Moving to the quiet, gated neighborhood felt like a dream come true—perfect streets, white picket fences, and pristine houses.
“This is it,” I whispered, clutching the keys. “A fresh start.”
Inside, the house was exactly what I hoped for—spacious, quiet, and full of sunlight. But as I unpacked, unease crept in, as if I was being watched.
“Get a grip, Clara,” I muttered, shaking my head.
I peeked out the blinds and saw a man across the street, staring at me through his window. His gaze was unsettling.
“Who does that?” I whispered, pulling the curtains.
The next day, I met Victoria, who welcomed me warmly. “I’m Victoria. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Clara,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Let me guess,” she smiled. “Collin’s been watching?”
I nodded, and she laughed. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless.”
As our friendship grew, so did Collin’s presence. He wasn’t just watching anymore—he was always nearby, lurking.
One evening, feeling uneasy, I called Victoria. “Want to come over for dinner?”
“Of course! I’ll bring wine.”
Over dinner, I confided in her. “I’m leaving my husband, David. He’s a tyrant. I’m hiding here while the divorce goes through.”
Victoria’s face froze when I showed her a photo of David.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her warmth gone.
“Yeah, just… he looks familiar,” she muttered.
The next morning, Victoria vanished, and Collin was still watching from across the street.
I tried to ignore it, but her absence was strange. Nobody mentioned her, like she’d never existed.
Finally, I decided to find answers. I snuck into Victoria’s house and found it eerily undisturbed, like she’d disappeared mid-day. A photo on the mantel caught my eye—Victoria with a boy, about eight years old, who looked strangely familiar.
Before I could think further, I heard footsteps. I hid in a closet, heart pounding, and saw Victoria enter with David. They were plotting against me.
The walls of the closet seemed to close in. I had to get out.
As I crept toward the back door, a hand grabbed my arm. “Gotcha,” a voice hissed.
It was Collin.
“Come with me,” he whispered urgently. He led me to his house, locking the door behind us. “Victoria and your husband are headed to your place.”
Confused, I asked, “Why are you helping me?”
“Because Victoria is my ex-wife,” he replied flatly.
He went on to explain that Victoria had manipulated both him and their son, turning him into a mini-version of herself.
Then he dropped the bombshell: “That boy… is your David. Victoria is his mother.”
I was stunned. “No, that can’t be true.”
Collin revealed that he’d been watching me, worried about Victoria’s intentions. When I showed her David’s photo, he knew something was wrong.
“She’s dangerous, Clara. You’re a target,” Collin warned.
I felt panic rise in my chest. “What do I do now?”
“Don’t worry,” Collin said, “I’ve already called the police. David won’t hurt you again.”
His calm reassurance eased my fear a little, though it was still overwhelming.
As sirens approached, Collin stood. “Time to face it.”
I nodded, ready to confront the truth and move forward.
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