8. Theo
8
THEO
T he day is still early, and I’m going over a few contracts in my office, the familiar hum of the house settling around me when Fiona, my assistant, comes in with the mail. She hesitates for a second longer than usual at the door, and that slight shift in her behavior puts me on edge.
She’s fidgeting nervously. She’s as composed as they come, always on top of things, never flustered. If she’s worried, it’s for a reason.
"Everything all right?" I ask, my tone casual, but I’m already narrowing in on the pile of letters in her hand, searching for what could have caught her off guard.
She smiles, tight-lipped. "You just have a few things today, but there’s… well…" She steps forward, placing the stack of envelopes on the desk, but one in particular sticks out immediately.
Fiona’s hand hovers over it before she pulls back, almost as if she doesn’t want to leave it behind.
A large manila envelope. No postage. No return address. My gut tightens.
"That came with the regular mail?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shakes her head. "No, it was on the doorstep when I came in this morning."
“On the doorstep? That’s not possible,” I hiss.
“I’m aware, sir. I advised Tad of it as well, so he’s checking the security footage now.”
“Thanks, Fiona.”
There’s no need to ask who it’s for. Across the front, written in sharp, deliberate letters, is Grace’s name. No doubt in my mind that whoever sent this hand-delivered it—probably in the middle of the night.
My security system is impenetrable. I have cameras and alarms. No one should have been able to get in to put this on the front porch without me or my security knowing the second he stepped foot on the premises.
My heart kicks into gear, and a cold wave of protectiveness rushes through me. I know I shouldn’t open it. I know I should wait, give it to security, and let them handle it.
But every instinct I have screams that I need to act now, to get ahead of whatever threat might be inside that envelope. Grace has been through enough already.
I reach for the envelope, ignoring the way Fiona’s eyes widen in surprise. My hands are steady, but inside, there’s a storm brewing. I tear it open carefully, and my breath catches as I pull out the contents.
“You can’t hide her forever.”
I reread it, feeling a slow burn of rage rising in my chest.
How did he find her?
I swallow hard and glance back at Fiona. She’s watching me carefully, her brows pinched. She knows. She’s been around long enough to pick up on the gravity of the situation without me having to explain.
"I need you to call Tad," I say, my voice low, referring to my head of security.
"Tell him to come up here now.
And see if he can get in touch with the police.
We’ll need them to check for prints or anything that can give us a lead."
Fiona nods and quickly slips out of the room, leaving me with the letter. My eyes skim over the words again, and bile rises in my throat.
This bastard, he’s gotten too close. And now he’s taunting me, taunting her.
I fold the letter carefully and slide it back into the envelope, stashing it in the desk drawer just as I hear footsteps approaching from the hallway.
Grace. She’s up earlier than usual, which immediately sends another jolt of anxiety through me. I close the drawer with a soft click, turning to face her as she steps into the room.
She looks… off. Her skin is pale, almost translucent, in the morning light, and her hands tremble as she holds her phone tight to her chest.
Her wide eyes land on mine, and my stomach sinks when I see the tears brimming, threatening to spill over.
"Theo," she whispers, her voice cracking. "He found me."
Everything in me goes still. Cold. I already know who she’s talking about but hearing her say it out loud makes it more real.
He didn’t just stop at the letter.
"What happened? Did he contact you?"
She nods. She hands me her phone, and I glance down at the screen. There are pictures. Dark, grainy pictures taken from the street.
Of my house.
The front gate. The driveway. Even the windows, as if he’s been circling the perimeter, searching for a way in.
She pulls her arms around herself, hugging tightly, as if she’s trying to keep from falling apart.
"He sent them this morning. I…I don’t know how he found me, but he knows, Theo. He knows I’m here."
I reach out, pulling her into me. She leans against my chest, trembling, and I run a hand through her hair, trying to soothe the fear that’s radiating off her in waves.
"He’s not going to get to you. This place is a fortress, Grace. He won’t get past security. You’re safe here."
But even as I say the words, I know they sound hollow. I know it’s a lie because he’s already gotten to the front porch.
How much further will he go?
This isn’t just about physical safety anymore. He’s already in her head, making her feel vulnerable, no matter how many walls or guards I put around her.
