51

Chapter 51

Martin's Pov

Sleep had escaped from my life. It has become a luxury I could no longer afford with all my money.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that message.

The one that had arrived two nights ago, cold and direct: I'll get you. I'll feed your head to the dogs.

No mercy for what you did.I'd tried to convince myself it was nothing. A prank.

Some random threat from a rival in the drug business who wanted to scare me. That's what I told myself at first.

But then the second message came.Then the third.

Each one, more specific. More threatening. Each one proving that whoever was behind this knew things they shouldn't know.

You jail her for money.

You framed an innocent woman.

I'm watching you.

Overthinking about my life, as I sat in my home office now, three in the morning, staring at my phone screen. I couldn't even package the cocaine I had to deliver by 6am. The latest message had come in an hour ago. Just two words:

“Soon, Martin.”

My hands shook.

Who the hell was behind this?

But no—Adrian was too broken, too scared. I'd seen her at that park. She'd frozen when she saw me, terror written all over her face.

That wasn't the behavior of someone orchestrating a harassment campaign.Darcy Rodrigo, then.

He had the resources, the money, the connections. If Adrian had told him everything and she probably had by now—he'd have every reason to come after me.

Rich men like him didn't take kindly to threats against their households.But would he really use anonymous messages? Wouldn't someone like Darcy just send lawyers or the police?Unless he wanted me scared first.

He wanted me to panic all the time, to stay on edge, to jump at every sound, before making his real move.

The thought made me feel anxious.I'd been so careful.So calculated. He'd watched from a distance, kept my surveillance discreet, and never left traces.

But that camera had caught my car. Security had seen something. And now someone was hunting me.

My phone buzzed again. I nearly dropped it.Unknown number. Of course.

Tick tock, Martin. Time's running out.

"Fuck!”

“Damn it!” I threw the phone. It hit the wall and cracked again.

“Martin?”

I turned. Amelia walked to the doorway,standing in her robe, sleepy but alert. “What’s wrong Martin? I heard a crash.”

My pulse raced. “Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just dropped my phone. Go back to bed.”

She stepped closer, arms folded. “You’ve been here for three nights this week. You hardly sleep. You jump at every sound. What’s going on?”

“Business trouble,” I said.

“Business trouble?” She gave a cold laugh like she knew I was lying. “You’ve had business trouble before, like worse, even when they tried to kill you, you were so calm that I worried more than you, who was the victim, it was never like this. You look terrified.”

“I’m not terrified.”

Her eyes dropped to my waist. “And why are you carrying a gun by this time?”

My hand brushed on the Glock at my belt. I started carrying it two days ago, after a message revealed my home address.

“It’s a precaution.”

“Against what?” she snapped. “Martin, what have you done? Who’s after you?”

“No one!”

“Then why the gun? Why the sleepless nights? Why are you shaking?”

I wanted to tell her because she'd been my ally for years. I wanted to confess everything,that I felt Darcy was messing up my head with threats or maybe he wasn’t the person, then tell her about the messages, the fear, but if I did, she’d start asking about Adrian. And if Amelia ever found out the truth about me working for Brittany, I don't think she'd be comfortable with it and I swore secrecy with Brittany.

“It’s nothing darling, you don't need to worry about it,” I said.

“Competitors don’t send threats at 3 a.m.,” she said coldly.

“Drop it, Amelia.”

“No.” She came closer. “I’m your wife. If someone’s threatening you, threatening us, I deserve to know.”

“There’s no ‘us’ in this,” I snapped. “This is my problem. Stay out of it.”

Her face hardened. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But when this catches up to you, don’t expect me to go down with you.”

She turned away, and stormed out, when she reached the door she slammed it, even the windows shaked.

The silence that followed after she left was heavy. I picked up the phone again. The cracked screen still glowed with the message:

“Tick tock, Martin.”

Whoever this was, they wanted me scared. And it was working.

