Mira hustled around for a few more minutes, then said, "I'll be upstairs if you need me."
I waited until she was gone before I sighed—quietly, like the sound itself would betray my weakness.
Reggie watched me.
"What?" I asked.
He hesitated. "You sure you're okay?"
"No," I said truthfully. "But I'm managing."
He didn't push. That's what I liked about him—even when he cared too much, he knew when to back off.
We ate mostly in silence. Just the occasional scrape of a fork or the hum of the fridge filling the space between us.
When we were done, I stood to clear my plate.
"I'll do it," Reggie said, reaching for mine.
"No," I replied, holding it out of reach. "You're not my house help."
He smirked. "Then don't treat me like one."
But he let me go anyway, lounging back in the chair like he owned the place. Like nothing could touch him.
When I returned, he was still there, scrolling on his phone, brows drawn together.
"You staying long?" I asked.
He looked up, and something in his expression had shifted.
"I was thinking... maybe I should crash on the couch tonight. Just in case."
I frowned. "In case of what?"
"In case whoever's behind that message decides to get brave."
A chill ran down my spine. Not because I thought he was right—but because I hadn't considered the possibility until now.
"You think they'd actually come here?"
"I don't know. But I don't like the idea of you sleeping alone tonight."
I stared at him.
Not at the words. At the way he said them.
Like it wasn't up for debate.
Like protecting me was something he'd already committed to—whether I asked or not.
I opened my mouth to argue, but the sudden vibration of my phone on the counter cut through the moment.
Another message.
My fingers stiffened as I reached for it.
Reggie was beside me in seconds, peeking over my shoulder.
A photo.
Blurry. Taken from a distance.
Me.
In the bath.
Only a sliver of me was visible—the edge of the tub, the crown of my head, the vulnerable curve of my neck.
No face. No skin.
But enough to make my blood run cold.
The caption underneath:
"Glass doesn't hide much. You should really lock the door."
My breath hitched. My knees nearly gave out before I gripped the counter behind me.
Reggie grabbed the phone. "What the hell—?"
My mind spiraled.
There were no windows in the bathroom.
No cameras.
Unless...
The mirror.
A two-way mirror?
No. That's insane. Why would—
"Vanya," Reggie's voice snapped me back. "Where exactly is your bathroom located? Which direction?"
I blinked, trying to catch up. "West wing. Faces the back lawn. There's... a glass vent above the tub for steam."
Reggie cursed under his breath. "They're watching from outside. Somewhere close."
I felt sick.
"This has to stop," I whispered. "I can't keep living like this. Always being watched. Threatened."
He nodded. "Then we stop hiding."
His fingers curled around mine.
"We fight back."
"How do you fight what you can't see?" I asked, my voice hollow. "How do you fight something that lurks in the shadows?"
Astor Heights was the biggest mansion in Emerald Manor—and my room was upstairs. Who on earth would climb a sixteen-foot-high building to stalk someone?
Unless they didn't climb.
Unless they used a drone.
Whoever this was... they weren't just curious. They were prepared. Calculated. Obsessive.
"Where's the CCTV control room?" Reggie asked, grabbing my hand and dragging me upstairs.
"First room on the right wing," I said, hurrying after him.
We reached the upper floor. Reggie pushed open the door to the control room—a dim, cluttered space with ten monitor screens, some keyboards, dangling wires, and three chairs.
He sat and began scrubbing through the feed from the west-facing side of the mansion. No intruder would be foolish enough to come through the main entrance.
Everything looked still. Quiet. Too normal.
Then we noticed it.
The footage skipped. From 7:58 to 8:30 PM—exactly the time we got home. Right after I took that bath.
Without a word, Reggie and I turned to each other, wide-eyed.
Realization hit.
They hadn't just been watching.
They'd hacked into our system.
That was no longer curiosity. That was a full-scale invasion.
If I wasn't scared before... now was the time I should be.
Reggie began pacing. "We need surveillance. I'll bring a few things over—old cameras from the media room, even that baby monitor set your dad used for the dog. Just something. Anything."
"You know how to set all that up?" I asked.
"Vanya, I'm the guy who taught the tech club how to jailbreak a drone camera before they even had facial hair."
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
He walked toward the window, parting the curtain slightly, eyes scanning the night.
"We're being hunted," I said quietly.
"No," Reggie said. "You are."
He turned to face me, expression unreadable.
"And I won't let them touch you."
I swallowed hard, torn between wanting to be protected—and wanting to disappear.
But it didn't matter anymore.
Because I wasn't alone.
Not in this. Not anymore.
Later that night, as I curled up in bed, the moon casting pale light through the skylight above, sleep remained a distant hope.
Eventually, I slipped out from under the sheets and crept to the door. Opening it quietly, I heard faint noises from downstairs—Reggie shifting on the couch, the soft clink of glass.
He was still awake.
Watching.
Waiting.
So was I.
Sleep never came easy anymore.
Especially when I knew—
They were watching too.
And they weren't done yet.
Not even close.