The moment Sofia saw Ian laughing with Harper outside the bookstore, something inside her broke.
He was charming, composed, completely unlike the version she knew—the one who slid into her room at night with threats and smiles that didn't reach his eyes. Harper, oblivious to it all, smiled back, head tilted as she listened to him talk about some obscure author.
Later that night, Sofia sat cross-legged on Naomi's bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
"He's getting closer," Sofia whispered. "It's like she doesn't even remember meeting him at the office. Or maybe she never noticed him there."
Naomi's jaw clenched. "That's the scary part. He's smart. He plays the long game."
"He asked me to steal her journal," Sofia confessed. "He said he wants to understand her better. But I said no. I said no."
Naomi's eyes widened. "He wants her journal?"
Sofia nodded. "He said I owe him. That it's harmless. Just words."
Naomi stood and began pacing. "Okay. No more waiting around. We need to end this. For good."
"How?" Sofia's voice cracked. "If I go to the police, he'll send everything. All the screenshots, the recordings, the video of me taking her key—everything. He's probably got it all backed up."
Naomi bit her lip. "Then we don't go to the police yet. We make him slip. We make him mess up."
Sofia looked up. "You want to trap him?"
"Exactly. If we get proof—real proof—of him stalking Harper or blackmailing you, we can go to someone. Your dad. Harper. Hell, a lawyer. But we need to be careful."
Sofia swallowed. "He's too careful."
Naomi's gaze sharpened. "Then we'll be smarter."
They stayed up late that night, scribbling out plans. Naomi suggested they track his number. Sofia offered to try and bait him into sending a threat in writing again. They talked about Harper's schedule, Ian's patterns, how often he messaged Sofia and when.
But no plan felt safe enough. Not yet.
"He won't stop on his own," Sofia said, her voice low. "I think he actually believes she belongs to him."
Naomi met her gaze. "Then we'll make sure he learns otherwise."
The next few days moved with a cruel slowness. Every time Sofia came home, she had to brace herself for the sound of Harper's voice saying, "Ian stopped by today," or "Eli texted—he found that book I was talking about!"
Worse was hearing Harper laugh. The same laugh she used when Jacob told dumb jokes. The same laugh she used with Sofia when she brought home her favorite pastries or left her cute notes in her lunchbox.
It belonged to someone who trusted too easily. Who had no idea she was being watched.
"His name isn't even Eli," Sofia muttered one afternoon as she and Naomi walked home from school, voices low. "And she has no clue."
Naomi sighed. "She thinks he's some bookish tech guy who shares her weird obsession with historical thrillers."
"He's mirroring her," Sofia said. "Everything she likes, he suddenly likes. He listens when she talks, compliments her opinions. It's all fake."
Naomi glanced sideways. "But it's working."
Sofia's throat tightened. "Yeah. It is."
That night, Harper sat on the porch, scrolling through her phone. Sofia lingered inside, watching through the screen door.
Harper smiled faintly, texting someone. Probably him.
Sofia stepped out, her voice soft. "Harper?"
Harper looked up. "Hey, sweetie. Couldn't sleep?"
Sofia sat beside her. "You've been talking to Eli a lot."
Harper nodded. "Yeah. He's… sweet. Thoughtful. I know it might be too soon for me to be interested in someone, but…" She hesitated. "I don't know. He feels safe. Kind."
Sofia forced a smile. "That's good."
Harper squeezed her hand. "You know I'd never bring someone into our lives who didn't deserve it, right? Especially after how long it took us to get here."
Sofia's stomach churned with guilt. "Yeah. I know."
Later that night, Naomi FaceTimed her in a whisper.
"Okay, I think I've got something," she said, flipping the camera to show her laptop screen. "If you can stall him, get him to message you while screen-recording—I've installed a keystroke tracker. If he types it, we'll catch it. Even if he deletes it after."
"I can try," Sofia said, rubbing her face. "But he's getting suspicious. He said I've been 'distant.'"
"That's good. Means he's worried. You just need to keep playing along—just long enough for us to nail him."
Sofia nodded, jaw tight. "I'm scared."
"I know," Naomi said. "But we're doing this together, okay? You're not alone anymore."