Chapter – 6

The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, but Emily felt no warmth from it. She’d barely slept — her mind looping endlessly around the shadowy figure, the watching eyes, and the single chilling sentence:

“You are not safe. Stay away from him.”

She had replayed the moment over and over: the silhouette standing motionless, the slip of paper left like a threat or a warning. She didn’t know which was more terrifying.

By the time she got dressed and went downstairs, the house felt too quiet — the kind of silence that made her chest tight.

Her mother was at the table reading the newspaper, but she wasn’t really reading. She kept glancing at the front door as though expecting it to open on its own.

Claire walked in moments later, eyes heavy, her hair twisted lazily into a bun.

“You look terrible,” Claire said softly.

“Thanks,” Emily muttered. “You too.”

Claire sat next to her, lowering her voice. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Barely.” Emily looked toward the window. “Claire… that figure last night — I wasn’t imagining it.”

Claire didn’t laugh or deny it. She nodded slowly, her face serious. “I know.”

Emily hesitated, glancing toward their mother, who was now pretending to read again.
“Should we tell Mom?”

“No,” Claire whispered immediately. “Look at her. She’s already on edge. If we tell her someone is leaving warnings on our porch, she’ll never leave the house again.”

Emily sighed, staring at her tea.
“What do we do then?”

“Find out who it was,” Claire said quietly.

The certainty in her voice startled Emily. Claire was usually calm, logical — not impulsive. But the fear from the previous night had carved something sharper into her.

Emily reached into her pocket and unfolded the note again.

Claire leaned in. “We have to figure out who wrote this.”

Emily stared at the messy handwriting, the uneven pressure, the aged paper. Something about it felt deliberate — like it came from someone who knew too much.

“At least it’s not anonymous,” Claire said.

Emily blinked. “It literally is anonymous.”

“No,” Claire whispered, tapping the words. “This isn’t a random threat. It’s personal. Someone knows you. They know Adrian. They know… something.”

Something.

That word settled like ice in Emily’s stomach.

She stood abruptly, folding the note and slipping it back into her pocket.
“I need to see him.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “Em — the note literally says stay away from him!”

“I know.” Emily grabbed her jacket. “But if someone is watching me, watching him, warning me… I need answers. And maybe he has some.”

Claire opened her mouth to argue — but stopped.

“Be careful,” she whispered instead.

“I will.”

Emily stepped outside. The morning air was biting cold, but it helped clear her head. She scanned the street automatically — no figure, no shadows lingering.

But the sense of being watched hadn’t left.

She hugged her jacket tighter and walked toward town.

Adrian was sitting outside the café.

A steaming cup rested between his hands, but he wasn’t drinking — he was staring at it, lost in thought.

For a moment, Emily hesitated.
What if the warning was real?
What if going to him was exactly what she shouldn’t be doing?

But Adrian looked up at that exact moment — as if he sensed her approaching — and their eyes met.

A quiet warmth flickered across his face.

“Emily,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I needed to talk to you,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite him.

His smile faded, replaced by an attentive stillness.
“What happened?”

She looked around first — scanning the tables, the street, the windows — then lowered her voice.

“Someone left a note at my house last night.”

“What kind of note?”

“A warning.”

His posture changed instantly — subtle, but sharp.
“What did it say?”

She didn’t break eye contact.
“It said: ‘You are not safe. Stay away from him.’”

Adrian’s jaw clenched. His hand tightened around his cup.

Emily watched him. “Do you know who it could be?”

He looked away — not in guilt, but in calculation.

“I have some guesses,” he said finally.

Emily’s breath caught. “So it is connected to you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But you need to believe me — I would never hurt you. Ever.”

Her chest tightened at the intensity in his voice. She didn’t feel afraid of him — not even for a moment. But she also knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

“Adrian… what are you not saying?”

He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair. When he met her eyes again, his expression was conflicted — like he was fighting something inside him.

“There are things from the past,” he said quietly, “things that involve families in this town. Old secrets. Hidden ones.”

Emily’s heart thudded painfully.

“Secrets connected to… my family?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

The café noise seemed to fade away. Emily felt suddenly cold.

Adrian lowered his voice further. “I came here because of an old case. An event that happened years ago. A disappearance. Maybe even—”

He stopped.
He’d said too much.

Emily leaned closer. “Adrian… what disappearance?”

Before he could answer, a shadow fell over their table.

Both of them turned.

A man stood behind Adrian. Black coat. Hood down. Unfamiliar face — sharp jawline, dark eyes that held something dangerous.

Emily’s heart dropped.

It was him.

The figure from the night before.

He leaned close to Adrian’s ear and said a single sentence, low enough that only they could hear:

“You shouldn’t be seen with her.”

Adrian’s face hardened.

“Leave,” Adrian said, voice cold, controlled.

The stranger smirked. “Tell her the truth, Hale. Or I will.”

Emily’s blood ran cold.

Adrian stood abruptly, fists clenched. “Walk away.”

The man stepped back slowly, eyes flicking toward Emily with unmistakable warning — almost pity.

Then he disappeared into the crowd.

Emily’s hands shook.
Her breath felt thin.

“Adrian…” she whispered, “what truth?”

Adrian didn’t sit back down. He looked at her with a mix of fear, pain, and resolve — emotions he had spent too long burying.

“Emily,” he said softly, “I need you to trust me. This is bigger than either of us. And I’m afraid you’re already… involved.”

She swallowed. “Involved in what?”

He took a slow, unsteady breath.

“Emily… the box in your attic?
It wasn’t forgotten.”

Her heart stopped.

“Someone hid it there,” Adrian continued.
“Because of who your mother used to be…
and what she ran from.”

Emily stared at him, her chest tightening, her world shifting.

“My mother?” she whispered. “What are you saying?”

Adrian met her eyes — finally ready to break the truth open.

“Emily…” he said softly.

“Your mother wasn’t who she claimed to be.”