Chapter 3 - The Shadow from the Past
I stared at the anonymous text message until the screen went dark, my mind racing through a dozen terrifying possibilities. Who sent it? How did they know where I lived? And what did they mean by what you stole from me five years ago?
I dropped the phone onto the kitchen table next to Lauren’s divorce papers, my hands trembling as the coffee machine hissed, finishing its brew. For years, my affairs had been casual, compartmentalized, and entirely detached from my corporate life. Or so I had believed.
Except for one.
Five years ago, during a particularly messy stretch when my business ventures were expanding into downtown Dallas, I had brief, reckless entanglement with a woman named Chloe. She worked as an executive assistant for one of our primary corporate competitors. Unlike the others, Chloe hadn't been content with hotel rooms and whispered promises. She had wanted a permanent place in my life, threatening to expose my marriage to Lauren if I didn't leave her.
Panic-stricken, I had cut her off entirely, changed my phone number, and buried the incident so deep in my memory that I had almost convinced myself it was a bad dream.
Until now.
The front door clicked open, and Lauren walked in carrying a bag of groceries, her coat damp from the morning mist. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me standing by the table, staring fixedly at the phone screen.
"You're still here," she said flatly, closing the door behind her and setting the grocery bag on the counter. "I expected you'd rush off to work or go hide out somewhere."
"Lauren, we have a problem," I said, my voice tight as I spun the phone around and pushed it across the counter toward her. "Look at this."
She glanced down at the screen. As she read the threatening message, the calm, composed armor she had worn the night before instantly fractured, replaced by a cold, sharp dread.
"Who is this?" she whispered, her eyes snapping up to meet mine. "James... what did you do?"
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"It’s from someone I was involved with years ago," I confessed, running a shaking hand through my hair. "Before you even suspected anything. I thought I cut all ties, but someone is watching us, Lauren. They're watching you."
Before she could answer, a loud, heavy knock rattled the front door—not a polite tap, but a sharp, demanding pounding that made the windowpanes vibrate.
