Chapter 2 - THE MAN OUTSIDE THE WINDOW
Eli was sitting at our kitchen table when I got home.
He had one hand wrapped around a mug he wasn't drinking from.
“You scared me.”
He looked up.
“You're the one who disappeared for forty minutes.”
“I was working.”
“You're always working.”
I dropped my bag.
“What's wrong?”
He shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Eli.”
He looked toward the window.
“There's a car outside.”
I froze.
“What car?”
“Black sedan. It's been there since before you got home.”
I walked to the curtain without touching it.
“Did you see who's inside?”
“No.”
“Don't look.”
“I already did.”
My brother's face was pale.
I checked the lock.
Then the second lock.
Then the chain.
The same nervous ritual Mom used to have before she died.
I hated that I had inherited it.
“Maybe they're waiting for someone.”
“Maybe.”
Eli rubbed his shoulder.
“I missed therapy today.”
“Why?”
“I didn't have the copay.”
My stomach sank.
“I told you I'd handle it.”
“With what?”
He wasn't angry.
That made it worse.
“With tips?”
“I can work more.”
“You already work too much.”
“I'll figure it out.”
“You always say that.”
I sat across from him.
“We'll figure it out together.”
His eyes softened.
“Did the scary man upstairs hurt you?”
I laughed despite myself.
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss him?”
I stared.
“How do you know?”
“Your face.”
I covered my face with both hands.
“Please never become a detective.”
“Too late.”
He grinned.
For ten seconds, everything felt normal.
Then headlights swept across our ceiling.
We both stopped.
The black sedan pulled away.
I waited until it disappeared.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Nobody spoke.
“Hello?”
The line clicked dead.
Eli watched me.
“Who was it?”
“I don't know.”
I didn't tell him that a second message arrived ten minutes later.
Don't let your brother go to therapy tomorrow.
No name.
No explanation.
Just those words.
I sat on the edge of the bed that night staring at the screen.
At two in the morning, I called the only person whose number I had from that evening.
Adrian Moretti.
He answered on the first ring.
“Mara?”
I swallowed.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I gave your number to my phone.”
“That isn't comforting.”
“What happened?”
I told him.
He didn't interrupt.
When I finished, his voice was different.
“Is the car gone?”
“Yes.”
“Are your doors locked?”
“Yes.”
“Don't leave the apartment.”
“I'm supposed to work.”
“Not tomorrow.”
“I can't afford not to.”
“I'll pay your wages.”
“No.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Mara, listen carefully. I didn't have anyone follow you.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because if you wanted to scare me, you wouldn't use an unknown number.”
He was silent for a moment.
“You're right.”
“What do you think is happening?”
“I think someone saw you with me.”
“And?”
“They may think you're important to me.”
My pulse jumped.
“Am I?”
Another silence.
Then, quietly:
“I don't know yet.”
I didn't sleep.
At seven the next morning, two of Adrian's men were standing outside our building.
I opened the door halfway.
“No.”
One of them blinked.
“Mr. Moretti asked us to stay nearby.”
“I don't need guards.”
“Your brother does.”
That stopped me.
“Where is he?”
“Inside.”
I turned.
Eli was standing behind me.
He looked at the two men.
Then at me.
“Mara?”
“I don't know what to do.”
He shrugged.
“Maybe let the scary billionaire protect us.”
I glared at him.
“He is not a billionaire.”
“He owns half the city.”
“That's not how ownership works.”
“Still sounds billionaire-ish.”
The guard almost smiled.
I didn't.
Because something had changed.
The threat wasn't random anymore.
Someone had watched me.
Someone knew about Eli.
And someone had decided that the fastest way to reach Adrian Moretti might be through a broke waitress with forty-three dollars in her bank account.
At noon, Adrian called again.
“I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“I found the car.”
My blood went cold.
“And?”
“It belongs to a security company.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Who?”
His voice hardened.
“A man named Victor Hale.”
I knew that name.
Everybody who worked late in downtown knew it.
Victor Hale owned three clubs, several construction companies, and enough political connections to make investigations disappear.
Adrian continued.
“He used to work for my father.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why would he follow me?”
“That's what I'm going to find out.”
“Then find out without me.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
“You're already involved.”
“Because I kissed you?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Because they saw you.”
That afternoon, Eli's physical therapy appointment was canceled.
