Chapter 19 Anthony
Anthony
Eli’s red BMW gleams under the moonlight as he pulls into the driveway.
The car is too flashy, too attention-seeking, just like him.
I watch him climb out, his movements jerky with the kind of tension that comes from a day of hiding who you really are.
He fumbles with his keys at the front door, disappears inside.
Lights flip on, first the entryway, then the kitchen.
Through the window, I can see his shadow moving, probably heading upstairs to the bedroom Lila no longer sleeps in. She’s safely tucked into her library.
I count to one hundred, giving him time to settle. Then I move.
The soft sand gives way to the pavement as I cross the street, keeping to the shadows.
My dark clothes blend with the night. The garage door is still open.
Eli always leaves it up for a few minutes when he gets home, like he’s too important to wait the extra seconds it takes to close. Arrogant fuck.
I slip inside, ducking below the windows of the house.
The space smells like Eli’s expensive cologne, sickly sweet and some type of cleaner, bleach maybe?
His car sits there, cooling with soft ticks.
I crouch by the rear bumper, retrieving the small magnetic tracker from my pocket.
It’s no bigger than a quarter, matte black and virtually undetectable unless you’re looking for it.
I slide beneath the car and reach up, feeling for the perfect spot along the frame.
My fingers find the metal ridge I’m looking for, and I press the tracker firmly into place.
Ten seconds in and out. I’m back in the shadows before the garage door starts to descend, probably triggered by Eli finally remembering to hit the remote inside.
As I retreat across the driveway to the dunes, my heart isn’t racing. This isn’t adrenaline—it’s purpose. Every move I make is calculated, designed to protect her. To watch over what’s mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
The wind shifts, bringing the scent of the ocean stronger now.
I take one last look at the house. Inside, Lila is living with a monster who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
I’ve seen the fear in her eyes when she thinks no one is watching.
The way she flinches at sudden movements.
The way she’s become a ghost in her own home.
I melt back into the darkness, heading toward my motorcycle parked three blocks away. No one notices me. No one ever does. Invisible to most, I’m just a shadow with more money than a God and enough resources to dismantle a man like Eli piece by piece.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Three days later, I’m standing in my townhouse overlooking Assateague Bay, a steaming cup of black coffee in my hand. The morning light bounces off the water, creating a gentle shimmer that does nothing to calm my mood. My phone sits on the marble countertop, the tracking app open and active.
The small red dot that represents Eli’s car hasn’t moved in eighteen hours.
It’s parked in an enclosed garage about sixty miles north, at a private residence that belongs to someone who doesn’t exist on paper.
I’ve had Dillian run the property records.
The owner is a shell company that traces back to another shell company.
Classic move for someone with something to hide.
I set an alert that will notify me the moment Eli’s car moves again. There’s no reason for him to leave his precious BMW in a garage when he could drive straight to GameStream headquarters. That’s where he told Lila he was going, another business trip to meet with the executives. Another lie.
I’ve never introduced myself to Lila’s husband.
He was never on my radar until I saw her.
Though I’ve watched him from a distance for months now.
He doesn’t know that the company he claims to visit regularly for “work” belongs to me.
He knows that GameStream only hosts executive events four times a year, and that the last one was two months ago.
But my company still seems to be what he uses to lie to his wife.
I remember spotting him there, in the corner of the hotel bar, his hand resting possessively on the lower back of a woman who wasn’t Lila.
Her dress was expensive, her laugh practiced.
I recognized the signs immediately, the way she leaned in at precisely the right moments, the calculated touches, a professional. Though, warmth never reached her eyes.
My suspicions were enough to have Dillian look into it.
As a police officer with access to resources I technically shouldn’t have, he’s invaluable.
It didn’t take him long to confirm what I already knew: the woman was a high-end escort using an alias.
According to Dillian’s investigation, she specializes in multi-day appointments, fly-away weekends with wealthy men willing to pay for her time and discretion.
I pick up my phone and dial Cainen. He answers on the first ring.
“Thought you might call,” he says, his voice slightly distorted by poor reception. “I’m in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia. Signal’s shit.”
“You still following her?” I ask, though I already know the answer. Cainen doesn’t do anything halfway.
“We’re heading to Texas next,” he says. “She’s camping at some state park tonight. Set up her little trailer right by a lake. She posted some pictures to her personal social media. She definitely doesn’t know that the wrong people can still see them.”
I can hear the possessiveness in his voice when he talks about Maeve. It mirrors something in me, something I recognize but don’t bother to analyze. We’re cut from the same cloth, Cainen and I.
“Eli’s car has been stationary for almost a day,” I tell him, getting to the point. “He told Lila he’s at GameStream headquarters for meetings.”
“And we both know that’s bullshit,” Cainen finishes for me.
“The car’s in a private garage registered to a ghost. He’s with someone, the same pattern as before. Goes away for a few days, comes back like nothing happened.”
There’s silence on the line for a moment, just the sound of wind whipping past Cainen’s microphone.
“You sure you’re not biased because he’s Lila’s husband?” Cainen finally asks. It’s a fair question. One I’ve asked myself.
“I trust my gut,” I reply, watching a heron glide low over the bay water outside my window. “Something isn’t right with him. Dillian’s investigation confirmed the escort last time. The patterns match. He’s cheating on her.”
“Definitely,” Cainen repeats, and I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Men who control and abuse their wives rarely stop at infidelity. “And you’re sure about the GameStream angle? No chance he could actually be there on legitimate business with another streamer?”
“I own the fucking company,” I remind him. “There are no executive meetings scheduled. He’s lying to her, and not even bothering to make it convincing.”
Cainen makes a sound of understanding. If anyone gets this, it’s him. His obsession with Maeve mirrors my fixation on Lila, though our methods differ. Where he’s chosen to follow his target across state lines, I’ve opted to dismantle the threat to mine.
“The Masquerade Halloween party is in two days,” I say, thinking out loud. “Based on his previous patterns, he won’t be back for at least three days. Gives me time to do some more digging.”
“You still planning to approach her at the party?” Cainen asks.
“Yes.”
“Be careful,” he warns, but there’s no judgment in his voice. “These things can get complicated fast.”
“Says the man stalking a woman in a camper across the country,” I reply dryly.
He laughs, a short, sharp sound. “Touché. At least I know what I am.”
“So do I,” I assure him.
“Did Dillian find anything on Micheal Vanderburg?” Cainen asks.
“No, actually. Only some small stuff. Possession of marijuana. These guys cover their tracks.”
“That’s surprising, since he was such an idiot in person. He must have someone else higher up.”
“We’ve got eyes on that forum now, thanks to you. It’s been a while since he went missing and no one has come forward.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. He’s never killed anyone before. Since he’d decided to take this guy out, he had to have seen more than just what was on his phone in Micheal’s eyes.
After we hang up, I turn back to the bay window. The water is calm today, deceptively peaceful. I check the tracker app one more time. Still no movement. Eli is where he wants to be, with who he wants to be with, telling whatever lies makes his life easier.
I set my phone down and move to my desk, opening my laptop to the security footage from outside Lila’s house.
The cameras Eli placed outside angles a the deck give me perfect visibility of her favorite places to sit outside.
I watch as she emerges onto the porch with a book in her hand, another romance novel, from the look of the cover.
She settles into a chair facing the ocean with a warm blanket, pulls her knees up to her chest, and begins to read.
Even from here, I can see the relief in her posture. Eli is gone, and she can breathe again. For now.