Chapter 3 #2
She locked the door and exhaled, rubbing her temples before getting into her car. She told herself not to think about it, but her mind kept circling the same question:
Why?
Izzy had never been a talker. He was the kind of man who moved without explaining, acted without clarifying. Cold like that. All action. No accountability. So why now? Why show up out of nowhere? And why bring the very woman he cheated with into her space?
What was the point?
The drive to the market was short, but her thoughts raced the entire way. As she pulled into a parking spot, irritation clung to her like static. She shut the engine off just as her phone buzzed.
Normally, she would’ve ignored it.
Lately, every notification felt like another problem waiting to be dealt with.
She glanced down anyway.
An email.
From the real estate agent—the one who had helped her secure the shop.
Her stomach tightened before she even opened it.
She read the message once.
Then again.
Izzy had made an offer.
Not just an offer—an aggressive one. More than what she’d originally offered. Enough to turn heads. Enough to raise questions.
Her hands went cold.
And then she saw the line that made her feel physically sick.
Co-owner: Jenna.
Becca stared at the screen, pulse roaring in her ears.
No.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This was calculated.
He wasn’t just trying to hurt her. He was trying to take everything—the shop she built from nothing, the name she earned, the years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice poured into those walls.
Izzy had been an okay artist at best. A face. Charisma. Flash. Never substance. Never soul. He rode trends, rode attention—but he was never an artist.
So why?
Why work this hard to destroy her?
The lies.
The cheating.
The rumors.
Now this.
Becca leaned back against the seat, eyes stinging, chest tight.
What did I ever do to deserve this level of disgust?
This kind of betrayal?
Her mind kept circling one last question she couldn’t shake:
What does Izzy actually want from me?
And why did it suddenly feel like the answer was far more dangerous than she realized?
Becca locked her phone and set it face down on the passenger seat.
Tomorrow.
She didn’t have the energy to deal with Izzy tonight—not the email, not the offer, not the questions stacking up in her chest. If she called him now, she knew how it would go. Half-truths. Deflection. Silence wrapped in excuses.
The market parking lot was busy, lights buzzing overhead, people moving with purpose. Normal life. She needed normal.
Inside, she grabbed whatever her kitchen had been missing—produce, something frozen, coffee she didn’t remember running out of. Stress shopping, she thought bitterly. When she finally pushed the cart back outside, the cold air hit her face like a reset.
And then she saw Cassie.
Loading groceries into her trunk. Laughing at her phone. Casual.
Becca slowed.
She had no interest in fake concern or shallow conversation. Not after the club. Not after waking up alone and realizing no one had bothered to check if she was okay. No text. No call. Nothing.
Some friends.
She kept her head down and walked past, keys already in hand.
As she reached her car, something caught her eye.
A flash of white beneath the windshield wiper.
Her steps faltered.
Tucked carefully against the glass was a single lily. Fresh. Perfect. And folded beneath it—a small note.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
She glanced around the lot. Cars. People. No one watching. No one close enough to have just placed it there.
She slid the note free with trembling fingers.
“You’re so strong, Becs.
Remember who you are and where you come from”
Her breath hitched.
No signature.
No explanation.
Flabbergasted, she turned in a slow circle, scanning faces, rows of cars, shadows between light poles.
Nothing.
A chill crept up her spine.
She moved quickly then unlocking the car, sliding inside, locking the doors the second she was in. The lily and the note rested on the passenger seat like they belonged there. Like they’d been waiting.
She pulled out of the lot, hands tight on the wheel.
Her mind raced.
Who’s leaving me these flowers?
Who knows where I go?
Who calls me that?
The road blurred as her thoughts tangled.
By the time she reached home, one thing was painfully clear:
She wasn’t as alone as she thought.
And somehow… that scared her more than being by herself ever had.
Becca stood in the doorway of her kitchen longer than she needed to.
The house was warm, lights low, groceries half put away like she’d lost interest halfway through living. She set the bags down and leaned against the counter, eyes drifting to the small cluster of lilies resting near the sink.
The newest one joined the others.
She placed it carefully beside the rest, the note folded beneath it like it belonged there.
That was the problem.
It all felt like it belonged.
She poured herself a glass of wine—more out of habit than desire—and carried it to the table. The chair scraped softly as she sat, shoulders heavy, chest tight. The note lay between her fingers again, creased now from being read too many times.
