Isabella Vicks did not sleep well that night.
The image of the dark car parked across the street lingered in her mind long after she had turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Every small sound in the apartment seemed louder than usual—the faint creaking of the building, the distant noise of cars passing outside, even the ticking of the clock in her living room.
She tossed and turned for hours.
Her thoughts kept circling back to the same questions.
Who was watching her?
And why?
Was it the same person who had sent the threatening messages?
Or someone else entirely?
Around two in the morning, Isabella finally got up and walked quietly to the window. She gently moved the curtain aside and looked down at the street.
The car was gone.
The parking space was empty now, illuminated