He’s in my head, too.
“Theo, he…he sent me pictures, I mean a video of us… ”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a grainy video of you…fucking me.”
Shit.
“That’s impossible. How would he have that?”
“I don’t know. Did you…” she starts.
Fiona walks in the room. "Tad’s on his way. He’ll be here in five."
"Good," I say, my hand still resting on Grace’s back. "I’ll make sure this gets handled quickly."
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation.
"What if he gets in? What if…"
"He won’t," I cut her off. "He won’t get near you. I’ll make sure of it."
There’s a knock at the door, and Fiona opens it, letting Tad in. He’s tall, built like a tank, and every bit the professional I need right now.
His eyes dart between Grace and me, immediately picking up on the tension.
“We’ve got a situation,” I say, gesturing to the desk.
“The stalker sent Grace texts from an anonymous number—along with pictures of my home. Looks like they were taken from outside, looking in.
And there’s more. He had a letter delivered. No postage.
It’s from him.”
Tad’s jaw tightens, and he steps forward, pulling on a pair of gloves from his jacket pocket before retrieving the envelope. He scans it quickly before nodding.
“I’ll get this to the police,” he says, his voice low and professional.
“We’ll see if they can pull any prints or figure out where it came from.
In the meantime, I’ll tighten security around the house. No one gets in or out without me knowing.”
Grace shivers in my arms, and I tighten my grip on her.
"What about the pictures?" she asks, her voice trembling. "He sent me pictures of the house. And…"
“Is it possible that he knows how to tap into my security cameras?”
“Anything is possible. He’s got to be pretty intelligent to be able to elude the police this long.”
“Can we do something so he can’t do it again?”
Tad frowns. “I’ll do my best.
I need to see your phone. I’ll try to track the number down if I can.
We’ll set up some decoy surveillance to catch anyone lingering outside, and I’ll make sure our cameras have a wider range.
If he’s been hanging around, we’ll find him.”
Grace nods, though her eyes still carry that haunted look. The stalker isn’t just a threat anymore; he’s a shadow following her every move.
As Tad steps out to coordinate with his team, I guide Grace to the couch and sit beside her. Fiona quietly offers her a glass of water.
“Grace, we’re going to get ahead of this,” I say, trying to inject some calm into the situation.
“Tad’s the best in the business. I’ll call Devon, too.
I’ll have him and Sarah come to the house today so we can have a meeting about everything.”
She nods weakly, and I can see how drained she is. I hate that she has to live like this. That the stalker keeps finding ways to invade her life no matter where she goes.
I reach for my phone and dial Devon, each ring adding to the urgency pulsing through my chest. When he finally picks up, I waste no time. "Grace’s stalker found her again."
There’s a pause, and then Devon’s voice comes through. "I’ll be there right away. We need to get a handle on this before it escalates."
I hang up and look at Grace. Her hands are still shaking, her face pale. She’s staring at her phone like it’s about to explode, probably expecting another message to pop up any second.
"Hey," I say softly, pulling her back into me. "We’re going to get through this. I promise you."
She doesn’t respond, just buries her face in my chest, her body shaking with silent sobs. And all I can do is hold her, trying to keep her safe from a threat that feels too close for comfort.
This bastard won’t get another chance to scare her. Not if I have anything to say about it.
“I’ll go have Harry make some lunch, sir,” Fiona says as she scurries off nervously.
Devon and Sarah arrive just after Tad finishes his initial sweep of the house. His black SUV rolls smoothly up the long driveway, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
But everything feels tense—like the air is charged with something unseen, heavy, and dangerous.
I’m standing by the window, one hand in my pocket, the other drumming an anxious rhythm on the frame. Grace is sitting on the couch, her phone clenched tightly in her lap.
She hasn’t said much since the pictures came through. She doesn’t have to. I can read her silence, and see how the fear is wearing on her, making her feel exposed, even in a place that should feel safe.
And that’s what makes my blood boil.
This was the last option for a safe place for her.
I’ll charter a jet to take us to a private island if I need to, if that’s what keeps her safe.
"Devon’s here," I say softly, turning away from the window just as the front door opens, and Fiona shows him and Sarah in.
