MY STALKER IS MY SECRET GUARDIAN

CHAPTER 3

AURORA CROSS

I spent the whole day painting.

With the brush in my hand and the colors vibrating on the canvas, I try to drown out the anxiety, the fear, and that strange heat I still feel since Damon saved me.

I didn’t go to the police station. I thought, once again, no one would listen to me. So I let time pass, waiting... waiting for another letter.

But nothing came.

The kitchen light clicks on and I sigh with relief, although my heart still feels heavy.

I feed my dog, who wags his tail happily, and make myself pasta with white sauce. The sound of the TV on, the ceiling light... everything feels calmer. More... normal.

But I know it’s not.

After dinner, I take the plate to the sink and open the laptop again.

The browser still has pages open about the fire at my parents’ house.

The old headlines seem to scream at me, but none explain why only I survived. None mention the man who left me in front of the police station that night, years ago, saving me.

And worse: none say who he was. Or why he came back.

I start typing on Google: how to catch a stalker.

And the hole is deep. I find videos about homemade traps, tricks to record hidden audio, tracking apps, motion sensors, cameras hidden in stuffed animals. I read it all with burning eyes, tension taking over me. Maybe... maybe it’s time to fight back. To find out who is behind this.

Later, I go to sleep with the dog at the foot of the bed and my mind racing. But when I wake up...

There’s a new letter.

My heart almost jumps out of my chest. My fingers tremble as I tear open the envelope.

“They will never touch you again. They got what they deserved. Look at the news.”

My eyes widen. I run to turn on the TV and frantically switch channels until I find a live news broadcast.

“Two men were found dead in a mysterious fire during the early morning hours. The victims were sleeping when the house caught fire. Authorities are investigating if it was an accident caused by electrical failure...”

Their photo appears. They were the two who attacked me.

The remote falls from my hand.

They are... dead.

It was him. My stalker.

He saw. He acted. And now... now I’m sure he’s not just watching me. He’s protecting me. With an anger that scares.

My phone vibrates. I jump, but it’s just the woman from the gallery.

“Lexie, everything set for the exhibition tomorrow?”

“Yes, all ready!” I lie.

I hang up and breathe deeply. The image of the two burning men still pounding in my mind. I wonder... could Damon be involved in this?

No. Impossible.

I go to the computer and search his name and soon find his last name too.

Damon Hartley.

I find his profile on a social network. There are photos of him with his cat and wife. The caption says she died three years ago.

He lived in another state. There’s nothing linking him to my city. I sigh. Maybe I’m just getting paranoid.

I go to my apartment door, take a deep breath, and knock on his door. Nothing. Just as I’m turning to leave...

The door opens.

Damon is there, wearing only a towel around his waist, toothbrush in his mouth, and his hair still wet.

I freeze.

“Good morning, Lexie,” he murmurs with a half smile and foam at the corner of his mouth. “Need something?”

I stammer.

God, he’s even more handsome up close. He has scars on his arms and a tattoo of a moon on his chest. He’s like a living statue. And I... am paralyzed.

“I-I... wanted to know... I mean, ask... if you would like to come to my exhibition tomorrow. It’s... it’s art. Paintings. I paint. I...”

He raises an eyebrow, swallowing the toothpaste foam.

“Art? I don’t understand much, but... maybe. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come.”

I nod too quickly.

“Okay. If you change your mind... you know where to find me.”

He winks with a crooked smile before closing the door.

He’s way too handsome. And now I’m more embarrassed than ever.

The next morning, a box with my name on it is left at the concierge. I ask who sent it and the delivery man shrugs. I run upstairs and, still in my towel, open it.

Inside there is a long, stunning black dress. On the fabric, a note:

“Wear this on your special night. I’m proud of you.”

I touch the soft fabric with a knot in my throat.

I put on the dress later. It fits perfectly. As if it were made to measure.

At the gallery, my paintings are displayed and people drink champagne, commenting with interest. I can hardly pay attention to anything. Until...

The doors open.

And he walks in.

Damon.

Wearing formal clothes, hair slicked back. I look at him as if time stopped. He smiles. And my heart skips a beat.

“Did you paint all this?” he asks, approaching.

“Yes. I... I’ve been painting since I was a child.”

“I never knew that,” he comments, eyes scanning the canvases. “Do you have family?”

I shake my head.

“No. Just my dog. And now... you.”

He laughs at the answer.

“Well, I know it seems too fast, but... you might be my only friend here in the building.” He pauses.

“If you want, after this, we can have something stronger to drink. Or eat something. If you’re free.”

I choke.

“Is this a date?”

He makes a show, pretending to think.

“No. You can bring pepper spray and the killer dog if you want.”

I laugh.

“So... okay. I accept.”

The restaurant looks like it came out of a movie.

Everything there shines with a refinement that doesn’t match my real life — the sparkling chandeliers, the spotless white tablecloths, the cutlery too heavy for a girl like me.

