Chapter 7: The Message
970 Words
The car pulled away from the hotel, but I could not breathe.
The photo filled my phone screen.
Noah sleeping in the hotel bed.
His dinosaur blanket tucked under his chin.
The bedside lamp glowing softly beside him.
It was not a photo taken from the hallway.
It was not from a distance.
Whoever took it had stood inside the room.
Close enough to touch my son.
My stomach turned.
Clara leaned over.
The color drained from her face.
"Emily."
"Don't say anything."
If she said it out loud, I might fall apart.
Noah slept against my chest, still warm with fever.
I held him so tightly that Clara touched my wrist.
"You're going to wake him."
I loosened my grip.
Barely.
The driver looked at us through the mirror.
Clara noticed and smiled politely.
"Keep driving. No stops."
Then she lowered the privacy screen.
The moment it closed, her voice changed.
"Send me the screenshot. Now."
I forwarded the message.
"Do you think it was Vanessa?"
Clara's mouth was thin.
"I think Vanessa wants you scared. But this feels like someone with access. Hotel staff. Security. Or someone
close enough to know your room before Alexander did."
Richard.
Neither of us said his name.
We did not need to.
The car moved through Manhattan in silence.
Rain had started falling, turning the city lights into long golden lines across the windows.
Three years ago, I had left New York in the rain too.
No money.
No plan.
No family.
Only a child inside me and a stubborn refusal to die from heartbreak.
I thought I had built a life far away from Alexander Blackwood.
But one gala had pulled every ghost back into the room.
My phone rang.
Alexander.
I stared at his name.
Clara shook her head.
"Don't answer."
I did not.
The call ended.
Then came a text.
Where are you?
I almost laughed.
Even now, it was not Are you safe?
Not Is Noah okay?
Where are you?
A command dressed as concern.
Another message came.
Emily, answer the phone.
Then another.
If someone threatened you, tell me.
My fingers froze.
How did he know?
Clara saw my face.
"What?"
I showed her.
She cursed softly.
"He knows something."
I pressed call before I could change my mind.
Alexander answered on the first ring.
"Emily."
His voice was rough.
Not angry.
Worried.
I hated that I heard the difference.
"Did you send someone into my room?" I asked.
A pause.
Then his voice turned deadly quiet.
"What?"
"Did you have someone enter my room while my child was sleeping?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me."
"I am not lying."
There was a sound on his end. A door closing. Fast footsteps.
"What happened?"
I looked at the photo again.
My throat tightened.
"Someone sent me a picture of Noah asleep in the hotel room."
The silence that followed was cold enough to cross the phone.
When Alexander spoke again, he sounded like a man holding a knife.
"Send it to me."
"No."
"Emily."
"I am not handing you evidence so you can turn this into a Blackwood problem and take control."
"This is already a Blackwood problem if my son is being threatened."
My heart stopped at the words.
My son.
He said it like he had the right.
Like saying it could make three years disappear.
"He is my son," I said.
"He is ours."
The word hit me harder than it should have.
Ours.
Once, I would have given anything to hear him say that.
Now it sounded like a warning.
"No," I said. "You do not get to claim him because danger finally made you interested."
His breath sharpened.
"Interested? Do you think I slept tonight after seeing him?"
"I don't care what you did tonight."
"You should."
"Why?"
"Because someone used my name to get access to your floor."
The car seemed to tilt beneath me.
Clara's eyes widened.
I gripped the phone.
"What did you say?"
Alexander's voice was low.
"Daniel checked the service logs. Someone called hotel security from an internal line and said they were acting
under my instruction. They requested a wellness check on your room."
My mouth went dry.
"Who?"
"The call was placed from the business center. No name. No camera in the corner where the phone sits."
"Convenient."
"Yes."
For the first time that night, we agreed on something.
I looked down at Noah.
He sighed in his sleep and pressed his warm cheek against my collarbone.
Alexander's voice softened.
"How is he?"
I closed my eyes.
I should not answer.
I should hang up.
But the mother in me was tired.
"He has a fever."
"Does he need a doctor?"
"Clara has one coming."
"Where?"
The softness vanished from my chest.
"No."
"Emily, I need to know where he is."
"You need to learn the difference between needing and demanding."
He was silent.
Then he said, "Fine. I won't ask where you are."
I did not believe him.
"But I am sending protection."
"No, you're not."
"Then send me the photo so I can trace the number."
I looked at Clara.
She nodded once, reluctantly.
"Only the photo," I said. "Nothing else."
"Send it."
I did.
A minute later, Alexander spoke again.
His voice was no longer cold.
It was furious.
"Emily."
"What?"
"The number is registered to a prepaid device bought two days ago. But the phone connected tonight to a
network inside the Blackwood Hotel."
"That does not narrow it down."
"Yes," he said. "It does."
My skin prickled.
"How?"
"Only executive guests and staff have access to that network."
The car turned onto Clara's street.
I looked out at the rain.
"Then your world is smaller than you think."
Alexander's next words made my blood freeze.
"And more dangerous than you know."
- Writer
