Julian watched my eyes.

He knew exactly where I was looking.

He reached out his hand.

His fingers were long, pale, and perfectly manicured.

He picked up my phone before I could move.

“Let’s see what else is happening on your account,” he said.

He didn’t use a fingerprint scan.

He knew my passcode.

He had made me set it to his birthday three years ago, claiming it was for emergency access.

“There is nothing on there,” I said.

“Just draft comments from readers.”

“Then you won’t mind if I check,” he said.

He swiped across the screen.

The phone buzzed in his hand.

It was a short, sharp vibration.

Then another.

And another.

The screen lit up with three rapid notifications.

They were direct messages from the blogging platform’s backend messenger.

Julian’s thumb paused over the glass.

“Who is *Saffron_and_Sage*?” he asked.

The name sent a chill down my spine.

That was the user who had been commenting on my posts for the past month.

At first, the comments were normal.

*Great recipe, Clara.*

*The crust is very flaky.*

But then they changed.