The clinic claimed the therapist was sick.
But when I called the office, the receptionist whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Someone called earlier and told us not to treat your brother.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they say?”
The receptionist hesitated.
“They said your brother was leverage.”
I hung up.
Then I called Adrian.
“I'll meet you.”
He answered immediately.
“Where?”
“Your office.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want you anywhere near my office.”
“Then where?”
A pause.
“My house.”
I stared at the phone.
“That sounds worse.”
“It is safer.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
For the first time, I heard a faint laugh.
“Come anyway.”
I agreed.
And when I arrived at his mansion that evening, I saw something I hadn't expected.
Adrian Moretti looked worried.
Not for himself.
For me.
Adrian arrived at our building before sunrise.
I knew because the downstairs neighbor called me.
“There are expensive people outside.”
I looked through the peephole.
Three black vehicles.
Four men.
And Adrian.
He stood beneath the awning with a coffee in one hand, looking completely out of place against the peeling brick and broken sidewalk.
I opened the door.
“You can't just come here.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Your building's rear entrance has no camera.”
I stared.
“You checked?”
“Yes.”
“You really need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies.”
“Name one.”
He considered.
“Solving problems.”
“That isn't a hobby.”
“It is when you're me.”
I wanted to be annoyed.
Instead, I almost smiled.
Eli appeared behind me.
“So you're the guy.”
Adrian looked at him.
“The guy?”
“The guy Mara kissed.”
I closed my eyes.
“Eli.”
“What?”
Adrian actually laughed.
It was the first time I'd heard him do it.
The sound changed his entire face.
“Nice to meet you.”
Eli held out his hand.
“I'm Eli.”
Adrian shook it.
“I know.”
Eli looked at me.
“Definitely creepy.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
Adrian's expression turned serious.
“Your brother should not go outside alone.”
Eli frowned.
“Why?”
“Because someone may be watching him.”
The joking disappeared.
Eli looked at me.
“Mara?”
“I know.”
Adrian reached into his coat.
He didn't pull out a weapon.
He pulled out a business card.
“Dr. Helen Ward.”
Eli read the name.
“Who's she?”
“A physical therapist.”
“I already have one.”
“You had one.”
Eli looked up.
“What happened?”
“Someone pressured the clinic.”
Eli's jaw tightened.
“Because of you?”
Adrian answered honestly.
“Possibly.”
Eli looked at me.
Then at Adrian.
“You're trouble.”
“Yes.”
“But you're helping.”
“Yes.”
Eli nodded.
“Okay.”
I stared at him.
“Okay?”
He shrugged.
“I'd rather have scary help than no help.”
Adrian looked at me.
“He's smarter than you.”
“I am standing right here.”
“So am I.”
The corner of Adrian's mouth lifted.
For a strange moment, we looked like a family.
The thought frightened me.
I stepped back.
“I need to get ready for work.”
“You're not going.”
“I have a shift.”
“Not today.”
“You can't tell me where I can work.”
“No.”
“Then stop trying.”
He studied me.
“Fine.”
I blinked.
“Fine?”
“I won't tell you.”
He walked toward the stairs.
“I'll ask.”
“Ask what?”
“If you'll let me protect you.”
I stared after him.
He turned at the landing.
“Mara, you don't have to say yes.”
Then he left.
I hated how much that mattered.
Later that afternoon, I met Dr. Ward.
She was patient, kind, and completely uninterested in Adrian's reputation.
Eli liked her immediately.
When the session ended, she said, “Someone paid your outstanding balance.”
I stiffened.
“Who?”
She smiled.
“No idea.”
I did.
Adrian.
I called him.
“You paid the clinic.”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to.”
“You told me you didn't want to owe me.”
“Exactly.”
“Then don't.”
“How?”
“Consider it a gift from an anonymous foundation.”
“That's not anonymous.”
“It is to the clinic.”
“Not to me.”
He was silent.
Then he said, “Would you rather your brother miss treatment?”
I hated him for making it impossible to argue.
“No.”
“Then let me do one useful thing.”
I closed my eyes.
“Fine.”
He exhaled softly.
“Thank you.”
I almost laughed.
“You're thanking me?”
“For letting me help without pretending you're weak.”
The line went quiet.
I realized then that Adrian understood something about me.
I didn't hate help.
May you like
I hated being pitied.
And somehow, he had figured out the difference.
