Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO FOLLOWED HER HOME
Harper noticed the black sedan on a Wednesday night.
It was parked across from her apartment building.
Engine running.
Headlights off.
She told herself it was nothing.
Chicago had plenty of black sedans.
But the next night, it was there again.
And the next.
On Friday, she called Vincent.
He answered immediately.
“Harper?”
She hesitated.
“I think someone's watching my apartment.”
His voice changed.
“Are you inside?”
“Yes.”
“Lock the door.”
“Vincent—”
“Please.”
She did.
He asked for the license plate.
She read it from the window.
There was a pause.
Then:
“Stay inside. I'm coming.”
Twenty minutes later, the sedan disappeared.
Vincent arrived shortly afterward.
He looked furious.
Not at her.
At something she couldn't see.
“Who was it?” she asked.
He hesitated.
“Someone connected to a business dispute.”
Harper stared.
“Your business?”
He nodded.
Her stomach dropped.
“Because of me?”
Vincent looked away.
“Possibly.”
She stepped backward.
“I told you.”
His expression tightened.
“What?”
“That men like you don't give away money without consequences.”
He looked wounded.
“Harper—”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“I can't afford your world.”
He said nothing.
She opened the door.
“Please leave.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Before leaving, he turned.
“I'll make sure you're safe.”
Harper looked at him.
“Don't make promises you can't keep.”
May you like
Then she closed the door.
And cried until morning.
