YEARS AGO.

Stephanie's face went pale immediately. She stared at the screen for so long that Seraphina almost snatched the phone out of her hands.

"Sera?"

"What? What does it say?"

Stephanie turned the phone slowly, her expression shifting from confusion to something else.

"It's a message…from Adrian." Seraphina froze. 

"That's his number?"

"No." Stephanie shook her head, her voice dropping. "That's what's scary…it's the unknown number but the message says it's from him."

She handed the phone over like it might bite her or shock.

Seraphina's hands trembled as she took it and the screen glowed in the dim light. 

There, beneath the photo of Adrian walking away, was a second message and this one had no image, just words.

"He's leaving you again. But I won't. I never did."

And then, beneath it was,

"Check the inside of your closet. Top shelf, left corner."

Seraphina's breathing stopped.

"No," she whispered, the words were barely audible. "No. No. No." Stephanie grabbed her arm. 

"What? What does it say?"

But Seraphina was already moving. She walked toward her bedroom like a woman in a trance, her steps heavy and very deliberate. Stephanie followed close behind, muttering prayers under her breath that didn't sound very prayer-like.

"Please let it be nothing. Please let it be nothing. God I'll stop cussing, I swear—"

The bedroom door creaked open and the room was still a mess from their earlier destruction. The broken mirror glass glittered across the bathroom floor, and pieces of shattered cameras littered the hallway.

Seraphina walked to the closet and her hand hovered over the handle.

"Babe," Stephanie called out, her voice tight. "Maybe we should wait for the police…or at least for Adrian to—"

"Steph."

"—come back, or maybe we call a priest, or an exorcist, or literally anyone with a gun—"

"STEPH." Seraphina turned, her eyes blazing. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Stephanie's mouth snapped shut and she nodded. Seraphina pulled open the closet door and the top shelf stared back at her, ordinary and unassuming. 

Clothes folded neatly, an old handbag she never used anymore. Nothing unusual…nothing threatening.

She almost sighed with relief, then her eyes caught it. A small white box tucked behind the handbag, almost invisible unless you were looking for it. 

Her heart stuttered.

"No..." Her fingers trembled as she reached for it. “Fuck no…”

"Sera, don't—" But she already had it.

The box was light. 

Plain white, no markings, no stamps. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped it twice before she finally pried the lid open.

Inside was a single item…a simple photograph.

Old and slightly faded, with curled edges that spoke of years. Seraphina stared at it for a long moment, her brain refusing to process what she was seeing. Then recognition hit her like a freight train.

It was her. 

High school. 

Standing in front of the gymnasium, laughing at something off-camera. Her hair was longer then, wilder. She wore a mismatched uniform and a smile she hadn't worn in years.

And in the corner of the photo, barely visible, was a handwritten note in the same elegant script she'd seen on her mirror.

"You always looked better when you weren't trying."

Her blood turned to ice.

"Stephanie..." Her voice cracked. "Stephanie…look at this."

Her sister rushed over and peered at the photo and the color drained from her face…her grey eyes blurring.

"Oh, hell no. That's—" Stephanie's voice went up an octave. "That's from high school… from years ago."

"I know."

"How does he have this?"

"I don't know!"

"How does he have pictures from—" Stephanie grabbed the photo and examined it more closely. "Wait. Wait. Look!”

She pointed at the background. A figure stood behind Seraphina, partially blurred, watching her from across the courtyard. A teenage boy in a dark hoodie, his face half-hidden.

Seraphina squinted. 

“The fuck is that?"

"I don't know, but he was staring at you." Stephanie's voice was barely a whisper. "He's…watching you. Even then…like even before everything."

The realization hit Seraphina like a physical blow. He'd been watching her for years. Not months or weeks.

Goddamn years.

Her legs buckled and she sat down hard on the floor, the photo clutched against her chest. Stephanie lowered herself beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Talk to me."

"I don't know him," Seraphina whispered. "I don't know who that is. I've never seen that face before."

But even as she said it, something nagged at the back of her mind. A flicker of memory…a face in the crowd? A boy who always seemed to be there, just on the edge of her vision.

She'd always thought she was imagining it but she wasn't.

Her phone buzzed again. 

They both stared at it like it was a snake coiled on the floor… either of them moved.

BUZZ.

"Don't check it," Stephanie said firmly.

BUZZ!

"Seriously. Don't."

BUZZ!!

"Ignore it."

BUZZ!!!

"It's just gonna be more creepy—"

BUZZ!!!

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD," Stephanie screamed, grabbing the phone herself. "I'M GONNA—" and she froze mid-sentence, her eyes locked on the screen.

"What?" Seraphina asked, her hands shakey. "What does it say?"

Stephanie looked up slowly, her face unreadable.

"It's from Adrian…he real Adrian. Like, his actual number." Seraphina blinked. 

"What?"

"He says..." Stephanie swallowed hard. "He says they found cameras in his penthouse. Nine of them…and a diary." She paused. "The diary has your name written all over it.” She looked up, “like fuckin cover to cover."

Seraphina's heart stopped.

"And he says..." Stephanie's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "He says the handwriting matches one of his business associates. Well someone he's worked with for years."

"Who?"

Stephanie met her eyes now.

"Marcus Webb."