The message stared back at Adam like a ticking bomb.
You and Mrs. Johnson looked comfortable last night.
His breath caught. He reread it three times, hoping it was some twisted joke. But there was no name, no emoji, no clue. Just words that could ruin everything.
He looked around his apartment as if someone might be watching. The blinds were closed, but suddenly even the silence felt like a threat. He gripped the phone tightly, his pulse hammering in his ears.
He typed back a single word.
Adam: Who is this?
No response.
He waited.
One minute. Two.
Five.
Still nothing.
The unease in his chest grew heavier until it was almost suffocating. Whoever had sent that message knew about last night. About him and Emily. But how? They h
