Chapter 3 (ALICE’s POV)

I had woken up still feeling warm from my conversation with Timothy last night, but the moment I grabbed my phone, every feeling flew out the window.

It was a chat from the same unknown number. I tapped the chat open, and before the screen fully loaded, ten new messages slid in.

A raw gasp tore from my throat and I felt the blood drain from my face as the images struck clearly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered, scrolling on my phone with a shaky thumb just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks.

But no. There it was. Again. And again.

Tad. Shirtless, on a balcony. Arms wrapped around some woman. His mouth on hers. Her linen nightwear barely covers anything. None of the pictures showed her face.

It had to be from his Italy trip, the same trip he’d come back from last week, smelling like a different cologne and lying straight to my face about “business meetings.”

He was laughing in the shots, too. Actually laughing. When was the last time Tad smiled anywhere near me? Hell, has he ever?

Questions hit me one after the other. Who the hell is she? And more importantly… who sent these?

Media? A burner account? Is someone trying to stir chaos in my marriage?

Two more messages blinked at the bottom of the screen. I swallowed hard, my throat itchy.

“It seems your husband has been busy building a new life outside your arranged marriage, Mrs. Davenhall. Maybe it’s time you stop playing the obedient wife.” — Unknown.

My heartbeat picked up as I stared at the screen.

“And don’t even think of showing him this. I trust you to be smarter than that. And remember, I have eyes on you.” __Unknown.

I glanced toward the window, the sunlight suddenly feeling like a spotlight.

Still trying to recover from the shocking images, I decided to go for a morning run, anything to keep my mind from shattering under the weight of what I’d just seen.

By the time I got back from my run, Tad had gone to work.

I had decided to take myself out for lunch today and maybe try to figure out the unknown person who seems to know more about Tad than I do.

Half an hour later, I pulled up at a familiar French restaurant owned by my father.

I was a regular, so the staff didn’t waste time ushering me to my usual seat by the window. My order came almost immediately.

I lifted my glass of Chablis, taking a slow sip while my fingers moved fast across my phone.

I needed to hire someone. Someone good. Someone who could check my phone and figure out how the hell it got hacked cause I sure as hell didn’t give whoever my contact.

The only person who could help me find someone was my best friend, Mel. But she’d been buried in work lately, so busy she might as well have forgotten I existed.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood. The air shifted, subtle but wrong.

Out of instinct, I looked up. Then around. Then out the window to my left.

And there was a figure. Right across the street. Dressed in black. Face covered, features impossible to make out.

Standing still and watching me.

My heartbeat spiked as I stared back, pulse roaring in my ears. What the hell…?

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I didn’t know how long I’d been frozen like that when a light tap landed on my right shoulder.

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I flinched, breath catching as I jerked my head to the side.

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A male employee stood there, concern etched on his face. He looked like he’d been calling my name for a while. I must have spaced out.

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“Yes?”

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“This is for you, Mrs. Davenhall,” he said, setting a small brown parcel on my table.

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“For me?” I frowned. “From who?” I wasn’t expecting anything from anyone.

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“From a particular Mr. M. The delivery man said you were expecting it.” With that, he walked away.

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Delivery man? My eyes drifted back to the window.

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The figure was still there. Still watching.

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First of all, who the hell is Mr. M?And is he the one standing outside right now, staring straight at me?

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I picked up the parcel. Mr. M was written boldly across it. The package itself was… elegant. Too elegant. Wrapped neatly, tied with a ribbon.

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My pulse thudded harder.

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I ripped it open. Pictures. Stacks of them.

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Every single one featured Tad with women. Not one woman. Different women. Different places. Different dates. The dates went all the way back… two years. Right to the start of our marriage.

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My fingers trembled as I flipped through them, one after the other.

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Five women. At least. The one from this morning, the balcony, the linen nightwear, was clearly the most recent.

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All their faces were blurred out. Every single one.

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“What in the…?” I half-whispered, shock freezing my face as my eyes took in the different angles.

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Tad is in a hotel room, in a hotel lobby. At an entrance. At work. On vacation. Everywhere.

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What exactly is going on? Does Tad have a stalker? And if he does… Why am I being dragged into it?

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My phone buzzed. A message from the same unknown number.

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“Do you like my surprise gift?” — M

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My heartbeat spiked as my gaze shot back to the window, suddenly hyperaware of every movement, every reflection. He was still there.

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How did this person know where I was?

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“Who is this? Why are you doing this?” I typed fast. No reply.

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I called the number, but there was no response.

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Then I typed, “No. I don’t like your gift.” My eyes flicked back to the figure outside. He wasn’t typing. No phone in sight.

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The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

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“Haha… I still have a lot in store for you. Look forward to them.” — M

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And just like that, they went offline.

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I stood up, hurriedly stuffing the pictures back into the package. My hands shook as I wrapped it clumsily, shoved my handbag over it just to keep it shut.

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Then I grabbed my phone and bolted out of the restaurant.

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The guy in black had to know who Mr. M was, and had to know what he wanted with me. There was no way he stood out there staring at me like some cartoon villain for nothing.

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I rushed out, ignoring the server calling my name. Outside, I took the staircase two steps at a time.

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And then, at the foot of the stairs, my shoulder slammed into a solid figure.

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“I’m so sorry…” I turned, and at the same time, my ankle twisted beneath me.

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A loud yelp tore from my lips as I lost balance. For a split second, all I caught was it.

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Warm Cinnamon. It wafted through my nostrils.

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Then the floor rushed up, and I slumped hard against the cold floor, pain shooting through my ankle as my breath was knocked out of me.

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“Why run so hard in heels for fuck’s sake?”

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The voice was familiar, threaded with something else, worry, like my twisted ankle had ripped something out of him, and it hurt so bad.

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“Apologies, I…” I stammered, words stumbling over themselves as my eyes lifted and froze.

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Dark amber eyes stared straight at me, unblinking. The figure was already too close, way closer than I expected.

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My chest seized, my heartbeat betraying me. Oh…shit.