Chapter 22 - The Silent Perimeter
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Three days later, I brought Clara home to my mother’s old Victorian house on Oak Street.
It should have been a moment of quiet triumph. The hardwood floors smelled of fresh pine cleaner, the nursery was painted a soft blush pink, and my mother’s vintage rocking chair sat by the window. But every creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of panic straight to my heart.
Ben didn't let me come home alone. He had hired a private security team—four men in dark suits who now walked the perimeter of the lawn twenty-four hours a day. High-definition security cameras were mounted under the gables, and every window had been reinforced with shatterproof film.
I sat in the nursery, gently swaying Clara to sleep, when Ben walked in and leaned against the doorframe. He looked exhausted. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in two days.
"Security report came back," Ben said softly, stepping into the room and kissing the top of my head. "No sign of anyone monitoring the street. Tessa is working with federal investigators behind the scenes to trace the encrypted number."
"Are we prisoners in our own home, Ben?" I asked, looking up at him through tired eyes. "I thought when the judge signed those divorce papers, I would finally be able to breathe."
"You are free from Adrian, Lyd," Ben assured me, kneeling beside the rocking chair and placing his warm palm over Clara's tiny back. "Adrian is sitting in a remand cell waiting for his arraignment. He can't touch you anymore."
"Adrian was a coward," I murmured, resting my forehead against Ben's arm. "Cowards use lawyers and blackmail. The people who sent that text... they don't use courtrooms."
Before Ben could answer, the security intercom near the nursery door chimed with a sharp, high-pitched beep.
Ben was on his feet in a fraction of a second, his hand reaching instinctively toward the concealed holster inside his jacket. He tapped the intercom screen.
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"Marcus," Ben spoke into the mic, his voice hard as iron. "Report."
"Mr. Vance, we have an issue at the front gate," the security chief's voice echoed through the speaker. "A courier just dropped off a package. No return address. It passed the explosive scanner, but you need to see this."
