136. She Didn’t Feel Safe

Ashley’s brow tightened, the furrow between her eyes deepening. What Mark had just said struck too close to the truth. It wasn’t just that someone had tried to hurt her—it was the brazenness of it, the sheer audacity to attack her in front of someone else. And worst of all, it happened right where she should have been safest. Her home. The one place she thought she could retreat to, hide in, be untouchable.

Now, that illusion was gone. And with it, any sense of control.

Mark took a slow step forward. He didn’t reach out to her. He simply stood beside her, looking out the same window where her eyes had been fixed for minutes. The air between them pulsed with unspoken things.

"I should’ve figured out who’s behind this by now," he said quietly. His voice carried a weight of guilt that made her throat tighten. "But whoever it is... they know how to disappear. I’ve got nothing. I’m sorry."

Ashley didn’t answer right away. Her lips parted, but the words caught in her chest. Eventually, she managed a whisper. "It’s okay, Mark. I know you’ve done what you can. You didn’t even have to help in the first place, but you did. That means everything to me. I owe you more than I can say."

Mark turned to her slightly, shaking his head. "You don’t owe me anything. You know why I’ve done this. I care about you, Ashley. I always have. Even back then... even now. I should’ve come back sooner, but—there were things that kept me here."

His voice faltered. For a moment, the polished composure cracked. The memory of what had happened to his younger sister—the thing that had derailed his life—seemed to rise and settle in the room like dust. The treatments. The pills. The hollow therapy sessions. All of it had failed to erase the gaping wound that loss had left inside him. He’d had to claw his way out of the void alone, ignoring calls, ignoring the world, ignoring Ashley.

Even now, he wasn’t sure if he had fully returned.

And Ashley—she would never know the full extent of that darkness. Mark wouldn’t let her. That part of his life was too tangled in grief and guilt to untangle now.

A heavy silence settled between them. Not awkward, just... heavy.

Ashley didn’t know what to say. Their breakup had never been messy. It wasn’t built on betrayal or bitterness. No screaming fights, no infidelity. They’d simply parted ways, two people who once loved each other, walking down different paths. But that clean ending—that lack of closure—made it all feel even more complicated now.

Mark shifted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He sensed it too—the tension, the unfinished lines they both pretended didn’t exist. So he moved past it.

"Now that your husband knows," he said, changing the subject, "what’s he planning to do?"

Ashley sighed. "Josh already filed a report this morning. The police took his statement. They said they’d try to pull the security footage, but... you know the basement has no CCTV. And the cameras outside the building were somehow offline during the attack. It’s like someone planned it that way."

"Convenient," Mark muttered.

Ashley glanced at him.

"You think it was planned?" he asked.

She hesitated. "Nothing about this has felt random. Not the package. Not the messages. Not this." She swallowed. Her voice dropped. "It’s getting worse."

Mark nodded grimly. "And more brazen."

A moment passed before his brow lifted. "Wait... the photos?"

Ashley stiffened. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

She took a breath. Her voice came out low, tight. "I’ve been getting pictures. Of me. Taken in secret. Outside my office. My building. Even here. They come with threats. Almost daily. Every time I try to reply, the number’s already disconnected."

Mark didn’t speak. He waited.

Ashley crossed the room to the small table where her phone sat. She picked it up, then walked back and handed it to him. The screen showed a message thread filled with grainy but unmistakable images—her face in profile as she walked, sat, unlocked her door. Each one paired with a chilling line of text.

Mark scrolled slowly, jaw tightening with each flick of his thumb. He shook his head. "You never told me about these."

Ashley didn’t answer.

"Look—" Mark held the phone out, tapping one of the images. "These photos. They’re taken from close range. The angle, the lighting... it might be traceable. Maybe there’s metadata. Maybe we can find where they were standing."

Ashley blinked. "You think that would help?"

"I think it’s our best lead so far."

His voice was low but focused.

"Have you shown these to your husband?"

Ashley shook her head.

“Not yet.”

Mark’s gaze lingered on her phone for a moment longer before handing it back, the muscles in his jaw still tense. Ashley took it silently, her fingers brushing the screen as if even touching the device reminded her of how exposed she had become. She slipped the phone into the pocket of her hospital gown, then glanced up at him.

“You should show him,” Mark said finally, his voice calm but edged with concern. “He needs to see it, Ashley. Especially now.”

Ashley turned toward the window again, unable to look at him.

“I will,” she murmured. “Later…”

Mark didn’t push. He knew that look on her face—the quiet retreat behind her eyes, the way her shoulders curled slightly inward, like she was trying to fold herself away from the world. She was overwhelmed, and she didn’t need another person adding pressure to the storm already unraveling inside her.

Instead, he stepped back, giving her space. 

“Look,” he said gently, “I know this isn’t easy. And I know it’s probably complicated with him now that he finally knows. But you’re not going through this alone anymore. You hear me?”

Ashley didn’t respond right away. She closed her eyes instead, letting the silence settle over her like a thin sheet of calm. But it didn’t last. Her chest ached with a pressure she couldn’t name. Something between gratitude and guilt.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she said quietly.

Mark gave a soft, disbelieving scoff. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I put myself here. Willingly. And I’m not stepping away, Ashley. I don’t care how long this takes or how complicated it gets.”

She looked at him now. Really looked.

His expression was steady, firm, but not forceful. There was a calm kind of loyalty in his eyes—unflinching, quiet, but deeply rooted.

Ashley swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” she said, the words barely above a whisper.

Mark nodded once, then exhaled and checked the time. A faint wince passed across his face—he hadn’t realized how long he’d been there. His posture shifted, like something clicked back into place inside him.

“I should get going,” he said. “You need rest, and I’ve got a meeting I promised to check in on.”

Ashley’s eyes followed him as he moved to the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob.

He turned back, meeting her gaze one last time.

“But I meant what I said. I’m going to help you, Ashley. And not just me. Your husband too. We’re not going to let this person keep you afraid.”

She didn’t answer, but the way her eyes softened—just a little—said enough.

“Get some comfortable rest. There are plenty of people and medical staff around. At the very least, you're safe here.” Mark gave her a quiet nod and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door gently shut behind him.

For a moment, Ashley stood in the stillness of the room.

She didn’t feel safe. Even here.