Because someone is watching me.
The feeling started three days ago. That prickling awareness between my shoulder blades, the sensation of eyes tracking my movements whenever I step outside. At first, I told myself it was paranoia. Residual anxiety from living in a mafia compound for weeks.
But I lived years with a man who made me doubt my own reality. I know when I'm being watched.
Today, I'm ready.
"Mommy, can we have mac and cheese tonight?" Lily tugs my hand.
"Sure, baby." I scan the street as we approach our building. Nothing obvious. A woman walking her dog. A delivery truckdouble-parked. An older man reading a newspaper on the bench across the?—
There.
A black sedan, three cars down. Same one I noticed yesterday. And the day before.
My pulse kicks up, but I keep my face neutral. Don't react. Don't let them know you've spotted them.
We enter the building, and I guide Lily toward the stairs. But instead of climbing, I pause at the first landing. "Hold on, sweetie. Mommy dropped something."
Lily sighs dramatically but she waits.
I count to thirty. Then I peek around the corner toward the glass door.
And my blood goes cold.
Claudio.
He stands on the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, eyes fixed on our building. Same Claudio who works directly for him.
He put a man on me.
The rage hits like a wave. White-hot and blinding.
I grab Lily's hand and march upstairs, my jaw so tight it aches. The audacity. The absolute audacity. I left. I walked away from his manipulation, his control, his inability to treat me like a person capable of making her own decisions.
And he responds by putting surveillance on me like I'm a goddamn asset to protect.
I'm shaking by the time I unlock our apartment door.
"Mommy?" Lily's voice is small. "Are you okay?"
I force myself to breathe. Unclench my fists. Smooth the fury from my face before I look at my daughter. "I'm fine, baby. Can you do me a favor?"
She nods, those gray-blue eyes so trusting it breaks something in my chest.
"Go play in your room for a bit, okay? Mommy needs to make an important phone call."
"Is it about work?"
"Something like that."
Lily considers this, then shrugs. "Okay. But can Sir Floppington the Fourth and Princess Bun-Bun come visit soon? I miss them."
"We'll see," I manage.
She skips to her room, already singing something from Moana. I wait until her door closes before I storm into the kitchen, yank my phone from my pocket, and dial.
It rings twice.
