171 A letter, A Line
Mara
I blinked awake to a soft hush in the room and the faint weight of the afternoon sun pouring through the curtains. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 1:03 PM.
Tiffany was still asleep, curled protectively around a slumbering Emma, both of them cocooned in peace. I smiled faintly, careful not to disturb them as I slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom.
After freshening up, I slipped into a loose-knit top and a pair of soft linen trousers-something simple, something breathable. Comfort mattered more than fashion today. I needed to be grounded.
Downstairs, I found Jennifer and Richard lounging on the couch in the living room, half-absorbed in a movie. The moment they noticed me, they jumped to their feet like guilty teenagers caught skipping chores.
“Good afternoon, Luna,” they greeted in unison.
I waved a hand, amused. “You know you’re allowed to sit and watch television, right? The house hasn’t turned into a
military camp… yet.”
Jennifer chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders.
I headed into the kitchen, my stomach reminding me I hadn’t eaten since last night. Jennifer followed, and I perched on
the stool at the counter while she began setting things out. My eyes lit up at the sight of bagels and croissants-simple
pleasures that always managed to lift my mood. I reached for one, sighing contentedly as I took a bite.
Then the doorbell rang.
Richard, Jennifer’s husband, excused himself and went to check. Moments later, he returned with a puzzled look on his
face and a single envelope in his hand.
“A letter,” he said.
My brows furrowed. “A letter?”
He nodded, holding it out to me like it might bite. “Old school. No courier company. Just… delivered.”
“Who is it from?” I asked, wariness creeping into my tone.
He glanced at the neat handwriting on the envelope. “Mr Chase Nighthorn.”
The room chilled instantly.
My chest tightened, and the pastry suddenly felt like lead in my stomach. “Who’s it addressed to?” I asked, though I already knew.
He turned it over. “Mara Thornridge Nighthorn.”
I exhaled sharply. Of course. Of course it was.
Jennifer looked at me with wide, alarmed eyes, but I didn’t offer any explanation. It was better that way-for them, for me. I kept my expression neutral and requested a pair of gloves and a nose mask. Jennifer fetched the cleaning set we used for chemical scrubbing, and I slipped them on without hesitation.
“Richard,” I said calmly, “go wash your hands. Thoroughly.”
The lines between their brows deepened. They knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t about to share the weight of this with anyone unless I had to. I took the envelope from Richard and stepped to the far end of the kitchen.
< 171 A letter, A Line
+8 Points >
Lucian would kill me if he found out I opened a letter from Chase Nighthorn. He’d lose his mind-and for good reason. Chase wasn’t just dangerous. He was unhinged, a whisper of darkness in our lives.
But I had to know.
Carefully, I peeled the envelope open, half-expecting something mechanical, something deadly. But there was only a folded sheet of paper-plain, white, handwritten.
I unfolded it and read:
Luna Mara,
I write this letter in good faith.
I know you are an innocent young woman, and so is your husband… but he is sticking his nose where it does not belong.
Kindly advise him to stay out of my way, or I might just have to crush him to get where I am heading.
A word is enough for the wise.
I know you are a wise young lady, Mara, and I expect you to do the needful-for the sake of your unborn child.
This is my final warning to your husband. If he does not desist, I will have no choice but to crush him.
It isn’t personal.
I hope you understand.
My blood ran cold.
I stared at the paper for a long moment, the words sinking into my bones like poison. He knew I was pregnant. He knew about Lucian’s involvement.
This wasn’t a letter-it was a threat laced in polite cruelty. A veiled blade wrapped in silk.
I looked over at Jennifer, who stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, and offered her a soft, reassuring smile I didn’t feel.
“Please don’t mention this to anyone,” I said, folding the letter carefully. “Especially not Lucian.”
She nodded slowly, and I could see the questions behind her eyes.
But I had no answers yet-only one certainty: Chase had drawn a line in the sand.
And I would do whatever it took to protect my family from the storm that was coming.
My hand trembled as I held the letter, the paper crinkling slightly beneath my fingers.
How did he know I was pregnant?
A sick feeling twisted in my gut. News travelled fast. People knew before I told them, and that must have been how he found out.
Chase knowing wasn’t just a violation-it was a warning shot. Proof that his reach was far greater than I’d thought.
He was watching me.
The room suddenly felt colder. The shadows in the corners deeper. My skin prickled with unease. This wasn’t something I could brush aside. Chase didn’t strike me as a man who issued idle threats. Every word in that letter was laced with intent, and now that I had something to lose-someone-he knew exactly where to hit.
I folded the letter carefully, hands still unsteady, and tucked it back into the envelope.
Should I call Lucian? Tell him everything now? Or wait for him to return?
2/3
< 171 A letter A Line
+8 Points >
My heart waged war with my instincts, but one thing was painfully clear-we couldn’t stay here. He knew where we lived. And if Chase knew where I was, then he could find them too. Tiffany. Emma. The Clearwaters. My unborn child.
No.
I wouldn’t risk it.
I straightened, forcing calm into my voice. “Pack your things,” I said firmly to Richard and Jennifer, who were still lingering near the kitchen, concern etched across their faces. “We’re going back to the Nighthorn mansion. This location has been compromised.”
Their eyes widened, but they didn’t question me.
Good.
I wasn’t leaving anyone behind. Not them. Not with someone like Chase out there. He could hurt them. Or worse-use them. I couldn’t bear that weight. I needed them close, protected.
Even if it meant returning to a place I swore I’d never live in again.
My appetite vanished. The croissants sat untouched on the counter, their warmth now meaningless. I turned and made my way back upstairs, my steps quicker, heavier.
Tiffany and Emma were still curled up on the bed, lost in a peaceful sleep that suddenly felt far too fragile. I reached out and gently shook Tiffany’s shoulder.
She stirred, blinking groggily. “Mara?”
I gave her a tight smile. “We need to pack.”
She sat up slowly, sensing the shift in my tone. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Just… trust me. We’re heading back to the mansion. It’s not safe here anymore.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she nodded without a word. That was the thing about Tiffany-when it mattered, she didn’t
need convincing.
I glanced at Emma, still asleep between the pillows, and felt a surge of protectiveness swell inside me.
I might hate that house, the memories, the ghosts in its walls-but right now, it was the only fortress strong enough to keep us safe.
And Chase Nighthorn had just made one thing very clear.
This was war.