Tad follows close behind, his expression unreadable as always, but his eyes dart between all of us like he’s already assessing the room for threats.
Devon walks in, his typical laid-back demeanor gone. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line as he approaches Grace, crouching in front of her.
"Hey, Grace," he says, his voice calm and gentle. "You okay?"
She nods, but she’s not okay. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are trembling slightly even though she’s trying to keep it together. Sarah plops down next to her and pulls her into a side hug.
Devon stands back up, giving me a sharp look. "Tad filled me in," he says, standing tall, his tone serious. "This is escalating. Fast."
I nod, already on edge. "Too fast."
The thought of her stalker knowing where we are, lurking outside, watching… it’s unbearable.
And it’s unacceptable.
“We can leave the country. I have a few places that…”
“I’m not running from this son of a bitch anymore,” Grace says weakly.
“Let’s not do anything crazy, although we can keep that on the table as an option,” Devon interjects.
Tad steps up next, his calm voice cutting through the rising tension.
“We’ve done a preliminary check of the property. Nothing obvious—no signs of tampering at the gates or fences, and no unauthorized access logged in the security system. That’s a good thing.
But whoever sent those pictures didn’t just stumble upon this place. He’s been watching.
Which means we need to up the security around here. Immediately.”
“Sarah, why don’t you and Grace go downstairs to the kitchen? Fiona was having Henry cook up something to eat, and if I know the two of them, I’m sure there’s some pie and ice cream waiting for you.”
Grace opens her mouth to respond but closes it quickly. Sarah links their hands together, and the two of them leave the room. Once they’re gone, I close the door and turn around to glare at Tad.
“Tell me how that son of a bitch was able to drop that envelope on my front porch.”
“It’s a drone, sir. That’s what showed up on the security footage.
It’s how he got the pictures and how he dropped the envelope.
He’s a cocky bastard, too. Made sure the drone was right in front of the security cameras—like an ‘I see you’ gesture.”
“Cocky is good, though,” Devon interjects. “Cocky means that he’s going to fuck up sooner or later.”
My gut reaction is to throw everything I have at this. I look from Tad to Devon and fight the urge to take care of this myself.
Tad is the best in the business. Devon is also highly trained in this area. I couldn’t find anyone better to handle this,,; the two of them are a powerhouse together. If anyone can get a hold of this man, it’s them.
“We need more guards. More eyes.
Double the number on shift—hell, triple it. I don’t care what it costs.
I want this place locked down like Fort Knox.
We’ll upgrade the security system too. Top-of-the-line, everything—motion detectors, infrared cameras, real-time monitoring.
Anything we can do to make sure this bastard doesn’t get anywhere near her.”
Devon shifts slightly, his eyes flicking to Tad, who nods.
“I agree,” Tad says. “We can bring in more guards and tighten our perimeter.
The current system is decent, but I’ve been talking to some contacts who handle celebrity protection.
There are new systems out there that offer much better coverage.”
“Is there a way to block the drone’s signals?”
“I’ll set up geo-fencing so he can’t do it again. Military and airports use it a lot.”
“Whatever it takes.”
Grace and Sarah come back into the room, hearing the tail end of the conversation.
"Theo, this is already too much. I don’t want to live like a prisoner. I can’t."
I cross over to her, taking her hand in mine, my voice low but intense. "You won’t be a prisoner. You’ll be safe. That’s all that matters right now."
Her hand is cold, trembling in my grip, and I can see how tired she is, how drained this whole thing has made her.
"But it’s suffocating," she says quietly, her eyes pleading with me to understand. "I don’t want to be trapped."
I close my eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to tighten my grip, to hold her closer, and tell her we’ll figure this out. I get it—she’s terrified of losing her freedom, of feeling caged in by walls and cameras.
But every instinct I have is screaming to protect her, to wrap her in layers of safety until I know for sure that he can’t touch her.
How quickly I went from being annoyed as Hell by her and keeping my distance to not wanting to let her out of my sight.
"Grace," I say softly, trying to find the right balance. "This isn’t forever. It’s just until we figure out how he found you. Until we stop him."
Tad steps in. "Theo’s right. We can’t take chances right now. Whoever this guy is, he’s persistent, and we can’t afford to believe that he’ll stop at just sending pictures."
