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LILA POV 

I'm about to do something stupid. Don't blame me. 

Sometimes, life is like a cruel joke, serving you lemons when you don't even have water or sugar to make lemonade. And yet, they say you have to make it work. Either you stand up and do something, or you sit there and let life devour you whole. 

In my case, life hasn't just served me lemons-it's thrown the entire tree at me, roots and all. But no more. I'm done sitting down and letting my circumstances dictate my every move. I'm taking a deep breath, standing up, and squeezing every last drop out of those lemons. 

Lemonade, here I come. 

My thoughts instantly raced back to Derrick, my anchor, my boy, lying helplessly on that hospital bed. The doctor demanded fifty thousand dollars for his treatment-some fancy name for an ailment I couldn't even pronounce, let alone understand. 

All I wanted was to see him healthy again, to see that familiar spark in his eyes. Derrick, with his bright smile and those enchanting eyes that could melt even the coldest hearts. His eyes... he got them from his father. From Rafael. 

Every time I looked at Derrick, I saw Rafael staring back at me. My monster. My angel. The contradiction was maddening. 

I pulled into the garage, my thoughts pulling me down like bricks. The car, a secondhand deal I'd barely been able to afford, had been my saving grace. It got me to work every morning, spared me the hassle of flagging down cabs, and saved me from the wrath of my boss when I showed up late. But even with a recent pay raise, it was nowhere near enough to cover Derrick's medical bills. 

I climbed out, locking the car door behind me, and dragged my tired body inside. The weight of my struggles pressed down on my shoulders, but I couldn't let it show. Not now. Not when I had so much riding on me. 

I walked into the house and froze. There it was, waiting for me-a note on the kitchen counter. My jaw clenched. Was I surprised? Of course not. The notes always came. Like clockwork. And yet, every single time, they managed to sink their claws into me, gripping my curiosity and twisting it like a blade. 

With shaky hands, I unfolded the note. The words hit me like a slap. 

"How do you enjoy being fingered? Two fingers? One? Or three?"

My jaw dropped, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Was this real? Was he seriously taunting me like this? 

I should have been angry. Furious. Disgusted. But instead, a wave of heat coursed through my body, pooling low in my belly. 

My mind betrayed me, dragging me back to those moments. Rafael's hands on my thighs, his fingers plunging inside me, his voice thick and commanding as he told me I was his. The way my body had given in, trembling under his control. 

"Fuck," I whispered, the memory washing over me like a tidal wave. 

My hands moved of their own accord, sliding down to the edge of my jeans. My breathing grew shallow as my fingers slipped beneath the waistband, seeking the heat between my legs. 

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't even be thinking about him. But the moment I touched myself, all I could picture was Rafael-his dark eyes locked on mine, his lips curling into that wicked smirk as he whispered filthy promises in my ear. 

My fingers moved faster, chasing the release I so desperately needed. Images of him flooded my mind, each one more vivid than the last. His rough hands. His deep voice. The way he could make me feel like I was on fire and drowning at the same time. 

I gasped, my body shuddering as pleasure overtook me. My orgasm hit me like a freight train, leaving me breathless and trembling. 

For a moment, I lay there, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The haze of pleasure slowly began to fade, replaced by a crushing wave of guilt and shame. 

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I let myself get swept up in thoughts of him, knowing everything he'd done to me? Knowing he was the reason Derrick was lying in that hospital bed? Of only he had not threatened, perhaps I should have told him about Derrick and Derrick would have had a happy home. 

But fucking no. My story was fucking different. Alpha Rafael 'Different'

I sat up, wiping the sweat from my brow, and forced myself to focus. Derrick. My boy needed me. And I still didn't have a plan. 

Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. I grabbed it, praying it was Ava with good news about Derrick. But when I read the message, my blood turned to ice. 

"That was a nice orgasm, Kitten."

Wait what?!

My heart stopped. My breath hitched. 

How? How did he know? 

And then another realization hit me like a punch to the gut. 

How the hell did he get my number? 

I stared at the screen, the words blurring as panic gripped me. This wasn't just a note. This was a message. A message from him. A reminder that no matter how far I ran, no matter how hard I tried to hide, Rafael would always find me. 

I dropped the phone like it burned me, my hands trembling as I backed away. My mind raced, searching for answers, for a way out. But deep down, I already knew the truth. 

There was no escape. 

Rafael had me right where he wanted me. And if I didn't do something-anything-soon, I'd lose everything. 

Including Derrick. 

Tears burned my eyes as I clenched my fists, anger and fear swirling inside me like a storm. 

Maybe it was eventually time I do something stupid as I had said earlier... My fingers trembled, as I grabbed my phone and took in a long mbreathe, shutting my eyes, and then I exhaled.

I'm fucking doing this.... "How can I see you?" I texted back.

Tell me this isn't stupid, and I'll tell you how Insane it is to text your stalker.