Chapter 32: The Watcher

The night air hit him like ice. Gabriel didn’t stop walking until the gates of the estate loomed behind him, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He pressed a hand to the iron bars, breath ragged, his chest tight with something that felt like drowning.

My voice echoed in his skull. She’s lying. She’s manipulating you.

Emily’s voice tangled over it. You don’t have to hide it. You know what we had. You know about the baby.

The words clashed like blades, cutting deeper with every repetition.

He closed his eyes, fists tightening. Why couldn’t he remember? Why did every answer dissolve into fog the moment he reached for it? His past was a locked door, and both women were screaming at him to choose the right key.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, hesitating, his thumb hovering over the screen.

A message from Emily.

Please don’t let her twist you. You know me. You know us. Call me when you’re ready.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, jaw grinding.

He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust me, either—not completely. Not anymore.

What if the truth wasn’t what either of them said? What if the truth was something uglier, something buried in the part of his memory he couldn’t touch?

His pulse pounded. He dug his nails into his palms until they stung, until the pain anchored him to the present.

“Who the hell am I?” he whispered into the night.

The wind carried no answer.

But in the shadows beyond the gates, a pair of eyes watched him. Cold. Calculating. And when Gabriel finally turned back toward the house, the watcher slipped silently into the dark.

Gabriel shoved the gate shut behind him, the clang echoing like a warning bell. His chest still heaved, his head pounded, but he forced himself back up the drive. One step, then another.

The house loomed ahead, its windows glowing soft and warm, a cruel contrast to the storm inside him.

He didn’t notice the figure melt deeper into the shadows, trailing him silently, unseen.

When he opened the front door, the silence hit harder than the shouting ever had. I stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, shoulders squared. The folder Emily had left sat untouched on the table between us, a poisonous reminder neither dared touch.

Our eyes met.

For a moment, neither spoke.

“You walked out,” I said finally, my voice low and controlled, but trembling at the edges.

Gabriel shut the door behind him, leaning against it like it was the only thing holding him up. “I had to breathe.”

“Breathe?” My laugh was short and bitter. “While she was poisoning you in our own house? While she stood there, lying about a baby that doesn’t exist, and you—”. I broke off, my voice cracking.

He ran a hand over his face, dragging it down as though it could scrape away the doubt clinging to him. “I don’t know what’s real, Eve.”

My chest tightened. “I am. We are. Can’t you see that?”

His eyes lifted, meeting mine. For a split second, something warm flickered there—recognition, longing, a glimpse of the man I’d married.

But then it was gone, replaced by that haunted distance.

Gabriel’s gaze fell to the folder. “If she’s lying…” His voice was rough, almost broken. “You have to prove it. Because right now, I can’t trust either of you.”

My heart clenched, the weight of his words crushing me. He didn’t say ‘I don’t trust you’. He said I can’t trust either of you.

The room seemed to tilt, the ground slipping under my feet.

And outside, in the shadows just beyond the glowing windows, the watcher lingered. Waiting. Listening.

My throat burnt, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of him. Not when Emily’s poison was already eating at the edges of his faith.

“You can’t trust me?” I whispered, each word sharp as glass. “After everything I’ve endured? After standing by you through years of silence, through nights when you didn’t come home, through—”

“Eve—” Gabriel tried, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“No. You don’t get to silence me. Not anymore.” My voice rose, trembled, but didn’t break. “You want proof? Fine. I’ll get it. But when I do, Gabriel, and when it shows exactly who she is, you’d better pray you still have something left of me to come back to.”

His jaw tightened. His silence was worse than any denial.

I turned away before he could see me crumble. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms. I didn’t care if it drew blood. The pain grounded me? kept me from falling apart.

Through the glass of the front window, the night pressed close. Too close. A chill slipped down my spine, the kind of instinct that whispered I wasn’t alone. I moved to draw the curtains, but something—someone—shifted in the dark beyond.

My breath caught.

When I blinked, the shadows were still again. Empty.

I swallowed hard, tugging the curtains closed with more force than necessary. Maybe it was just my fraying nerves. Or maybe Emily wasn’t fighting this war alone.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, whispering a promise only I could hear.

“You want war? Fine. I’ll burn the world down before I lose him.”

Behind me, Gabriel lingered in the doorway, watching me with unreadable eyes.

And outside, unseen, the watcher turned away from the window, their lips curving into a smile.

—

The blinds rattled softly, a faint tremor from the night wind, but my pulse didn’t slow. I could still feel it—that prickling on the back of my neck, the certainty of eyes locked on me.

I stayed frozen in the kitchen doorway, one hand gripping the counter until my knuckles whitened. Gabriel was upstairs, finally asleep after hours of pacing, his chest rising with the first steady breaths I’d heard in days. I should have felt relieved. Safety.

But I didn’t.

My gaze drifted back to the window. Beyond the glass, the garden lay draped in shadows. Too still. Too quiet.

I swallowed hard, the taste of copper sharp on my tongue. Don’t be paranoid, Eve. Don’t give Emily that much power. She can’t be everywhere at once.

And yet…

The phone on the counter buzzed, startling me. I snatched it up, the glow of the screen lighting my face. A new message from an unknown number.

Nice curtains. Didn’t know you liked leaving the window open at night.

My blood iced.

I backed away from the window instinctively, the phone clutched tight against my chest. The message was deliberate. Precise. Whoever it was—they weren’t guessing. They were watching.

My breathing grew shallow. I wanted to run upstairs, to wake Gabriel, to shove the phone in his hands and demand he believe me. But the humiliation of earlier—the doubt in his eyes when Emily had cornered them—kept her rooted.

If I showed him this, and he thought it was another stunt, another overreaction… it would break me.

Another buzz.

Careful, Eve. The truth has a way of slipping through cracks. And you’ve got more cracks than you think.

My hand shook. I nearly dropped the phone.

Who is this? I typed back, thumbs flying, my desperation trembling through each keystroke. What do you want?

The reply came fast, too fast.

To protect you.

My chest seized.

I stared at the words, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. Protect me? From whom? From Emily? From Gabriel? From me?

The shadows outside shifted. A figure moved just beyond the garden wall, the faint glow of a lighter sparking briefly before vanishing into the dark.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a cry. Someone was out there. Watching.

But when the figure slipped deeper into the shadows, the truth was clear:

Whoever they were, they weren’t leaving.

And worse—they knew me.