Chapter 25
Her
Monday morning hits harder than I expect.
The weekend at Maddie’s felt like a small, borrowed escape, hours spent talking about childhood memories, laughing over stupid stories, arguing about celebrity scandals while sharing takeout.
For a while, it let me forget the stalker.
Forget the rumors. Forget everything pressing in on me.
The moment I step back into the office, that relief disappears. This place feels familiar, but not safe.
Anxiety floods back in, sharp and relentless, settling in my chest as I walk toward my desk. The whispers haven’t stopped. Every glance feels loaded, every interaction edged with judgment, and the contrast between the warmth of the weekend and this cold reality leaves me exposed and unsteady.
I tell myself to hold it together. Quitting isn’t an option. This job is one of the few solid things left in my life, and I need it. Need the routine, the structure, the illusion of normalcy.
Still, the fear of more rumors or another confrontation twists my stomach until I feel slightly sick. My hands shake, and I clench them into fists, forcing myself to breathe.
I don’t even make it to my chair when Sarah rushes toward me, her face tight with urgency. One look at her expression makes my heart drop.
Something has happened, something big, and the way she’s looking at me makes a wave of dread crash over me as I wonder if, somehow, it’s about me.
"Iris." She says quietly, glancing around the office. "Have you heard what’s going around? You should probably come take a look. People won’t stop talking about it."
I feel my heart skip a beat with sudden worry that makes my pulse race, confusion flooding through me as I try to read her face for any clues about what could be causing such a reaction.
"Heard about what?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "Sarah, what’s going on?"
Sarah grabs my arm gently but firmly, pulling me toward Hazel's desk without wasting a second, her grip conveying the seriousness of the situation.
"I can’t explain it properly." She says. "You need to see it. Talk to Hazel. She has everything. It’s all anyone’s talking about."
Fear races ahead of my thoughts, my pulse quickening as panic settles in my chest. My mind goes straight to Mike. Of course it does.
I convince myself he’s done something again. Started another rumor, dug up something from my past, maybe even leaked the video to humiliate me further. The thought makes my stomach twist.
"Is this about me?" I ask, my voice low but strained. I swallow hard. "I really can’t deal with more bad news right now."
Sarah shakes her head as she guides me through the rows of desks, her grip light but insistent. "No. I swear, it’s not about you." She says quietly. "Just… come see. It’s insane."
We reach Hazel’s desk, and the scene there makes me slow.
Several colleagues stand gathered around her computer, their faces tight with shock and disbelief.
Some whisper to each other. Others stare at the screen like they can’t look away.
Whatever this is, it has the entire room buzzing in a way that makes my skin prickle.
"What’s going on?" I ask as I step closer, carefully easing my way through the small crowd.
Hazel looks up, her expression serious but controlled. "Iris, you’re here at the right time." She says. She gestures to her screen. "I got this email this morning. Take a look. It’s disturbing."
I lean in and see an email open on her computer. Attached is a scanned newspaper article, the print faded and the date old enough to make my brows knit together. Almost eight years ago. Confusion settles in as I skim the headline.
"What is this?" I ask quietly.
Hazel exhales. "It’s about a man named Andrew Sanders." She says. "He was tried years ago on child molestation charges. The case fell apart because of lack of evidence, and he walked free."
A strange pull tightens in my chest as I read more closely. The accusations, the drawn-out trial, the acquittal that left too many questions unanswered. "This is from almost eight years ago." I say. "Why is it coming up now?"
Hazel clicks on another attachment beneath the article. "Because this was sent with it. There’s a video. Supposed evidence from back then." She looks at me. "You should watch it. It changes everything."
A knot tightens in my chest as I click on the video, curiosity and dread twisting together in a way that makes my hands feel unsteady. The moment it starts playing, horror slams into me.
The footage is grainy but there is no mistaking what is happening. The video appears to show a man engaging in inappropriate conduct with a young child. The act is unmistakable. Real. Deliberate. My stomach turns violently as the truth sinks in.
"Oh my God." I whisper, my voice barely holding together. "This is… this is awful."
Disgust crawls up my spine, followed by a surge of anger so sharp it makes my chest ache. The reality of what I’m seeing settles in slowly, each second worse than the last.
Then my eyes lock onto the man’s face. The video freezes on a clear frame, and recognition hits me like a physical blow.
My breath leaves me all at once, my heart slamming so hard it feels like it might break through my ribs.
I stare, unable to look away, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes are telling me.
"That’s Mike." I say, my voice shaking. I swallow hard. "How is this possible?"
"That’s exactly why everyone’s freaking out." Sarah says. "It has to be him. The video proves it."
Hazel gives a slow, grim nod. "It looks like he changed his name after the trial." She says carefully. "Probably to disappear. Start over somewhere new without his past catching up to him."
Anger burns hot in my chest as the pieces fall into place. "Who would send this now, after all these years?"
Hazel scrolls through the email, searching for anything that might give us a clue. "The sender’s anonymous." She says. "No traceable address. But the evidence is strong enough that we can’t ignore it." She looks up. "I’m contacting the police."
Around us, voices rise in disbelief and outrage. "This is insane." Tom mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I worked with him for years. Ate lunch with him. I never suspected anything like this."
Sarah shudders. "It’s terrifying." She says. "Knowing he was here every day, acting normal, joking around like nothing was wrong."
As the conversations blur together, my attention drifts back to the email. Something small catches my eye. Something that doesn’t belong.
Beside the newspaper article, barely noticeable at first, lies a single iris flower. Delicate. Intentional. My stomach drops.
Cold recognition spreads through me.
The image of the crime scene near my neighborhood flashes through my mind. The drunk man’s body, the report I worked on, the iris placed beside him like a signature. My hands start to tremble.
"Is this connected?" I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.
The thought takes hold and refuses to let go. The stalker. The flower. Mike being exposed now. A sick sense of pattern forms in my mind, filling me with dread.
Hazel notices my expression and steps closer. "Iris, are you okay?" She asks gently.
I nod slowly, forcing myself to speak. "I’m just… trying to process it." I say.
Even if Mike really is Andrew, it doesn’t explain why he targeted me.
Eventually, people drift back to their desks, but the weight of everything stays with me. Anger simmers beneath my skin. Anger at Mike, at what he hid, at the harm he caused. There’s relief too, knowing he’s finally exposed. But the fear doesn’t fade. The iris won’t leave my mind.
Back at my desk, I can’t focus. The flower replays in my thoughts over and over, tightening the knot in my chest. The same symbol in two different places. Too deliberate to ignore. My pulse quickens as darker possibilities surface.
I tell myself it’s a coincidence. That I’m reading too much into things because fear has sharpened my instincts into something unreliable. Still, the thought refuses to leave.
Was this planned? Is this his way of removing threats from my life? Protecting me in his own twisted way? But if he was the one who pushed Mike to spread those rumors about me, why would he do something that contradicts it?