Harper didn't sleep that night.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the heater doing little to drown out the unease curling in her stomach. Eli's—Ian's—face hovered in the shadows of her thoughts, his polite smile stretched a little too perfectly, his questions too specific, too… strategic.
He'd known her favorite tea. Her walking route. The exact time she usually got off work.
It could be coincidence. Or charm.
But deep down, she didn't believe in coincidences anymore.
By morning, she had started double-checking the locks. Twice.
Sofia and Naomi took the long way to school, walking a path that curved behind the track field, avoiding the usual crowds. Their backpacks were heavy, but the weight on Sofia's shoulders wasn't from books. Her phone was off. She hadn't touched it since the night before.
They ducked under a rusted metal awning by the tennis courts. It was private enough—hidden from view but not suspicious.
Naomi flipped open a lined notebook. Her handwriting was hurried, but focused.
"Okay. Let's start with what we know," she said. "His real name is Ian. Not Eli. He's been near your house. He's been watching Harper. Maybe longer than you think."
"He pretended to work near my dad's company," Sofia murmured. "But I don't know if that was even real."
Naomi tapped her pen against her lip. "He knew Harper liked walking after dinner. He knew what she wore. What shampoo she used. Sofia—that's not just guessing."
"I gave him some of that," Sofia admitted, her voice cracking. "I thought I was in control. I thought if I fed him pieces, he'd leave her alone."
Naomi's eyes softened, but her voice stayed firm. "That was before. We're past that now."
She turned the page, revealing a list of names, dates, and usernames. "We don't have a last name yet. But if he's done this before, someone else might have reported him. And if we find them…"
Sofia blinked. "You want to find his past victims?"
Naomi looked up. "I want to find anything that gives us power. Right now, he has it all."
Sofia wrapped her arms around herself. "And if we don't?"
Naomi closed the notebook.
"Then we do something else. Something more dangerous."
Sofia hesitated. "Like what?"
"We bait him," Naomi said quietly. "We get him to slip up. And we record everything."
That afternoon, Harper barely touched her lunch.
She sat at the edge of the breakroom, poking at a salad that had long since wilted. Her coworkers were buzzing about some weekend retreat, but she couldn't focus.
Instead, her thoughts spiraled.
Ian hadn't messaged her all morning. For someone who had been so eager, so available, the silence was deafening.
She unlocked her phone. Typed: "How to tell if you're being manipulated in a relationship." Then deleted it. Rewrote it as "Dating red flags." Deleted that too.
What was she even doing?
Was she being paranoid—or was she finally catching up?
That evening, Sofia's phone buzzed. A secure message from Naomi.
ATTACHMENT: PDF File – "IAN MERCER: FLAGGED PROFILE"
She opened it with shaking hands.
NAME: Ian Mercer
AGE: 27
NO VERIFIED SOCIAL MEDIA
KNOWN ALIASES: Eli Thorne, E_Mercer7
PRIOR INCIDENTS:
• 2020: Harassment complaint filed at former workplace (case closed)
• 2022: Alleged trespassing; charges dropped after "insufficient evidence"
• 2023: Online impersonation report, linked to dating app activity
PATTERN: Establishes fast emotional connections, isolates target, seeks control through subtle coercion
Sofia's mouth went dry.
She hit call. Naomi answered instantly.
"Where did you get this?" Sofia asked.
"My cousin. Cybersecurity intern. I didn't give your name. Just the alias. He dug around."
Sofia's voice broke. "He's done this before."
"Yeah," Naomi said grimly. "And if we don't stop him, he'll do it again."
Silence passed between them like a slow-moving storm.
Then Sofia said, barely above a whisper, "We need a plan."
"We start recording everything," Naomi said. "Messages. Conversations. If we can catch him slipping, we build a case. Then we go to your dad. Or Harper. Or the police. But with proof."
Sofia nodded. "And if he escalates again?"
Naomi's voice dropped. "Then we escalate first."
For the first time in weeks, Sofia felt something stirring beneath the fear.
Not courage—at least not yet.
But defiance.
That night, Harper stood at her window, brushing her hair.
The wind tugged at the curtains. Her reflection looked pale, drawn. Something inside her whispered that something was wrong—that her instincts weren't lying.
Eli had smiled like a charmer, but his eyes hadn't smiled with him.
And Sofia—sweet, quiet Sofia—had been more withdrawn than ever. Jumping at shadows. Evading questions.
Harper touched the windowsill and stared into the darkness beyond it.
She hadn't told Jacob. Or Sofia.
But something was happening.
And she was going to find out what.
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