Chapter 009

Hailey’s POV

I did not open the second message.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone clenched in my hand, staring at the screen as if it might burn through my palm. My name remained there, stark and undeniable, proof that the past had reached across the distance I thought protected me.

Hailey.

No surname. No explanation. Just possession.

My throat tightened painfully. I had imagined this moment so many times while lying awake at night, but nothing prepared me for how small it made me feel. Not weak. Just exposed. As if every wall I had carefully built around myself had developed a crack overnight.

I powered off my phone and placed it face down on the bedside table, then pressed both hands against my stomach. My breathing came out uneven.

“You don’t get to do this to me again,” I whispered. “You don’t get to find me and unravel everything.”

The babies shifted faintly, a gentle flutter that grounded me just enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling completely. I focused on that sensation, clinging to it like a lifeline until my pulse slowed.

Sleep came late and in fragments. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw Dylan’s face as it had been the night he handed me those divorce papers. Detached. Certain. As if erasing me from his life was nothing more than crossing out an item on a list.

Morning arrived with a dull ache in my temples and a heaviness in my chest.

At breakfast, Aunt Rosa chatted easily with Mia, talking about school projects and weekend plans. I nodded in the right places, smiled when expected, but my mind was far away. Every sound startled me. Every vibration in the air made my heart leap.

Grant came down the stairs halfway through breakfast, already dressed for work. He paused when he saw my face.

“You look pale,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t sleep much,” I replied.

He hesitated, then pulled out a chair and sat beside me. “Did something happen last night”

I shook my head too quickly. “No. Just pregnancy nerves.”

The lie tasted bitter, but I swallowed it anyway. I wasn’t ready to say his name out loud. Not yet.

Grant studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

After he left, the house felt too quiet.

I spent the morning trying to study, but the words on the screen blurred together. My thoughts kept circling back to the same terrifying question.

How did Dylan get my number.

By midday, I could not sit still anymore. I needed answers, even if I was afraid of what they might cost me. With trembling fingers, I turned my phone back on.

No missed calls.

One unread message.

My heart pounded as I opened it.

I wish I could say it was cruel or angry. That would have been easier to dismiss.

Instead, it read.

Where are you.

My chest tightened painfully. The simplicity of it made it worse. He wasn’t accusing. He wasn’t threatening. He was asking.

As if he had a right.

I locked the phone again, my hands shaking. The room felt suddenly too small, the walls pressing in on me. I stood up and paced slowly, one hand cradling my stomach as nausea rose sharply.

He was searching.

And if Dylan Moore was searching for something, he rarely stopped until he found it.

That afternoon, I went to the clinic for a routine checkup. The waiting room was quiet, the low hum of conversation blending with the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. I focused on my breathing, trying to steady myself.

“Everything looks good,” the doctor said later, smiling as he reviewed the results. “Your blood pressure is slightly elevated, though. Stress will do that.”

I forced a smile. “I’ll try to rest more.”

He nodded. “Avoid emotional strain. It is especially important with twins.”

I almost laughed.

On my way out, my phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

I stopped walking.

The hallway felt too bright, too open. Slowly, I answered.

“Hello”

There was a pause. A breath.

Then his voice filled my ear.

“Hailey.”

My knees nearly buckled.

For a second, I could not speak. Every sound faded into the background, replaced by the rush of blood in my ears. He sounded the same. Calm. Controlled. As if he had not shattered my world and walked away without looking back.

“How did you get my number” I finally asked, my voice barely steady.

Another pause.

“You didn’t think you could disappear forever,” he said quietly.

Anger flared hot and sudden in my chest. “You lost the right to call me the day you asked for a divorce.”

His breath hitched audibly. “I didn’t think you would actually leave like that.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You handed me papers and told me to name my price. What exactly did you expect”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Where are you,” he asked again.

“That is none of your business.”

“I need to see you.”

“No,” I said immediately.

His voice hardened slightly. “Hailey.”

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of how easily he used to command my attention. I refused to let it work now.

“I’m hanging up,” I said.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “Please.”

That single word struck deeper than I expected. Please was not a word Dylan Moore used often.

“I just want to talk,” he continued. “You left without saying anything. Without taking the money. Without looking back. That is not you.”

“You don’t know who I am,” I replied, my voice trembling with restrained emotion. “You never did.”

I ended the call before he could respond.

My hands shook violently as I lowered the phone. Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back fiercely. I would not cry over him again. Not now. Not ever.

When I got home, Grant was already there. He took one look at my face and knew something had changed.

“He called,” I said quietly.

Grant’s jaw tightened. “What did he say”

“That he wants to see me.”

“And you”

“I said no.”

Relief flickered briefly across his face, then faded. “He won’t stop.”

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my thoughts racing. Dylan knew I was in New York. He had my number. It was only a matter of time before he found out where I worked.

Or worse.

My hand moved protectively over my stomach as fear curled tight in my chest.

Then my phone buzzed again.

A new message appeared.

I didn’t open it.

I didn’t need to.

Because this time, it was accompanied by something far more terrifying than words.

A photograph.

My breath caught painfully as the image loaded.

It was me.

Leaving the clinic earlier that day.

And the caption beneath it read.

I see you.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as realization crashed over me in a cold wave.

Dylan wasn’t searching anymore.

He had already found me.