Grace stayed at the hospital well into the evening. She hadn''t slept muchtely and eventually dozed off, slumped over the edge of Liam''s bed.


    Three hourster, a doctor gently woke her up.


    "Ms. Lambert, you should go home and get some rest. Liam''s still unconscious- you''ll copse before he even wakes up."


    Her eyes were ringed with dark circles. She rubbed them and asked, "His fever still isn''t going down?"


    The doctor sighed. "It all depends on him now. He seems stuck on something mentally. As his family, maybe try talking to him—see if it helps."


    But Grace didn''t even know what Liam''s hang-up was.


    She got up and went home, where she copsed into bed from sheer exhaustion.


    A noise outside her window startled her awake in the middle of the night.<fn7289> Content originallyes from find{n}ovel</fn7289>


    She flicked on themp beside her and froze. Outside her window, a strange man was crouched, holding a tool and clearly about to smash the ss.


    It was a terrifying sight-if her nerves weren''t steel by now, she probably would''ve screamed.


    The man clearly hadn''t expected the lights toe on. He panicked and swung the tool, but Grace moved faster. She grabbed a chair and mmed it against the window.


    He had no safety gear-no harness, no rope. He''d climbed up by hand. The force of the chair knocked him clean off, and he crashed to the ground below.


    The sound of a body hitting pavement jolted the nearby patrol to attention. Within minutes, police sirens lit up the block.


    The man had died instantly.


    Grace stood at her window, watching officers swarm the scene. Her adrenaline was finally fading, but her mind stayed sharp.


    The cops came up to her apartment, and one of them blinked when he saw her face.


    "Ms. Lambert... it''s you again?"


    She''d had more than a few run-ins with the copstely. Calmly, she exined what had happened.


    The officers surveyed the shattered ss and exchanged a look. One of them pinched the bridge of his nose.


    "Come with us for a statement. We''ll verify the guy''s identity soon."


    Grace grabbed a coat and followed them to the police station.


    It didn''t take long for them to run the guy''s ID—he was from the Druville slums, unemployed, and had over a dozen prior offenses.


    At that point, it was pretty clear she hadn''t done anything wrong.


    Still, Grace asked, "Can you check his bank activity? I want to know who paid him toe after me."


    The officers pulled up his financial records and sighed.


    "Look, in ces like Druville, these guys don''t leave a trail. They''ve gotten smarter -no transfers, no digital footprint. Everything''s in cash. If you want answers, think about who you''ve pissed off recently."


    She lowered her gaze. Between the gasoline attack, the ambush in the snow, and now this, someone clearly wanted her dead.


    But something didn''t add up-these attacks felt like they came from different people. That gasoline stunt was way too low-rent to be nned by anyone smart.


    Her mind immediatelynded on Daphne and Tristan-two names she''d nearly forgotten.


    Tristan had spent years getting crushed under Julian''s heel, desperate to prove himself and gain the Sidler family''s respect. But with Julian around, he never stood a chance. The resentment must''ve twisted him up inside. And Daphne was just dumb enough to follow along.


    Yeah, those two could definitely do something reckless.


    Grace left the station and got into her car. It was around 3:00 am, and the streets werepletely empty.


    After driving for a bit, she pulled over and stepped out, her eyes sweeping the shadows.


    "Alright. Come out," she said.


    But in the darkness, everything was still and silent. Perhaps she was imagining things.


    She frowned and spoke again, her voice low but steady. "I can feel you. You''re not here to hurt me."


    The words had barely left her mouth when faint footsteps echoed through the night. A shadow emerged from the darkness, slowly approaching.


    Lately, Grace had noticed subtle changes in herself—something strange. It was as if she could sense things-like when someone was watching her, even before she saw them.


    As the figure stepped into the dim light, she blinked in surprise. "Wait. Lyle?"


    He was dressed head to toe in ck athletic wear, a small braid hanging loosely over his shoulder.


    "Yeah, it''s me," he said simply.


    Grace jerked her chin toward the car. "Come on. Let''s talk in the car."