Chapter 6 – Don’t Tell Anyone
Clara’s Pov
For a long moment I just stared at the message, my eyes refusing to focus on the words. You shouldn’t have told anyone. They glowed on the screen like a taunt, as if whoever sent it was sitting somewhere close enough to see my reaction.
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t told anyone where I was meeting Evelyn. I hadn’t even mentioned her name in the texts. How could they possibly know?
The thought of someone climbing through my window while I slept made my stomach twist. I didn’t hear anything last night—no footsteps, no creak of hinges—nothing. That meant one of two things: either I’d slept deeper than I thought, or whoever it was knew exactly how to move without noise.
I took a shaky breath and tried to steady myself. Panicking now wouldn’t help. I needed to think, to piece together what had just happened. The phone felt heavy in my palm. I ran my thumb along the edge as if the smooth glass could somehow answer back.
My first instinct was to call Evelyn, but I hesitated. If this person really was watching me, they might already know I’d told her. What would another call do—provoke them?
Instead, I texted her a coded message: Can we meet about the files? Usual place. Noon.
I hoped she’d know that meant something wasn’t right.
After that, I dressed quickly, grabbed my bag, and left the apartment without looking back. I didn’t even make coffee; my nerves were already bright and raw enough. The air outside felt like needles—thin morning light cutting through mist that clung between buildings. I checked every reflection I passed, half-convinced I’d see someone pacing a few steps behind me.
When I reached the café, Evelyn was already there with a black notebook open in front of her. She looked up the second I walked in, reading my expression before I even spoke.
“What happened?” she asked.
“They were in my apartment last night,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her. “I don’t know how, but they got in. They left my phone on the window ledge. There was a message.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What did it say?”
“That I shouldn’t have told anyone.”
Evelyn closed the notebook and scrubbed a hand through her hair. “All right,” she said quietly. “Then we stop pretending this is a prank. You’re dealing with someone who wants control. They’re trying to remind you they’re always a step ahead.”
Her calmness helped me breathe, but just barely. “What do I do?”
“For now, you don’t go back to that apartment alone,” she said. “Pack a bag. Stay somewhere crowded—hotel, friend’s place, doesn’t matter. Somewhere anonymous.”
Renee came to mind. “I could stay with my roommate.”
“Good,” Evelyn said. “Just… don’t tell anyone else. Not even your boyfriend.”
I almost laughed. “You mean Adrian.”
“Yes. Especially Adrian.”
Her tone left no room for argument. The suspicion that had been flickering in my chest flared brighter.
Evelyn leaned forward. “He fits the pattern, Clara. Quick attachment, charm that borders on obsessive focus, career flexible enough to manipulate his schedule. I’ve seen this before. He could be testing boundaries until you stop questioning him entirely. That’s when he owns you.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to breathe through the sudden weight of those words.
After lunch, I told her I’d text once I was safe at Renee’s. Then I left by the back exit, checking the street before heading to the subway.
When I got home, Renee was folding laundry on the couch. “You look awful,” she said. “What happened?”
“Long story. I need to crash here for a couple nights, okay?”
She frowned but didn’t argue. “Sure, of course.”
While she kept talking about work deadlines, I ducked into my room and shoved clothes into a duffel. My mind kept jumping between the image of that photo from the night before and the message waiting on my phone.
If the intruder was Adrian, he might already know everything. If it wasn’t him, then someone else knew about me and Evelyn—and that meant danger wasn’t just romantic paranoia anymore.
I stayed at Renee’s that night. She went to bed early, leaving me alone on the couch with the faint hum of city noise outside. I didn’t even bother changing into pajamas. My phone sat facedown on the coffee table, silent.
Around midnight, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment. Slow, deliberate, too heavy to belong to Renee. The floorboard near the front door creaked—the same way it always did when someone pressed close to listen.
I froze, heart hammering so hard I thought it might fill the silence completely. Then the sound stopped.
For a full minute there was nothing. Then a soft scrape like metal brushing metal—someone trying the lock.
I held still, barely breathing.
Then, abruptly, a key slid in, twisted. The sound of the deadbolt turning echoed through the quiet apartment like a scream. I lunged for my phone, but before I could unlock it, the door clicked open.
I didn’t wait. I grabbed Renee’s heavy floor lamp, yanking the cord from the wall, and raised it like a bat.
The door swung open fully, and light spilled in from the hallway.
“Clara?”
Adrian’s voice.
I stopped, chest pumping with adrenaline.
He stepped inside, brows lifted in surprise, holding a small paper bag. “Whoa, easy—what are you doing?”
“Why are you here?” I demanded.
“I texted you,” he said, setting the bag on the table slowly. “You didn’t answer. You left your umbrella in my car last night, so I thought I’d drop it off.” He glanced toward the lamp in my hands. “Mind putting that down?”
I looked at the phone. No new messages. Not from him, anyway.
“I didn’t get any text,” I said carefully.
“Huh. Maybe it didn’t go through.” He smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward my duffel bag. “Going somewhere?”
“Just crashing here for a few days.”
He nodded, slipping his hands in his pockets. “Everything okay?”
“I just need some space.”
His face softened. “Clara, if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. You don’t have to shut me out.”
He took a slow step closer. Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the lamp. He stopped where he was, hands raised in a half-surrender.
“Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll give you some time. Just… be careful, okay? You’ve seemed off lately. If someone’s upsetting you, I should know.”
His words hung heavy with that strange undertone I couldn’t read—concern or control, I couldn’t tell which.
When he finally left, I locked the door behind him and slid the chain across. My hands were shaking so hard that I had to clutch the doorknob to steady them.
Renee appeared in the hallway in pajamas, rubbing her eyes. “Was that Adrian? Did he seriously just let himself in?”
“He said he had a key,” I whispered. “For emergencies.”
Her expression darkened. “You gave him one?”
“I didn’t.”
That stopped her cold.
We stared at each other, the weight of that single sentence thick between us. Then, somewhere outside in the hallway, we both heard it—a faint beep, like the tone of a phone camera capturing a photo. One single click.
Renee’s eyes widened.
“Clara,” she whispered, “someone’s out there.”