Jakob.
I dropped the letter on my couch and stood up in disgust. His letter meant nothing to me. He meant nothing to me. I didn’t want to remember the way he’d gone out of his way to find coconuts for me, so I could drink the water and eat the pulp. Or the hours he’d spent in the ocean trying to catch fish. Or the nights I’d spent in his arms, cuddled up next to his chest as he’d run his fingers across my hair and back, kissing me softly as his eyes told me all the other things he wanted to do to me.
He’d been playing me from the start. He’d taken me to that island with the sole purpose of making me fall for him. And he wanted to make sure that I didn’t see any money from Bradley Inc. Jakob didn’t care about me. He never had and I needed to remember that. I needed to sleep. I needed to forget him. I needed to bring him and his family down. I knew that I had to be stronger, better, wiser, more fearless. The Bradley family had fooled my parents and now me. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it again. I crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.
I awoke the next morning feeling tense and uneasy, despite the sound of birds chirping outside my window. I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room, feeling disoriented. I frowned as I saw the letter on the coffee table. I could have sworn that I’d left it on the couch. My heart started thudding as I heard a loud creak behind me. I turned around quickly, but nobody was there.
Taking a deep breath, I read the letter again. All color fell from my face as I saw a note scrawled on the bottom of the paper: This is not over, Bianca. Mattias. I was positive I had not seen that part of the note the night before. That meant someone had been in my apartment when I was sleeping. I hurried to the door—it was still locked, and it didn’t look as if anyone had broken in. I heard another creak and turned around slowly, my fingers shaking as I heard a buzzing in my ears. Was someone in the apartment with me? I stood next to the door, frozen in fear. Then my phone rang. I ran over to the couch and picked the phone up, my heart racing.
“Hello?”
“Bianca?” It was Rosie. “Where have you been? Who is the guy you left the bar with? Why haven’t you called me?”
“Rosie?” I sank onto the couch. “Oh, Rosie.” My voice trembled.
“Oh my God, Bianca, what’s wrong?” She sounded worried. “Did he rape you?”
“Did who rape me?” I asked in confusion.
“The guy you left the bar with.”
“Rosie, I didn’t leave the bar with anyone. I was kidnapped.”
“What?” she screamed. “What?”
“Rosie”—I started crying—“I’m scared. I think someone is after me.”
“What’s going on, Bianca?”
“I think someone might be in the apartment with me right now,” I whispered into the phone, my body frozen on the couch. I was still listening to Rosie’s voice over the phone, but all my other senses were on high alert to what was going on in my apartment.
“What are you talking about?”
“I think someone broke into my apartment.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to check.”
“Are you crazy?” Rosie sounded shocked. “Leave the apartment now and call the police.”
“Stay on the phone with me,” I said softly as I walked to the kitchen quickly. I grabbed a knife from my butcher block and took a deep breath. “I’m going to check now.”
“Bianca, this doesn’t sound like a good idea.” Rosie spoke quickly. “Please just leave your apartment and call the police!”
“It’s fine.” As I crept past the couch, I heard the loud creak in front of me again and nearly jumped out of my skin. My face was burning and my stomach was a bundle of nerves, but then I stepped back and forward again and I heard the same creak. “It’s the floorboards.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s just the floorboards. Stupid old apartment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Let me check.” I walked into my bedroom and looked inside the closets quickly, the knife held in front of me as I surveyed all the small spaces. “I’m going into the bathroom now.” I pushed the door open and jumped back before moving forward and checking. “It’s all clear.”
“You’re scaring me, Bianca. What’s going on?”
“Can you come over so we can talk in person?” I asked softly. “Please.”
“I’ll come over now,” she said passionately. “Oh my God, what happened to you, Bianca?”
“Just come over,” I sobbed, my composure breaking again now that I knew I was alone.
“I’m on my way.”
She hung up and I sat back and closed my eyes, letting the tears flow freely.