---

The next morning, my head was pounding, I just slept for two hours at night. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Amelia was gone for the day, no note, just cold coffee on the counter.

I needed someone who’d understand the situation. Someone who also had a lot to lose.

Brittany.

I texted her:

Brittany, we need to meet. Something isn’t right.

Her reply came fast.

What happened?

Can’t explain by text. Today. Urgent.

A pause. Then:

Fine. Usual place. 2 PM. This better be important.

I exhaled shakily.

---

By noon I was so anxious. I decided to check all the cameras installed in the house and then the house locks. Then, I loaded bullets in the unregistered guns I bought, then tucked it at my ankle.

When I got to the small café in Queens.

Brittany, sat by the edge in the cafe.

Dark clothes, sunglasses covered her eyes. She was sipping her drink.

“You’re supposed to be early Martin, why come in late?,” she said.

“Had to make sure I wasn’t followed.”

“By who?”

“That’s why I called you.” I gave her my phone. “Someone’s been sending me messages. Threats.”

She read them silently, her face was calm when she went through my phone but her jaw, tight. “How long has this been going on?”

“About a week. It started after I saw Adrian in the park.”

“That was stupid,” she muttered.

“I know. But now someone knows. They’re watching me.”

“It’s Darcy,” she said flatly.

“You think so?”

“Who else? You approached his nanny and daughter in public. His security has footage of your car. Of course he’s investigating you.”

“Then why the threats? Why not call the cops?”

“Because he’s fishing,” she said, leaning back. “He doesn’t have proof yet. If he did, you’d already be in handcuffs. This is just to make you panic and slip up.”

Her logic made sense, but it didn’t calm me.

“What if it’s not Darcy?” I asked quietly. “What if it’s someone else, from my other side of the business?”

“Then handle it,” she said coldly. “But don’t lose focus. We’re one week away from the gala. One week from destroying Adrian’s reputation. If my plans for the gala works, we will push through with the drug implantation.Stay in control.”

“I am.”

“Then stop acting like a scared child.” She stood, picking up her purse. “And lose the gun. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

I froze. “How did you…?”

“I can see the outline through your jacket,” she said. “Be smarter, Martin. This will blow over if you don’t panic.”

She left. I was alone with cold coffee.

---

By evening, the fear was stronger than ever. Every person I saw on the street looked suspicious. Every eye that met mine seemed like it was staring. Every car looked like it was following me.

As I got home, I was very careful checking both sides with my eyes wide open.

Amelia’s shoes sit by the door, but I couldn’t see her. Everything looks normal. The faint smell of her perfume.

But something felt wrong.

That creeping feeling. The kind that says you’re not alone.

I walked through each room, hand on my gun. Living room—clear. Kitchen—clear. Bedroom—clear.

Then I opened my office door.

And froze.

There was a photograph on my desk. I took that picture three years ago and it went missing three years ago.

It was from that night—the night I’d drugged Adrian and sold her virginity. The picture showed me outside the hotel, counting cash. My face was clear.

And someone had drawn a red X over it.

My legs nearly gave out. Someone had been inside my home. They’d left this message—this proof.

I know what you did Martin. You’re marked.

My hands shaked as I held the desk for balance. I nearly fell to the ground. The air felt thin.

This wasn’t a game anymore. Someone had broken in. Someone knew everything.

I looked for my phone inside my pockets and typed with shaking fingers:

Brittany, we need to meet again. Now. It’s worse than I thought.

But deep down, I already knew, this wasn’t something Brittany could fix.

Whoever was doing this wasn’t bluffing. They’d entered my home, into my life. They were close.

Too close.

The photo on my desk glared back at me, that red X was like a target painted on my face. I admitted my time was almost up.

I left the room in a hurry, holding my gun, searching for someone ,anyone while my heart skipped.

Because now I knew one thing for certain: This wasn’t ending anytime soon. It was just beginning.

And I was running out of time. Now that I was a target too.