Her voice is strangely calm.
"Devon. I know you're avoiding me, and I understand. I've been emotional. But I need you to know something."
A pause. I hear her breathing.
"I'm keeping this baby. Whether you believe it's yours or not. This child exists, and you don't get to pretend otherwise."
She pauses.
"I saw her last night, by the way. At the bar where she works. Shelooked…fat and tired. It’s sad. I felt bad for her, honestly. Being married to a man who lies to her face, who wants everything she isn’t.”
I close my eyes, my temples throbbing.
"I'm not going anywhere, Devon. I can't. We're connected now—you and me and this baby."
The voicemail ends.
I stare at my phone, my hands trembling with rage.
She was at the bar. Watching Jade.Followingher.
This isn't harassment anymore—it’sstalking. This is a woman who has lost all grip on reality, who has built an entire fantasy around a kiss that happened once and meant nothing.
I save the voicemail, screenshot the number, and add it to our folder.
Then I call Officer Gray.
"I need to speed up that protection order," I explain when she answers. "She's following my wife and making more threats. She sent a voicemail claiming she's been watching Jade at work."
Gray is silent for a moment. "I'll push it through today. But Mr. Locke—you need to understand something. She may escalate further before she backs down."
"What does that fucking mean?" I explode, tugging on my hair.
If she touches my wife?—
"It means be vigilant. Document everything. And if she shows up in person—anywhere—you call 911 immediately."
I hang up and lean against the wall, my heart pounding.
Mila isn't going to stop. The restraining order won't stop her. The review at work won't stop her. Nothing will stop her until she's gotten whatever twisted satisfaction she's looking for.
Or until she destroys us.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JADE
Devon runs down the stairs so fast I whirl around, my eyes wide and my heart racing.
“Fucking hell, what now?!” I yelp.
"She was at the bar," he says. "Last night. Watching you."
The words don't click at first. They float somewhere above my head like a cloud.
"What?"
"She left me a voicemail. Said she saw you working, and called you—" He stops, his jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle jump.
