Chapter 117 Chapter 117
“Yes, let’s go,” I said shakily. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot as usual; my heartbeat was sitting high in my throat the entire drive home. By the time I reached home, I had convinced myself again that it was probably someone trying to mess with me. Maybe a coworker with a twisted sense of humor. Maybe a spam scam using random compliments to bait replies. Still, I found myself checking behind me while walking in twice.
Zaiel was already home when I walked into the living room; I found him standing near the kitchen island scrolling through something on his tablet while dinner heated on the stove. He looked up immediately, his expression softening the second he saw me, like it always did, like I was the only thing in the room that actually mattered.
“You’re late,” he said, walking over and pulling me into his arms without hesitation.
“Work stacked up,” I answered, pressing my face into his chest for a second longer than usual.
He noticed; he always noticed.
“Tessa, be honest, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, Kai, I am, I promise,” I said automatically, then sighed because lying to him felt impossible even when I wanted it to be easier. “I got flowers today. And messages.”
His body stilled just enough for me to feel it.
“What kind of messages?” he asked quietly.
I handed him my phone without answering, watching his eyes scan the screen while his jaw tightened slowly, controlled, and measured. He didn’t explode; he didn’t even look panicked. He just read everything twice before handing the phone back.
“You blocked the number?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Block it,” he said calmly. “And tomorrow I’ll have building security check cameras around the office and parking area.” he said
“I told you earlier it was probably nothing.”
“Probably,” he agreed, brushing his thumb along my jaw gently. “But I like confirming ‘probably.’”
That made me smile a little despite everything.
We ate dinner together, talked about seating charts and vendor confirmations, and for most of the night, things felt normal again. Safe and familiar. Wrapped in that comfortable rhythm we built over time. Until my phone buzzed again on the counter.
Unknown: You shouldn’t have told him.
Zaiel
The moment she handed me her phone, something sharp slid into my chest and settled there like broken glass pressing against bone. I kept my expression calm because she didn’t need me losing control over messages from a number we hadn’t traced yet, but every instinct in me snapped awake like a switch flipping on in a dark room. She was being stalked again ; I was the only one allowed to do that shit to her.
By the time we finished dinner, I had already texted Joe to quietly check internal building security contacts, and he was running number trace software before I even asked. I couldn't let the family know as yet because my family moved faster than most people thought possible when it came to protecting someone who belonged to us, and if they knew about this, they would cause a riot. Tessa belonged with us; she was family, and she belonged to me.
Not in the possessive way people joked about. In the real way. The permanent way. The way that meant her safety sat at the center of every decision I made without me even thinking about it.
When her phone buzzed again and she read the message out loud, I felt something colder settle into place behind my ribs.
“You shouldn’t have told him.”
That wasn’t random; that wasn’t spam. That was someone watching patterns. Someone was watching her routine closely enough to assume she wouldn’t mention it.
“Block it now,” I said, already reaching for my own phone.
She hesitated for half a second before nodding and pressing the block option, her fingers moving slower than usual, like she hated acknowledging the threat but knew ignoring it wouldn’t make it disappear.
“Do you think it’s someone from work?” she asked quietly.
“Maybe,” I said honestly. “Maybe someone who sees you every day and thinks they know you because they see pieces of you.”
She leaned against the counter, arms crossing loosely, while her eyes dropped to the floor like she was replaying every interaction she’d had recently, searching for clues she might have missed.
“I don’t like it,” she admitted.
“I don’t either,” I said, stepping closer until her shoulder brushed mine. “But we’re going to figure it out.”
Later that night, after she fell asleep curled against my side, I stayed awake longer than usual, scrolling through building security access reports, cross-checking employee schedules from her department that Joe sent over, and scanning parking lot entry logs from the past week. Nothing obvious stood out, which made it worse because obvious threats were easier to handle; hidden ones lingered longer.
Around two in the morning, my phone buzzed with a message from Joe.
Joe: The number is routed through rotating digital masks. Whoever it is knows how to hide basic trace signals.
I stared at the message for a long time before locking my phone and glancing down at Tessa sleeping beside me, her breathing steady, her face relaxed in a way that only happened when she felt completely safe.
I brushed her hair back gently, my chest tightening with something heavier than anger. Someone had stepped into her life without permission, and I was going to find him. I just didn’t know yet how patient I was willing to be about it.
Tessa
It started small the next morning. At first, I thought I was imagining things. My coffee cup wasn’t where I left it, and my desk chair was slightly angled differently than when I had gone to bed. Not enough to be alarming, but enough that I paused mid-step and scanned the room. Nothing else seemed out of place. My laptop was on, still open on the report I’d been finishing before bed. My phone was where I’d left it on the nightstand.
I shook my head, blaming the sleep-deprived brain for paranoia. Then I remembered the bouquet, the messages, and the blocked number, and my stomach sank.
I kept my head down at work, eyes flicking constantly to the reflective surfaces in the office. Everyone looked normal; everyone seemed like coworkers. And yet, the prickling sense never left me. Someone was watching; someone had been watching me. I could feel it in the way the shadows shifted when I walked past them, in the way my emails felt like they were being monitored before I even sent them, and in the faint clicks at the edge of my hearing when I stepped into empty hallways.
The next day, my mailbox contained a single black envelope. No stamp, no return address. I hesitated at the edge of the office hallway before pulling it out. Inside, there was a plain white card with embossed letters: “I see you. Everywhere.”
My stomach dropped. The blood in my veins went cold. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run, but more than that, I wanted to disappear.