wouldn’t focus at first.
“Should I…” Lena tried to take the phone from me, but I gently stopped her.
I took a deep breath again and placed the camera directly on the box, flashlight beam trembling across the crooked picture lying in it.
The red marker writing looked even angrier under the harsh white light.
I snapped three quick pictures, then one more of the box itself.
Lena squatted down beside me, her face pale.
“Joan… breathe,” she whispered.
“I’m breathing,” I muttered.
That was a very big lie. In fact, I was breathing at all. My chest felt like someone had placed something heavy on it to suppress it.
She reached for my wrist, gently but firmly, and lowered the phone.
“Put it down for a second and look at me,” she said, her eyes wide but steady.
I succumbed.
“You are okay,” she started slowly.
“We are okay. No one’s here… and whatever this is… It’s just paper and spite. Whoever did this is just trying to scare you,” she added.
I nodded, but it felt involuntary.
“I… I feel watched, Lena. They even know where I live,” I retorted, my voice breaking.
“We will deal with it,” she said, brushing dirt off her knees.
“But you need to tell Dave. Right now.”
I shook my head in disagreement almost immediately.
“No… not tonight.”
“Why the hell not?” her brows flared.
“Because he’s already dealing with the blog thing. I don’t want to dump this on him too. At least not yet,” I replied.
“Joan…” she wanted to talk but I cut in.
“You know for a second I thought…” I began and swallowed hard before I continued.
“I thought maybe he has someone else. Literally someone who doesn’t want me in the picture.”
“And?” Lena folded her arms.
“And then I remembered what Jane said,” I added, rubbing my shoulders against the sudden chill.
“She told me Dave doesn’t really date. Said he was hopelessly single until me. No messy breakups and definitely no crazy exes.”
“So…?”
“So maybe it’s just some obsessed fan. There are people like that who are obsessed with celebrities, billionaires, or anyone with a name. Maybe she thinks she owns him,” I explained.
“Even if it’s a fan, this is still creepy as hell… and dangerous,” Lena exhaled.
“I know,” my voice cracked.
“But I can’t go to him tonight with another crisis. He’s already trying to fix one. Let him fix the blog first. Then… maybe tomorrow or the next day, I will tell him.”
Lena studied my face for a long while and sighed.
“Okay if that’s what you want. But we are not taking this lightly. Promise me if anything happens… anything at all, we will go straight to the police,” she said, her voice soft.
“I promise,” I nodded.
“Let’s trash this and go back inside,” she said and bent down.
She picked up the box with the ribbon, tissue, and all, then carried it to the outdoor trash bin by the side of the house.
I followed her, watching as she dropped it in and closed the lid with a bang like she was burying evidence.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” she muttered.
As we moved back inside, I looked around the vicinity to check if I would see anything suspicious, but I didn’t see any.
When we entered the house, Lena locked the door, double-checked it, then triple-checked it.
I moved over to the couch and sank onto it, pulling my knees to my chest.
Lena sat beside me, placing her shoulder against mine.
“Do you want tea? Wine? Ice cream? Or should I just sit here and curse out imaginary stalkers until you are ready to sleep?”
“All of the above,” I said, managing to let out a small laugh.
“But mostly, just… stay.”
“Done,” she smiled and nudged me.
Just after a few seconds, my phone buzzed on the table.
I wanted to pick it up, but only then did I realize my fingers were shaking.
I picked it up with those shaky fingers like that.
It was a message from Dave.
“You okay? Just wanted to say goodnight. Sleep well, sweet❤️. Don’t stress yourself about the blog post. I will take care of it as soon as possible.”
I stared at the message and my thumb hovered over the screen for a while before I could type a reply.
“I’m okay. I was waiting for your text. Thank you for everything.”
I hit send and placed my phone face down on the couch beside me.
“Dave?” Lena asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell him about it?”
“I am,” I replied without hesitation.
She didn’t push further. She just leaned her head on my shoulder.
We sat like that for a long time before she finally stood and stretched.
“You know you are going to work tomorrow… let’s go to bed,” she said with sleepy eyes.
I stood up too. Then she followed me to my room before going to hers.
“Good night,” she said and closed the door softly behind her.
I switched the lights in my room off and lay down on the bed.
Sleep didn’t come.
My mind kept replaying the blog post, the comments, and the box from earlier.
“What if the person who sent the box was the same person who leaked the photo to the blog?” my inner voice chided.
I quickly reached for my phone and checked the blog again.
I checked through the post again and the phrase “source said” caught my attention.
I was right after all.
And whoever it was, I was convinced they wouldn’t stop there.
Dave worked faster than I expected.
The next day, the blog had already been deleted with no extra drama.
I was in my office, trying to finalize the lighting plan for a new client’s penthouse when the door opened after a soft knock.
“Ma’am… this just came for you,” my secretary poked her head in, holding a small brown envelope in one hand.
I wasn’t expecting anything.
I straightened in my seat and frowned slightly.
“Come in,” I replied.
She set the envelope on my table and walked back out, closing the door softly behind her.
I stared at the envelope for a moment, a knot tying in my stomach.
There was no address on it. It was just a brown envelope folded twice and sealed with a strip of tape.
I reached for it slowly and unfolded it.
Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper with words written with a black pen.
“You stand no chance with him. Steer clear.”
They didn’t even leave intervals between their threats.
My head began to pound.
I let out a long shaky breath and squeezed the paper in my fist.
For a second I thought about calling Dave and telling him to handle it the way he’d handled the blog post, but I talked myself out of it.
“Maybe when I get home,” I told myself.
I straightened the paper and took a photo. I had to keep evidence in case.
I crumpled it again, opened my drawer, and tossed it inside.
I spent the rest of the day trying to focus.
By evening, I was done. I packed up, slung my bag over my shoulder, and headed out to the parking lot.
I slid behind the wheel of my car, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.
That was when I saw it.
A figure on a black motorbike, parked across the street under a street lamp. The person was putting on a helmet but I was sure they were watching me.
My heart jumped, but I tried to stay calm.
I pretended not to notice, kept my eyes forward, signaled normally, and turned onto the main road.
In the rearview mirror, the bike pulled out behind me, keeping a moderate distance.
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
Then I reached for my phone, hit Lena’s name, and put it on speaker.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hey.”
“Lena,” I whispered, even though no one could hear me.
“There’s someone following me on a motorbike. I saw them outside my office, but they are behind me now.”
She went silent for a few seconds. Then her voice dropped to match mine.
“Okay. Stay calm. Don’t speed, and don’t look back. Where are you now?”
“I just passed the Chevron junction. Heading towards the house,” I replied.
“Good. Listen to me. Turn into that park close to our place and get out like you are waiting for someone. Act normal, I will be there in five minutes.”
“What? Lena, that’s…” my voice cracked, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“Trust me. Just do it. I will call the police on my way,” she assured me.
I looked at the rearview mirror again. The bike was still following me.
“Geez!” I muttered, forcing myself to breathe.
After a few minutes, I turned into the park entrance, pulled into the small lot near the fountain, and killed the engine.
I got out of the car, my hands shaking so badly that I almost dropped the keys.
Then I started walking toward the center of the park like I was meeting someone for a casual evening stroll.
A few feet away from me, the motorbike slowed.
I didn’t look back, but I felt it.
“I hope this isn’t a bad decision.”