Michaels’ POV
She thought she was safe now.
Michael sat in the driver’s seat of his car, parked half a block away from the Bennett house, the engine off but the heat of fury simmering beneath his skin. From here, he could just barely see the curve of her silhouette through the living room window, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the shape of her as she bent over, probably picking up that damn baby.
His baby.
A muscle in his jaw jumped. He clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She was supposed to come back.
She always came back.
The envelope had been a warning subtle, not loud enough to startle, but pointed enough to remind her that he was still in the picture. Still watching. Still waiting. He’d thought maybe it would sha
