The Price of Betrayal and the Business of Reclaiming My Life
The sender was Daniel.
I tapped the screen to open the message.
My breath hitched in my throat as I read the words.
“I know you were at the coffee shop,” the message read.
I froze, the glass of water slipping slightly in my hand.
The phone buzzed again.
Another message appeared right below the first.
“And I know what you took.”
I looked toward the dark window of my apartment, my heart suddenly racing.
The headlights of a car turned into the parking lot below, sweeping across my ceiling.
I stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen, keeping my eyes fixed on the window.
The phone buzzed a third time.
“We need to talk, Emily. Before things get out of hand for both of us.”
The door to the apartment building lobby downstairs clicked open.
I heard the heavy, slow footsteps on the stairs.
They were coming up.
I held my breath, my finger hovering over the emergency call button on my screen.
The footsteps stopped right outside my door.
A shadow cut off the light leaking from the hallway under the doorframe.