Chapter 27

Chapter 27
Amelia barely made it in the door before her legs gave out under her. She fell across her bed, spent, with weariness clinging to her like a chains that dragged at her from behind, her muscles complaining about the overtime Dominic had put her through. The injustice of it still burned in her, but she was too tired now to find anger. She could only close her eyes and shut out the world.

Then, something moved.

A darkness passed by her window.

She gasped, her breath lodged in her throat. She leapt up quickly, her exhaustion for a moment forgotten. Did she imagine it? Maybe it was just a trick of light, a tree branch creaking in the wind. But her heart was pounding against her ribs, her senses on alert.

And then, before she could quite convince herself it was nothing, a fleck of paper sailed through the air. It curled and curled before finally falling on her window and sticking there for a second before sliding very slowly down.

Amelia's stomach bunched up. This wasn't right.

For a while, she wondered if she should just ignore it. But the discomfort nagged at her. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, insisting on standing up. Her body complained, but she pressed on, making her way towards the door.

The night air was crisp on her skin as she stepped out from indoors. The paper had landed on the floor just beneath her window, lying there like an invitation. She hesitated before crouching down to pick it up.

It was a letter.

And it was addressed to her.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, controlled. As she read, her heart pounded.

_Amelia,_

_You've been ignoring me, but I have not forgotten. I hope today was a reminder. They do not care for you. They never will._

_I do, however._

_The offer remains valid. You're owed something for all of this. Let me assist you. Take what's owed to you._

_I will be in touch._

There wasn't a signature. But Amelia didn't need one.

She knew exactly whom it was from.

Ass.

That was what she had teasingly referred to them as—the enigmatic caller who had been calling her for weeks, whispering things in her ear. Whispers of justice. Whispers of revenge. Whispers of an agreement that would highly benefit her from her divorce.

She had not believed them. Not at first.

But now, out in the cold night with the letter in her hand, she was not so sure anymore.

She didn't know anything.

\---

Amelia locked the door inside. She placed the letter on her small kitchen table and glared at it as if it would contain more secrets if she glared at it long enough.

Her phone rang.

A chill crept down her spine. She already knew whose it was.

Deep breath, she got out her phone and read the screen. Unknown Caller.

Her thumb was on the answer button. They had called before, but she had never answered. She had always let it ring, listening to the voicemail afterward—short, cryptic messages asking her to consider their offer.

Tonight, she answered.

She held the phone to her ear but didn't speak.

"Good girl." The voice was smooth, near-laughing. "I was beginning to think you'd never call."

Amelia swallowed hard. "Who is this?"

A chuckle. "You already know."

She closed her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to help you," they said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You had a bad day, didn't you?"

Her fingers gripped the phone. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you, Amelia."

A shiver crawled down her back. She took herself in hand and forced herself to stay calm. "You sent the letter."

"Yes."

Her eyes flew back to it, still on the spot where she'd set it down. "Why?"

"To remind you that you don't have to keep losing."

She laughed a cold laugh. "And what, you're providing me with a way to win?"

"I'm providing you with justice."

She hesitated. "At what cost?"

Silence between them until the voice finally spoke. "Nothing you weren't already willing to lose."

Her heart was pounding. "I don't know what you're expecting me to do."

"You will."

And then the line went dead.

Amelia allowed the phone to drop slowly down from her ear. She remained there for an endless moment, staring at the screen, her head reeling with questions she wasn't certain she'd ever want to have answered.

Outside, the wind picked up, rushing through the trees' leaves. The night was thicker, the shadows darker.

She wasn't alone.

And she didn't know if that frightened her—or thrilled her.

\---

Sleep never came easily that night. Any groan of the house set her sitting bolt upright, her body tensed tight for something—someone—to burst into view. By morning, her exhaustion had seeped deep into her bones, but her mind still churned restlessly.

She sat staring at the letter again over a cup of coffee, running her fingers over the edges contemplatively. The words still lingered in her mind, their heavy weight pressing on her chest.

_You don't have to keep losing._

She had already lost so much. Was it so wrong to want something back?

Her phone rang again. Another unknown number.

She did not answer this time. But she did not block it either.

She simply was not yet ready to make a decision.

Because for the first time in a very long time, she had a choice.

And that scared her most of all.