Watch your back
709 Words
Maya pushed open the apartment door with her elbow, kicking it shut behind her while she wrestled to get her heels off.
Esme was curled on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders. The moment Maya walked in, Esme’s eyes lit up with hungry gossip-energy.
“So?” Esme asked, sitting up. “How did it go with the mafia widower?”
Maya groaned. “Esme, can you please not call him that?”
“I’m just calling him what everyone calls him,” Esme said, unbothered. “So… details. Tell me.”
“It was… weird,” Maya admitted, dropping her bag on the nearest surface and rubbing her forehead. “He’s… grieving. Like… for real. I don’t think he killed his wife, people are just saying that to make him look bad.”
Esme opened her mouth a little, her facial expression changing.“Maybe he didn’t. But,was the meeting like—serious-serious?”
“Yeah.” Maya sank next to her. “This case is a big one. And I already know my boss is going to be on my ass by tomorrow.”
Esme grabbed the popcorn bowl and held it out towards Maya.
Maya took a piece and smiled faintly. “Thanks.”
“You look exhausted,” Esme said gently. “Like you’ve been fighting ghosts and paperwork at the same time.”
“I mean, basically.” Maya sank deeper into the couch. “And Tyler keeps texting, asking why I didn’t come over.I don’t want to deal with him.”
Esme raised a brow. “He texted me, too. Asking if you got home safe. Maya… at some point you have to talk to him.”
“I know,” Maya sighed. “It’s just… today was a lot. The whole thing was weird, and sad, and—ugh.”
Esme leaned her head against Maya’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But, you’re gonna have to explain it to him.”
Maya went quiet for a second. “I know, I know.”
“That’s enough,” Esme whispered. “Now go shower. You smell terrible.”
Maya laughed tiredly. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You smell like a courthouse carpet. Move.”
Maya grabbed her towel and went into the bathroom.
Adrian stood in the dark hallway of his penthouse , staring at the closet door like it held something alive.
He wasn’t a man who hesitated—but tonight, something about touching Isabella’s things felt like ripping open a bleeding wound. It felt different.
Finally, he opened the door.
The faint scent of Isabella’s perfume hit him first.
Jasmine.
Soft. Familiar.
He reached for her storage box that he knew he shouldn’t have opened again, but couldn’t help it.
“This is stupid,” he muttered. “Why the hell are we even doing this?”
He wondered why they were trying to dissect this whole thing again.
Inside the box were little pieces of her life that she had left behind—photos, cards, dumb things she kept that made no sense to anyone but her.
Then the papers.
Receipts.
Transaction slips.
Withdrawals.
All the ones he didn’t recognize.
He rubbed his hand over his face in exhaustion.
This was the part he had never told anyone about. He was convinced he could figure it out by himself.
The part that made everything worse.
And now a stranger—an attorney—was sniffing around the same shadows Isabella died in.
He closed the box hurriedly.
Maya stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, feeling so tired. She changed into her silk pajamas, made a cup of tea, and curled up in bed with her favourite book.
For the next couple minutes, she actually felt relaxed.
Her breathing slowed.
Her eyes felt heavy.
She reached over and turned off her bedside lamp.
Darkness covered her room.
Then, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A single message.
An unknown number.
“Watch your back, Ms. Sinclair. Don't go digging into other people’s business”
Maya’s stomach churned.
Her fingers went cold.
The room suddenly felt too big, too quiet, too dark.
For the first time tonight…
She was genuinely scared.
- Writer
