Novel & Cerita The Lady Is A Stalker

“Do you know Stacy Conway’s story?” Now my stomach did back flips. “Yeah, I do.” Stacy was a model. Her stalker served two years in prison. A week after his release, he killed her. No… that wasn’t exactly correct. He slaughtered her. “She was mine.” That brought me out of my horrible thoughts. “Yours?”

No entering his office, no bringing in guests, and no access to the east wing. Rule #7 stood out in bold: Do not enter the locked room at the end of the hall. And Rule #8: If you do, you will not like what you find. "I didn’t fall in love with my husband. I fell into his trap... at first."– Married to My Stalker

The picture is upscaled and the blurry object becomes clear. It’s a black flower vase with red painted calla lilies. It was a permanent decoration back in the house till my mother got rid of it when they moved. My eyes widen and I gasp. “Oh my goodness!” the scream is out before I can stop it. Sera rises to her feet. Her beautiful face is grim and her smile is gone. “I think you have a stalker,” My first thought, without surprise, is Charles and Calypso. But what could their motives be?

She could hear the faint sound of the woman’s footsteps echoing against the pavement. When the lady reached the van, Savannah halted, staying hidden behind a tall shrub. The woman opened the back of the van, pulling out a box filled with supplies, clearly unaware of her stalker. This was it. Savannah’s heart beat faster, but she suppressed the rush of adrenaline, waiting for the perfect moment.

Wyatt said finally. "Then you need to understand something. Stalkers don't see obstacles as people. They see them as problems to be solved. And sometimes..." She paused, choosing her words with extreme care. "Sometimes problems get solved in permanent ways. Sometimes people who stand between a stalker and their target have accidents. Car accidents. Muggings gone wrong. Random violence that can't be traced back to anyone specific." "Jesus," Lauren whispered. "I can't prove any of this," Sarah continued. "I can't share case files or make accusations. But I can tell you to be careful. To trust your instincts. To take every precaution." She looked at Lauren. "Do you have a firearms license?"

"Liars," I hiss, my voice trembling not from sadness but from a towering rage that reaches the crown of my head. They were the individuals engaging in an affair behind my back for years, and now I am being accused of being the interloper? I scroll further on the tablet screen. Netizen comments flow like venom. 'So the woman in the video is a stalker.' 'Poor Sarah, she must have been so stressed.' 'Pretty but obsessed with someone else's man, terrifying.'

I exclaimed. "Well...I saw her picture on your phone and I kind of stalked her on social media," she let out a nervous laugh. "You did? What the hell, Sally! That's creepy as fuck! Why would you spy on my girlfriend?" I was getting angry now. "Because I wanted to see who you were with. And well...she looked familiar, so I found out something about her," she said. "What is it?" I read irritated but curious. "Did you know she had to stay in a mental institution for a while? If you google her, you can read all about it," Sally said.

Chukwuemeka quietened. “Yes, I am,” Mabel mumbled. I crossed over to her and gently pulled her into my embrace. “Is it the inspection?” She leaned on me. “I think I aced the inspection, but–” her voice trailed. My heart pounded as I searched her eyes. Even Mrs. Chukwuemeka and Ruth stiffened behind me. “But what?” I asked. “There was someone... A stalker,” she replied. My chest tightened. “A stalker?”

“High?” I exhale. “It’s complicated.” Luca doesn’t speak. He’s watching me closely, thoughtful in that quiet, unnerving way he has. I clear my throat. “There’s also a stalker. Packages have been showing up.” “Packages?” Matteo echoes. “Yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair. “The last one was bad. Real bad.” “No clues?” Luca asks. “None.” I hesitate. “Whoever it is… knows her. Knew her back at the start of her career.”

I furiously said. “Why would I tell you? I’m not slow. Whatever I say will be against me. So, letting you figure it out makes things more interesting— don’t you think.” Brad began to laugh. Every time we moved closer, Brad gently squeezed the trigger. We are dead if we try anything. I glanced at my coworker, who was on the ground bleeding from the back. Fuck. “Why stalked women?? Why those people specifically?” I asked. “Stalking is such a strong word; I prefer INTENSE RESEARCH OF AN INDIVIDUAL,” Brad stated as he pulled the trigger. I fell onto my knees— I began to black out.