Directly across from my entrance, the black SUV sat idling, exhaust rising in pale plumes into the cold evening air.

“He is not wasting any time,” Grace said, her voice quiet.

The phone in her hand began to vibrate again.

The screen lit up with the same unknown number.

Grace looked at me, her eyes commanding and steady.

“Put it on speaker,” she said, handing the device back to me. “Let him speak.”

My fingers trembled as I swiped the screen and tapped the speaker icon.

“I see you received my message,” Adrian’s voice drifted through the small room, flat and devoid of warmth.

“There is a car outside my building, Adrian,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Are you stalking me now?”

A dry, short laugh came through the line.

“I am protecting my interests, Vivian,” he said. “And right now, you are a liability to those interests.”

“You forged a medical report,” I said, looking at the printout on Grace’s desk. “You paid off someone at the clinic to write that I had postpartum psychosis.”