You’re so strong, Becs.
Her jaw clenched.
No.
She didn’t like that name.
She never had.
Growing up, kids tried it once or twice. Becs. It always felt wrong in her mouth, like someone trying to claim familiarity they hadn’t earned. People close to her knew better. They called her Rebecca. Or Becca.
Never that.
She stared at the word like it might explain itself.
Her mind went where it had been circling all night.
Izzy.
Of course it was Izzy.
Who else would it be?
He was her last relationship. Her biggest mistake. The one currently trying to dismantle her life piece by piece—rumors, lies, now the shop. Buying it out from under her. Bringing Jenna into it like salt in a wound.
Ruining her… or trying to pull her back in?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Izzy had always been calculated in his own way—but he wasn’t subtle. He liked reactions. Confrontation. Control through chaos.
Flowers didn’t fit him.
Notes didn’t fit him.
Encouragement definitely didn’t.
Unless it was all another angle. Another manipulation.
Her phone sat on the table, screen dark.
She picked it up. Set it back down. Picked it up again.
There was only one person in this world who could cut through the noise in her head. One voice that existed before Izzy. Before the shop. Before all of this.
Inez.
Her childhood best friend. Her safe place. Her constant—until Becca left New York eight years ago and life stretched thin between them.
They didn’t talk often.
But when they did, it was like no time had passed at all.
Becca hovered her thumb over her contact.
What if she sounded stupid? Paranoid? What if this was nothing and she dragged Inez into her mess for no reason?
She exhaled slowly.
Across town, in a place Becca couldn’t see, Silas watched her through a wall of data and quiet observation.
The camera angles were clean. The audio feed steady.
He saw the way she paced. The way she touched the note without realizing it. The way her fingers trembled just slightly when she picked up her phone.
He heard the silence in the room.
He already knew about the email. The offer. Jenna’s name attached to it like a threat.
He’d known before Becca finished reading it.
When her phone finally rang out into the quiet, Silas leaned forward, eyes narrowing—not with concern, but focus.
Inez answered on the second ring.
“Becca?” Her voice carried surprise, then warmth. “Is that you?”
Becca closed her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “It’s me.”
Just like that, the dam cracked.
Silas listened as Becca spoke—about the shop, about Izzy showing up, about the girl he cheated with standing in her space like she owned it. He listened to the pauses. The breaths she tried to steady. The way her voice faltered when she mentioned the offer to buy her out.
He cataloged every detail.
And when Becca finally said, “I don’t know who to trust anymore,” Silas felt something dark and resolute settle in his chest.
She didn’t know it yet.
But she didn’t have to trust anyone else.
He was already there.
Watching.
Listening.
Protecting.
And soon—very soon—someone was going to make a move that proved just how necessary that protection was.
3
Becca woke up with the feeling that something had already happened.
Not a dream.
Not a memory.
Just a pressure in her chest she couldn’t shake.
Morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and deceptive. Her house looked the same. Felt the same. Quiet. Still. But the calm didn’t reach her.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her face, the events of the night before settling back into place like weight.
Izzy.
Jenna.
The email.
The lilies.
And Inez.
The call replayed in fragments—Inez’s voice grounding her, reminding her who she’d been before the world started taking pieces. Before men like Izzy learned how to exploit her loyalty.
Becca swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Today, she decided, was for action.
No spiraling. No hiding.
She showered, dressed, pulled her hair back tight. By the time she grabbed her keys, she felt almost steady again.
Almost.
She didn’t notice the unfamiliar car parked two houses down.
Didn’t notice the way it pulled away once she left.
Shift: The World Moves Without Her
By the time Becca reached the shop, two things were already different.
The first was subtle—her real estate agent had emailed again.
The tone had changed. Less confident. More… cautious.
The second was impossible to ignore.
Her booking app lagged.
Appointments missing.
Others rebooked.
Her stomach dropped.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Someone was touching her life again.
Elsewhere...
Silas watched data scroll across his screen, jaw tight.
He’d anticipated this.
Izzy was sloppy when he panicked. Jenna was not.
The offer on the shop had been a probe.
This—this was pressure.
Silas made a call.
Then another.
Quiet ones. Efficient ones.