Chapter 8 It Was Gone

Evelyn's POV

The note burned in my pocket like a live coal. Every time I moved, I felt its weight, its sharp edges digging into my side as if to remind me it existed.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the crumpled piece of paper now spread on the nightstand. The bold black letters were stark and unforgiving.

"You're making a mistake. Stay in your place, or you'll regret it."

I read the words over and over, searching for some hidden meaning, some clue that would point me toward its author. But nothing about it gave anything away. No signature, no smudges, nothing.

A thousand questions swirled in my mind. Who had sent it? Dana seemed like the obvious suspect, but the directness of the note didn't match her style. She preferred manipulation through subtlety, not outright threats. Caleb? Unlikely. He had too much pride to resort to anonymous notes.

The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snapped me out of my thoughts. I peered out the window to see my father stepping out of his car, looking tired as he locked it and walked toward the front door.

Quickly, I shoved the note back into my pocket. I wasn't ready to share it with anyone yet-not until I had more answers.

"Evelyn?" my father called as he entered the house.

"In my room!" I replied, trying to sound normal.

A few seconds later, he knocked gently on my door before pushing it open. His face softened when he saw me sitting there, and he gave me a small smile.

"Long day?" he asked.

I nodded, forcing a smile in return. "Yeah, just tired."

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. "You sure you're okay? You look... distracted."

"I'm fine, Dad," I said quickly, standing up and brushing past him. "I think I'll go make some tea."

I headed to the kitchen, needing a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. The process of boiling water, choosing a tea bag, and pouring it into a cup gave me something to focus on.

But as I sat at the table, staring into the steaming liquid, the unease crept back in.

Whoever sent that note wanted me to feel scared, powerless. But I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

My phone buzzed, jolting me. I glanced at the screen to see a text from Caleb.

"Can we talk? It's important."

I clenched my jaw. Of course, he'd pick now to reach out. Ignoring him wasn't an option-not yet, anyway. He might know something about the note. I could find out my reading his body language.

"Fine. Where?" I typed back.

His reply came almost immediately. "My place. Come now?"

I stared at the message, debating whether or not to go. Part of me wanted to march over there and demand answers. Another part of me wanted to stay far away from him and whatever drama he was dragging me into.

But curiosity won out.

I arrived at Caleb's apartment, feeling uneasy as I stepped up to the door. He opened it almost immediately, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Evelyn," he said warmly, stepping aside to let me in.

I entered cautiously, my eyes darting around the familiar space. The clean lines, the abstract art, the faint scent of his cologne-it was like stepping back in time, and I hated it.

"What do you want, Caleb?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

He shut the door and turned to face me, his expression softening. "I wanted to see you. To talk about us."

"There is no 'us,'" I said firmly. "Not anymore."

He took a step closer, his smile fading. "Don't say that. We've been through too much to throw it all away."

"You threw it away the moment you...," I held myself back from completing the statement. I was this close to spilling it all and ruining the entire thing.

He flinched, wondering what I wanted to say so badly. "Did something happen, Evelyn? Did you find out something? You can always talk to me about it, you know? I still love you and I promise to hear you out and resolve whatever it is. I can't just let you go."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Love? Don't insult me, Caleb. You don't know the meaning of the word."

His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," I shot back. "I don't trust you, Caleb, and I never will until you prove yourself. This-whatever we had-and yes I said we could fix things, and you could become my fiancé again, but you have to show yourself worthy."

I turned toward the door, but before I could reach it, he grabbed my arm.

"Wait," he said, his voice lower now, almost pleading.

"Let me go," I said, glaring at him.

"Evelyn, please. Just listen to me," he said, his grip tightening.

"What do you want, Caleb?"

"I want to know how I can prove myself to you."

"Well, I'll tell you soon. Right now I have to go,"

"No, you're going to tell me now, Eve,"

The shift in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. Before I could react, he pulled me closer, his other hand sliding around my waist.

"Caleb, stop," I said, panic creeping into my voice.

He didn't listen. Instead, he leaned in, his breath hot against my skin.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

"Let me go!" I yelled, pushing against his chest.

But he was stronger than me, and his grip only tightened. "Why are you fighting this? You know you still feel something for me."

"No, I don't!" I shouted, struggling against him.

Adrenaline surged through me as I twisted in his arms, finally managing to free one hand. I shoved him with all my strength, catching him off guard.

He stumbled backward, his expression a mix of anger and shock.

"Get out," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

I didn't wait for him to say it twice. I bolted for the door, my heart pounding as I flung it open and ran out into the night.

The cab ride home was eerily quiet. The driver barely glanced at me as I slid into the backseat, shaking and trying to catch my breath.

I replayed the scene in my head, my hands trembling as I clutched my bag. How had it come to this? Caleb had always been controlling, but this... this was a new low.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down. The note. The encounter with Dana. Now this. It was all too much.

As the car pulled onto my street, I reached into my pocket for the note, needing to feel its presence, to ground myself.

But my fingers met nothing but fabric.

My stomach dropped. Frantically, I searched my bag, my other pockets, even the seat beside me.

It was gone.