Beneath the image was a short line of text: *The rent is due, Elizabeth.*

My stomach dropped.

The throb in my head grew sharper, a localized heat behind my eyes.

I walked to the door of my office and opened it.

Mara was still standing near Sarah’s desk, talking to a resident.

She looked up at me, her expression turning serious when she saw my face.

She excused herself and walked over to me.

“What is it?” Mara asked.

“They know where I live,” I said, showing her the screen.

“They’ve been watching my building.”

“You’re not going back there tonight,” Mara said immediately.

“You’ll stay at my place,” she said. “We can get your things later with security.”

“No,” I said. “That just moves the target to your front door.”

“I’m not afraid of Michael,” Mara said.

“You should be,” I said. “He has nothing left to lose if Patricia goes to prison.”

The glass doors at the end of the administrative hallway opened with a soft hiss.

A security guard stepped through, followed by a tall man in a tailored gray coat.