Devon nods, arms crossed, his face dark with concern. "We’re dealing with someone who feels entitled to her. This isn’t just a random obsession anymore. He’s planning something."
“Why do you say that?” Grace gasps.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Devon, of all people, should have known better than to say that in her presence.
“He went to a lot of links to find you. If this were a simple obsession type case, then he wouldn’t have put this much work into it.”
Grace’s eyes fill with tears again, her breath catching in her throat. "What if he tries to break in? What if he…"
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but we all know where it’s headed.
I feel a surge of anger, a deep need to take control of this, to fix it for her. I can’t stand seeing her like this—afraid, helpless. I look at Tad again.
"What about an on-site team? Around the clock."
Tad raises an eyebrow. "You mean like a live-in detail?"
"Exactly," I say, standing up, feeling the need to move, to do something. "We have the guesthouse. We can set up a team there. They’ll be here 24/7, ready to respond if anything happens."
Grace’s head snaps up, and I can see the protest in her eyes before she even speaks. "Theo, no. That’s too much. I don’t want people…I already feel like a burden, and I can’t…"
"Grace, I know it’s a lot. I know it feels overwhelming, but I’d rather have too much security than not enough. I can’t risk it."
Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t argue further. She knows as well as I do that this is bigger than her comfort. It’s her safety.
Devon jumps in.
“We can also look into more covert options—security that doesn’t feel like security.
Private detectives, maybe some investigative tech.
We need to figure out how he’s tracking her. There’s no way he just stumbled on her location.
I’ve been checking her phone regularly for spyware, and she’s not posting on social media.”
Grace’s eyes flick to him. "You think he’s… hacked something? Tracked my phone?"
He shrugs, but his face is serious.
"It’s possible. We need to cover all the bases.
If he’s tech-savvy, we’re talking about a different kind of threat.
It’s not just about physical protection; we need to get into the digital side of things too."
“There’s an app called Signal,” Tad adds. “A lot of military members use it overseas because it encrypts their location.
I don’t care who he is—if you start using it from now on, he shouldn’t be able to track anything.”
He pauses, his tone firm. “I’ll check your phone and your laptop.
It’s not like he’s using something as simple as an AirTag. Your Bluetooth settings would’ve picked that up.
They’re designed to alert you if one that’s not registered to you is following you.”
“I want her phone, her email, her laptop, everything checked. If he’s left a digital trail, I want to know about it."
Tad pulls out his phone, typing out a message as he speaks. "I’ll get someone on it right away. We’ll comb through her accounts and run security checks on everything."
Grace lets out a shaky breath. I hate that I can do nothing to stop it right now except throw everything I have into protecting her.
"We’ll make sure he can’t touch you."
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the flicker of trust there, but it’s shadowed by fear. She doesn’t believe it yet. And I don’t blame her. Not after everything she’s been through.
"I don’t know how much more I can take," she whispers, barely audible. "I feel like he’s everywhere, like he’s always watching."
I swallow hard, my chest tightening with a mix of anger and helplessness. "You won’t have to go through this much longer," I promise her. "I’ll make sure of it."
Devon steps in again.
"In the meantime, we need to get a message out to the media.
We control the narrative and make it clear that she’s protected.
Whoever this guy is, he needs to know that the whole world will be watching if he tries anything."
Grace tenses beside me, and I know why. She hates the idea of drawing more attention to herself, especially with something this personal. But it might be the best move right now.
"We’ll be careful with the messaging," Devon adds quickly, noticing her hesitation. "But the public pressure could work in our favor. Make him think twice before escalating."
She nods slowly, clearly not thrilled but understanding. "Okay," she says softly. "But I don’t want my life to turn into some spectacle."
"It won’t," I assure her. "We’ll keep it under control. Devon will handle it."
"I’ll put together a draft and run it by you before anything goes out."
The room falls quiet for a moment. There’s so much at stake, and I can see how drained Grace is and how much this is taking out of her. I kneel beside her again, taking both hands in mine, my voice softening.
"We’re going to get through this, Grace. I swear to you."
She looks into my eyes, her own brimming with unshed tears, and I can see the cracks in her resolve. But then she nods, squeezing my hands tight.
"I trust you," she whispers.