Chapter 6 - The Man Who Was Watching Me
The door handle moved again.
Slowly.
Once.
Then stopped.
I stood frozen in the middle of my apartment.
My phone was still pressed against my ear, but the call had already ended.
The stranger's voice was gone.
The warning remained.
HE KNOWS YOU.
I looked at the door.
Every instinct told me to run.
But my body didn't move.
Because I was tired of running.
For two days, everyone had been making decisions about my life.
Daniel decided he could leave.
Rachel decided she could destroy my trust.
Michael decided he needed to protect me without telling me the truth.
And now some stranger believed he could scare me inside my own home.
I slowly walked toward the door.
Not because I was brave.
Because I needed answers.
I reached for the lock.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
From Michael.
"Don't open the door."
I stopped.
My fingers were still touching the lock.
How did he know?
I turned around.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
I typed back.
"Where are you?"
The reply came instantly.
"Outside."
My heart dropped.
I looked toward the door.
Then back at the message.
"You've been here?"
Another message appeared.
"I came because I knew they would find you."
I stared at those words.
They should have made me feel safe.
Instead, they made me angry.
Because once again...
Someone knew something before me.
I unlocked the door.
Michael was standing in the hallway.
His expression changed the second he saw my face.
"You opened it."
"Yes."
"Claire—"
"No."
I stepped back.
"You don't get to walk in here like you are saving me."
His face tightened.
"I was trying to."
"From who?"
He didn't answer.
And that was enough.
"Exactly."
Michael looked exhausted.
"Can I come inside?"
I wanted to say no.
I really did.
But then I remembered the photo.
The message.
The stranger.
I stepped aside.
He entered.
But I didn't offer him a seat.
I didn't offer him coffee.
I didn't pretend things were normal.
"Start talking."
Michael looked at me.
"About what?"
I almost laughed.
"Everything."
He stayed quiet.
"The flash drive."
His expression changed.
"You opened it."
"Yes."
"And you saw Daniel's video."
I froze.
"You knew about it?"
Michael looked away.
That answer hurt more than anything.
"You knew."
"Claire, listen—"
"No."
My voice shook.
"You don't get to say listen."
I pointed toward the laptop.
"You knew my husband left something behind."
"I suspected."
"You knew there were files."
"Yes."
"You knew someone was watching me."
"Yes."
Each answer felt like another piece of my life falling apart.
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
Michael finally looked at me.
"Because I didn't know who I could trust."
I stared.
"Not even me?"
He didn't answer.
And that silence was painful.
Because it was the answer.
I walked toward the window.
For a moment, I didn't recognize myself.
Two days ago, I was Claire Bennett.
A wife.
A professional.
A woman who believed she understood her own life.
Now I was standing in my apartment questioning every person around me.
"What was Daniel involved in?"
Michael sighed.
"Daniel was working with a group of investors."
"That sounds normal."
"It wasn't."
He took the flash drive from the table.
"Six months ago, Daniel discovered money was being moved through several companies."
"Stolen?"
"Possibly."
"And he was involved?"
Michael shook his head.
"No."
I looked at him.
"Then why run?"
"Because he found out who was behind it."
I waited.
Michael hesitated.
Then said:
"Your father."
I felt like the air disappeared.
"What?"
"Your father was connected to the company."
"No."
The word came out immediately.
Without thinking.
"My father has nothing to do with this."
Michael didn't argue.
"I know you want to believe that."
"Because it's true."
"Claire."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You don't know my father."
"I know what the records show."
I looked at him.
"What records?"
Michael opened his laptop.
He showed me a document.
Names.
Dates.
Transactions.
I scanned the page.
Then I saw it.
My father's name.
My hands started shaking.
"No."
Michael watched my reaction.
"I didn't want you to find out this way."
I looked at him.
"Then why did you let me?"
"Because you deserve the truth."
The words sounded right.
But I couldn't trust them.
Not anymore.
"How long have you known me?"
Michael went silent.
A little too long.
"Michael."
"Six months."
My heart sank.
"Six months?"
He nodded.
"That's when I started investigating Daniel."
"And you saw me."
"Yes."
"And you never said anything."
"No."
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because I wasn't sure if you were involved."
The honesty hurt.
But it also felt different.
Michael wasn't trying to make himself look better.
He was admitting something ugly.
"I thought you might know."
"About what?"
"The money."
I laughed quietly.
"You thought I was part of it?"
"I didn't know."
I looked around my apartment.
At the place where I had built my life.
At the place where someone had secretly entered.
At the place where every answer seemed to reveal a bigger lie.
Then I remembered something.
"The photo."
Michael looked at me.
"What photo?"
"The one Rachel sent."
I opened my phone.
The image of Daniel and Rachel in the parking garage.
"Why did she send this?"
Michael looked carefully.
Then his face changed.
"Wait."
"What?"
He zoomed in.
Near the corner of the photo was a car.
A black sedan.
Michael became completely still.
"What?"
"That car."
"What about it?"
"I've seen it before."
"Where?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he grabbed his phone.
He opened his photos.
Scrolled.
Then showed me.
A picture from months earlier.
A black sedan.
Parked outside a building.
The same one.
My stomach tightened.
"Whose car is it?"
Michael looked at me.
"I don't know."
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Neither of us moved.
Finally, Michael answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then his face changed.
"Where?"
I watched him carefully.
"Okay."
He ended the call.
"Who was that?"
He didn't respond.
"Michael."
He looked at me.
"That was Rachel."
My heart jumped.
"What did she say?"
He hesitated.
Then whispered:
"She said Daniel was never supposed to leave with her."
I stared.
"What?"
Michael grabbed his jacket.
"We need to go."
"Go where?"
"To find Rachel."
I didn't move.
"Why?"
Because his next words changed everything.
"Because she said the person who planned all of this is coming for you tonight."
I felt cold.
"Who?"
Michael opened the door.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
And said:
"Someone who already has a key to your apartment."
I turned toward the living room.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then my phone lit up on the table.
A new message appeared.
From an unknown number.
A photo was attached.
I opened it.
And my blood went cold.
It was a picture of Michael and me standing inside my apartment.
Taken from behind us.
A few seconds ago.
May you like
And beneath the photo were four words:
"He's standing behind you."
