Chapter 4 Whispers in the Dark

The night seeped into Elena's soul as she stood frozen by the window, phone still in her trembling hand. The distorted voice echoed in her mind: You should have stayed away. Her gaze darted around the dimly lit street below, searching for any sign of movement, any shadow that seemed out of place. But the world outside appeared indifferent to her turmoil, the streetlights casting a serene glow on empty sidewalks.

Her breathing quickened. Whoever had called her knew more than they should. And the way they had spoken her name-it wasn't just a threat. It was a promise.

Setting the phone down on the coffee table, she reached for the security system's tablet. The live feed from the cameras surrounding her apartment showed nothing unusual. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. After double-checking the locks, she forced herself to sit down and think.

Who could it have been? Ethan? No. His confrontational style didn't match the subtle menace of the call. Victor Hale? Possible, but their interaction at the gallery had been too brief for him to launch into psychological games. Then who? And why now?

Unable to find answers, she did the only thing she could: she armed herself. From the drawer beneath her coffee table, she retrieved a small, sleek pistol-a gift from her late father, given with the stern advice that every woman should know how to protect herself. The cold weight of the weapon in her hands brought a fleeting sense of control.

---

Ethan couldn't sleep. He paced his penthouse like a caged lion, replaying his conversation with Elena. Her eyes, her voice, her defiance-it all stirred emotions he thought he had buried. But it wasn't just the past that haunted him tonight. It was Victor Hale.

Ethan's jaw tightened as he stared at the glass of scotch in his hand. He had noticed Victor at the gallery, lingering near Elena like a predator sizing up prey. The thought of Victor dragging Elena into his web made Ethan's blood boil. He'd seen firsthand the lengths Victor would go to for power. If Victor was targeting Elena, Ethan had to act-fast.

Picking up his phone, he dialed a familiar number. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

"Reed."

"I need you to look into something," Ethan said without preamble. "Victor Hale. Find out why he's in town and what his connection is to Elena Ricci."

There was a pause. "You're not seriously going after Victor again, are you?"

"Just do it, Reed. And keep this quiet."

Ethan ended the call and set the phone down with a decisive clink. If Victor thought he could use Elena to get to him, he was about to learn how wrong he was.

---

The following day, Elena arrived at the gallery early, determined to lose herself in work. The routine tasks of inventory and client correspondence offered a welcome distraction from the unease that had settled over her like a fog. But as the morning wore on, a nagging feeling of being watched returned.

It wasn't until noon that she found the envelope. It was lying on her desk, plain and unmarked. Her pulse quickened as she opened it, revealing a single photograph. The image sent a chill down her spine.

It was of her and Ethan, taken years ago during one of their trips to Italy. They were laughing, their arms around each other, oblivious to the camera. The memory was bittersweet, but it was the message scrawled across the photo in bold red ink that froze her blood:

Some promises can't be broken.

Elena's hand shook as she stared at the photo. Someone had been in her gallery-someone who knew about her past with Ethan. But who? And what did they want?

Before she could dwell on it further, her phone buzzed. The caller ID read "Unknown." Her instinct screamed to ignore it, but curiosity won out.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice tight.

"Did you like my gift?" The distorted voice was back, taunting and calm.

"Who is this?" she demanded, her anger overtaking her fear.

The line went silent for a moment before the voice replied, "Someone who knows the truth. Be careful, Elena. The past has a way of catching up."

The call ended abruptly, leaving her with more questions than answers. She sank into her chair, clutching the photo, her mind racing. Whoever this was, they weren't just trying to scare her. They wanted something. But what?

---

By evening, Elena was no closer to solving the mystery. Exhausted and on edge, she decided to visit Sophia. Her best friend had a knack for cutting through the chaos and offering clarity. As she stepped out of the cab in front of Sophia's townhouse, she felt a momentary sense of relief. Here, at least, she was safe.

Sophia greeted her with a warm hug and a glass of wine. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, leading Elena to the cozy living room.

"It feels like I have," Elena admitted, recounting the events of the past two days. She showed Sophia the photo and told her about the phone calls.

Sophia frowned, her concern evident. "This isn't just someone messing with you. They're trying to get inside your head. Have you talked to Ethan about this?"

Elena shook her head. "He's the last person I want to involve."

"But what if he's involved already?" Sophia countered. "You said the photo is from your time together. Maybe this has something to do with him."

The suggestion made Elena's stomach turn. Could Ethan be part of this? No, she couldn't believe it. But as much as she hated the idea, she couldn't ignore the possibility.

---

That night, as Elena returned home, she found herself glancing over her shoulder, hyper-aware of every sound and shadow. Her apartment felt suffocating, the silence oppressive. She decided to stay awake, her pistol within reach, determined not to let fear consume her.

But as the hours dragged on, exhaustion took its toll. She drifted off to sleep in the armchair by the window, the gun resting in her lap. She dreamed of Ethan, of their laughter and promises, and of the betrayal that had torn them apart.

She awoke with a start, her heart racing. The room was dark, the only light coming from the city outside. But something felt off. The air was heavy, charged with an unfamiliar presence.

And then she saw it: a faint outline of a figure standing just beyond the glass balcony door, watching her.

---

Elena froze, her breath catching in her throat. The figure didn't move, its silhouette blending into the shadows. With trembling hands, she reached for her pistol, her heart pounding in her ears. She aimed it at the door and called out, "Whoever you are, you have five seconds to leave, or I swear I'll shoot."

The figure tilted its head, as if amused, and then-in one swift motion-it vanished into the night, leaving her alone with her racing heart and the haunting certainty that this was only the beginning.