But somehow, with Damon by my side, none of it feels intimidating.

He pulls out the chair for me with a gentlemanly gesture, and I smile, a little embarrassed, a little enchanted.

“You brought me to a five-star restaurant and I’m wearing horrible high heels, Damon.”

He laughs, that deep and carefree laugh that’s already starting to root in me.

“You look beautiful. And no one here is looking at your feet.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Maybe. But if they are, it’s out of envy.”

I laugh and slide into the seat.

The first few minutes are pleasant.

We order champagne — he insists on toasting with me — and when the bubbly liquid touches my lips, I feel the warmth grow slowly but steadily.

The soft candlelight in the center of the table casts dancing shadows on his face. And for the first time in a long while, I feel... light.

No questions about my past. No suspicious looks. No pressure to confess secrets I can barely face alone.

Damon just... is here. Looking at me like I’m interesting. Making me laugh.

“Have you always been this... sarcastic?” I ask, resting my chin on my hand.

“Since I learned to use full sentences. My mother said it was premature charm. My father thought it was insolence.”

I laugh. He smiles too, but the smile slowly gives way to something more... sincere.

“I moved here after my wife died.”

The weight of the revelation makes me sit up straighter in my chair.

“Oh...”

“She was pregnant. We were going to have a daughter.”

“What happened?”

“A car accident. She was going to have an ultrasound... and a truck ran the red light.”

My heart tightens.

“I’m sorry, Damon.”

He nods, breathing deeply. “I needed a new place. New neighbors. I tried a dog, but he ran away.”

“Maybe he just didn’t like you.”

“You didn’t like me at first either.”

I laugh remembering the embarrassing pepper spray and knife scene.

“I’m still deciding.”

He laughs out loud this time, and I join in. When the waiter arrives, we order food. Something too French for my palate, but I don’t complain. I’m strangely happy here.

I take the champagne glass again and take another sip.

That’s when I feel it.

His gaze.

Fixed. Intense.

A heat starts rising from my chest to my neck, and I look away, pretending to read the menu again. But it’s useless. I can feel his stare burning my skin.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, too casually.

I almost spit out the drink.

“What?”

“It’s just a simple question. Do you have someone waiting at home?”

“No. I’ve never had a boyfriend, actually.”

He looks shocked.

“Wait. What do you mean, never?”

I shrug, laughing.

“Simple. No one wanted me. Or I never wanted anyone enough.”

“Impossible. You’re too beautiful for that.”

I glance around the table, laughing, trying to compose myself.

“You’re terrible with subtle compliments.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

“Oh, great.”

He leans back in the chair, smiling slowly.

“I want more moments like this with you.”

My breath falters for a second.

“Me too.”

But before he can answer, the waiter comes back — and he’s not alone. He holds a white envelope in his hand and frowns.

“Sorry to interrupt. There’s a note for... Aurora?”

The world freezes.

Damon looks at me, confused.

“Aurora?”

My hands move too fast. I grab the envelope and open it with trembling fingers.

The paper inside is handwritten:

Damon may be charming, but you’re not his. Only I know how to protect you.

My eyes scan the lines. The words dance before me.

“Are you okay?” Damon asks.

I stand up quickly.

“Who gave you this?”

The waiter hesitates.

“A man... in black clothes. Didn’t say his name. Delivered it and left.”

My gaze scans the restaurant. Too many people. Laughter. Lights. No familiar faces.

“Lexie!” Damon shouts behind me, but I’m already running up the stairs.

I push open the emergency door and step out onto the street.

The cold night air hits my warm skin. My eyes sweep the crowd — couples, waiters, cars, lights. But... no one.

I’m trembling when I feel Damon’s hand on my arm.

“Lexie... what’s going on?”

I turn to him, the letter still in my hand.

“There’s someone... someone who knows everything about me. He sends letters. He knows my real name. He follows me. He scares me. He watches me.”

Damon takes the paper from my hand, reading.

“You need to go to the police.”

“I already have. Several times. They do nothing. They think it’s all in my head.”

He folds the paper carefully.

“Then let’s go home. Now.”

He guides me to the car, opening the door urgently. He drives in silence, eyes fixed on the road.

When we arrive at my building, he comes up with me. He searches my entire apartment — closets, windows, drawers, even under the bed. Nothing.

“It’s all clean. But... has he been here before?”

“I don’t know.”

When he turns to leave, I reach out and hold his hand.

“Can you... stay a little? With me?”

He stops. His blue eyes look at me for a moment before he nods.

“Of course.”

He gently pulls me to the sofa.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep. Then I’ll lock everything up.”

I snuggle next to him. His breathing is calm. Strong.

And for the first time in weeks, I feel... safe.

Even knowing the danger is still out there. Watching. Waiting.

But for now...

I just want to stay here.

With him.