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“Ms. Esther,” he said, tone dangerously calm, “you need to stop following me around just to find out where Lorenzo is.”

Esther stiffened, trying to look surprised. “I—what? No, I didn’t—”

Larry leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his stare pinning her in place.

“You think I don’t notice? I’m not blind,” he said coldly. “I’ve seen you lurking outside my gym, outside the office, at dinners, at private parties you weren’t even invited to. Stalking me just to get to Lorenzo.”

Her mouth parted like she might argue—but no words came.

“If it happens again,” Larry continued, his voice sharper now, “I’m calling the cops. No warning next time.”

Esther sat frozen, her fingers trembling slightly around her untouched drink. Her posture stiffened, lips tightening into a thin line.

Larry didn’t stop. He leaned in closer, his voice now laced with disgust.

“All this talk about Lorenzo divorcing Krystal because of you, about how he’s madly in love with you, you’re the one spreading those rumors, aren’t you?”

She blinked, eyes darting to the side, silent.

Larry scoffed under his breath. “Thought so.”

He stood, snatching his phone from the table, movements clipped with anger.

“I’m not your friend,” he snapped. “I don’t know you. So quit using my name to get into parties and places just to snoop around about Lorenzo.”

Without giving her another look, he turned and walked out, his jaw clenched, boots thudding against the floor with every step.

***

Krystal walked down the dimly lit road toward the nearly empty parking lot, her shopping bags digging into her wrists. The cold evening breeze rustled the trees, and with every step, fatigue weighed heavier on her shoulders. They’d been out for hours. Darren was still inside, obsessing over jackets like he was preparing for a Mars expedition. Impatient and drained, she had slipped out ahead, craving air and silence.

But the silence that met her was... wrong.

The parking lot was too quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint echo of her heels on the pavement and the dull rustle of wind through the leaves.

Then—headlights.

A car slowly turned the corner and began crawling behind her.

Krystal’s stomach twisted. Her steps faltered, and she glanced over her shoulder.

It was the same black car that had been parked outside the mall entrance earlier.

Her heart kicked against her ribs.

She walked faster, clutching her bag tighter. The lot was too empty, too wide. There were no security guards. No bystanders. No place to hide.

Her hand scrambled into her coat pocket, yanking out her phone. The screen lit up—1 missed call: Lorenzo.

She didn’t think. She hit ‘Unblock.’ Her thumb trembled as she pressed ‘Call Back.’

Her breath caught in her throat as the car inched closer, its tires crunching gravel beneath it. Her hands were shaking now.“Please pick up… please pick up,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over her pounding heartbeat.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Click.