"My Husband Was Pulling On His Pants When I Came Home With Our Baby’s Ultrasound—My Best Friend Was Hiding Behind My Maternity Coats

I drove wildly for three hours until I reached a high-end corporate security firm in downtown Seattle.

I sat across a sleek glass desk from Liam Carter, an ex-military intelligence officer who now specialized in private protection for high-net-worth clients.

I placed the photograph and the terrifying note on his desk, keeping Lily strapped safely in her carrier next to me.

Liam picked up the photo with a gloved hand, his piercing blue eyes analyzing every single detail of the frame.

"This wasn't taken with a cell phone," Liam said, his voice deep and calm, instantly grounding my frantic energy. "The depth of field and resolution suggest a high-powered telephoto lens. The shooter was likely standing at the edge of your tree line, not right against the glass."

"How did they get the envelope into my mail pile?" I asked, shuddering at the thought of a stranger on my porch.

"They walked right up and dropped it off. They wanted you to know they could touch you," Liam replied, setting the photo down.

Within an hour, Liam and his tactical team were pulling up to my coastal house in unmarked black SUVs.

I waited in the car with Lily while they conducted a massive, sweeping search of the entire property using advanced thermal and electronic scanning equipment.

Thirty minutes later, Liam walked out to my car, his expression deadly serious.

He held up a tiny, black piece of plastic no larger than a grain of rice.

"I found three of these audio transmitters," Liam explained, dropping the tiny device into a clear evidence bag. "One in your living room, one under your kitchen island, and one sewn directly into the curtains of your nursery."

My stomach lurched violently, and a wave of pure nausea washed over me.

Every lullaby I had sung to Lily, every phone call to my lawyer, every moment of peace I thought I had secured—Damon had been listening to all of it.

"He knows exactly what I've been doing," I whispered, holding back tears of absolute rage.

"Not anymore," Liam said firmly. "My team just scrambled their frequencies. But whoever planted these had unrestricted access to your house. Did you hire any new cleaners? Nannies? Contractors?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No one. I live completely alone. I don't trust anyone."

Liam narrowed his eyes and looked back at my locked front door.

"Then the person who planted these didn't need a key. They knew your security codes."