Chapter Eight – The Envelope
The envelope sat on the coffee table all night.
I didn’t move it. I didn’t hide it. I just stared at it like it might vanish on its own if I ignored it long enough.
It didn’t.
By morning, it felt like the thing was pulsing, drawing my eyes every time I walked past. Whoever that man was, he had planted something inside my home, inside my mind.
And Alexander was still halfway across the world.
I made coffee, tried reading, tried distracting myself with meaningless chores, but every time my mind wandered, it landed right back on those words: There’s no going back.
I hated how much they intrigued me.
By noon, I’d had enough.
I sat down on the couch, picked up the envelope, and held it in my hands. It was unmarked, sealed tight. No return address, no name.
