Chapter 4 - The Hidden Stalker
For the next three days, I lived in a surreal state of protected captivity.
Two of Ethan's bodyguards stood outside my apartment door, while another drove me to work in an armored SUV.
Adrian had not returned to our shared apartment since the night of the gala.
He was trapped in endless legal depositions, desperately trying to save his medical license from Ethan's ruthless lawyers.
For the first time in eleven months, I slept through the night without waking up in terror.
On Wednesday afternoon, I decided to pack my bags and move out before Adrian could return.
I went into his home office to retrieve my passport from his locked desk drawer.
I found the small key he hid under his medical awards and unlocked the bottom cabinet.
My passport was there, but it was sitting on top of a thick, black leather folder.
The folder had the Carter Industries logo stamped on the front.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened the cover.
It was not a file about the hospital or the charity foundation.
It was a meticulously detailed surveillance file on Ethan Carter.
There were hundreds of photographs of Ethan leaving his penthouse, eating at restaurants, and attending private meetings.
Some of the photos were dated more than three years ago, long before I even applied for my job.
My hands shook as I flipped to the very last page of the dossier.
It was a printed copy of my own employment contract with Carter Industries, heavily highlighted with red ink.
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Attached to my contract was a handwritten sticky note in Adrian's handwriting.
"She is the perfect bait," the note read.
