101

101
Alexander stayed for coffee, talking business with her dad, laughing easily. But every so often, his gaze drifted to her. Assessing. Curious. As if he sensed something different.
When he finally stood to leave, he paused beside her chair. His hand brushed her shoulder lightly: just a friendly gesture to anyone watching. But his thumb grazed the side of her neck, a deliberate touch that sent ice through her veins.
“See you soon, Emily,” he murmured, low enough only she could hear. “We have plenty to celebrate.”
The door closed behind him. David returned to the kitchen, oblivious.
Emily excused herself and ran upstairs. In the bathroom, she locked the door and stared at the necklace in her palm. The tiny mask glinted mockingly.
She dropped it into the trash can, buried it under tissues. Out of sight.
But not out of mind.
That afternoon, she tried to distract herself. She cleaned her room, scrolled social media, anything to keep busy. But the memories kept intruding. The dream version of Alexander had started with small gestures too: gifts, compliments, innocent touches. Then the shift. The possession.
She would not let it go that far.
Her phone buzzed again. New unknown number.
I noticed you left early last night. Everything all right?
She blocked it instantly.
Another message appeared five minutes later. Different number.
You can’t hide from me, little one. Not forever.
Her blood turned to ice. This was new. In the dream, the blackmail had started after the hookup, after the pregnancy. Not before. Not like this.
Was the timeline changing because she was fighting it? Or was he simply more direct this time?
She turned the phone off completely and shoved it into a drawer.
Evening fell. David ordered pizza for a quiet birthday dinner, just the two of them. He gave her his main gift: a new laptop for college. She hugged him tightly, grateful for his uncomplicated love.
After he went to bed, Emily sat in the dark living room, staring out the window. The street was empty, quiet. But she felt watched.
A soft notification sound made her jump. She had forgotten her tablet on the coffee table. It was connected to her messages.
One new text, visible on the lock screen.
I’m patient, Emily. But not endless. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.
She grabbed the tablet, hands shaking, and powered it down too.
This was not the same as the dream. This was worse. He was hunting her already, without leverage, without cause. Just because he wanted to.
She curled up on the couch, wrapping a blanket around herself. Tears came suddenly, hot and silent.
Tomorrow she would make a plan. Tell Katie and Nyla enough to keep them away from parties. Maybe confide in her dad about feeling uncomfortable around Alexander. Not the full truth: that was impossible: but enough to create distance.
She would apply to colleges farther away. Change her number. Avoid family gatherings.
She would escape him.
But as she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, one thought echoed relentlessly.
What if fate would not let her?
What if, no matter how hard she ran, Alexander Voss always found a way to pull her back into his orbit?
Emily woke to the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. For a moment she lay still, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar weight of dread to settle over her like a blanket. It did not come as heavily as yesterday. That was something, at least. Small victories.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen remained dark. She had left it powered off all night, a deliberate act of defiance. No new messages from unknown numbers. No chilling promises. Silence felt like armor.
Downstairs, her dad was already gone for his Saturday morning golf game with colleagues. A note on the counter read: Back by lunch. Order whatever you want for your birthday weekend. Love you, kiddo.
She exhaled slowly. Alone in the house. Safe, for now.
First priority: disappear from Alexander’s reach without raising alarms. She powered the phone on just long enough to change her number through the carrier app, a process that took twenty painful minutes of verification codes and security questions. New number activated. Old one deactivated. She forwarded nothing. A clean break.
Next, she opened her laptop and started drafting messages to Katie and Nyla. Not the full truth. That would sound insane. Just enough to create distance.
To both: Hey girls, I’m taking a social media and phone break for a bit. Feeling overwhelmed after the birthday stuff. Need some quiet to figure out college apps and everything. Don’t worry if I go radio silent for a week or two. Love you.
She hit send, then turned on Do Not Disturb for the new number and restricted messages to contacts only. Ruthless, but necessary.
The necklace was still buried in the bathroom trash. She retrieved it, wrapped it in tissue, and dropped it into a small jewelry box at the back of her closet. Evidence. If things escalated, she might need to show someone how oddly specific the gift had been.
By noon, her dad returned with takeout burgers and a proud grin. “Best way to extend a birthday, right?”
They ate on the patio, talking about safe topics: her upcoming college choices, his work projects, the new action movie in theaters. Alexander’s name did not come up once. Emily almost relaxed.
Almost.
Sunday passed in deliberate normalcy. She helped her dad grocery shop, baked cookies, watched old comedies in the living room. Every laugh felt borrowed, but she clung to it.
Monday morning brought school. Senior year, second semester, light schedule. She drove herself, music loud enough to drown thought. In the parking lot, she spotted Katie’s car and steeled herself.
Katie and Nyla ambushed her before first period.
“Em! What the hell?” Katie demanded, arms crossed. “Your old number’s dead, and that text about a break? Are you mad at us?”
Nyla looked hurt. “Was the party that bad? We thought you just got sick.”
Emily hugged them both quickly. “I’m not mad. Promise. I just… turned eighteen and suddenly everything feels huge. College, leaving home, all of it. I need space to breathe. No drama, okay?”
Katie softened. “Fine. But you better not ghost us forever.”
“I won’t,” Emily said, and meant it. She loved them. She just could not risk them dragging her into another situation where Alexander could appear.
The school day dragged. She kept her head down, avoided lingering in hallways, ate lunch in the library. By final bell, exhaustion hit hard. Not physical. Mental. The constant vigilance.
On the drive home, her new phone rang. Unknown number. She let it go to voicemail. No message left.
Tuesday. Same routine. Another unknown call at lunch. Ignored.
Wednesday evening, her dad texted from work: Running late. Alex might swing by to drop off some paperwork for me. Let him in if I’m not back yet?
Her stomach twisted.
Emily: Actually heading to the library to study. Can you ask him to leave it in the mailbox?
Dad: Sure, no problem.