~ Evie ~
Another plain white envelope slides through the letter slot. No stamp that looks official. No return address. Just my name in handwriting I know way too well. Marcus’s handwriting.
Seriously, how is he even allowed to send letters from prison? He got life without parole. They took everything from him - phone, visitors, the works. But he was a billionaire. Guys like that can buy anything, right? Even stamps and envelopes and someone on the outside to drop it in a mailbox. Especially if he’s still obsessed with getting his hands on Donald. My stomach feels tight just thinking about it. He lost in court, lost in front of a judge, lost everything, and he still won’t let go.
I set Donald down gentle in his playpen so I don’t wake him, then I rip the envelope open right there in the
