If all goes well, this will eat away at his parents, sowing seeds of doubt that should have been there all along—Iwantthemto wonder if he’s taken their gifts and sold them for booze and drugs.
His father’s ongoing secret ‘soda money’ deposits vanish, funneled into an untraceable account I control. Timmy flails, too stupid to untangle the mess. Watching him plead with his enabling father for more money, his voice dripping with entitlement, is sickly satisfying.
I tweak his phone settings to delay texts, sowing paranoia. He texts a dealer, desperate for his next fix, only to be ghosted because of a message I sent. The dealer’s ‘Don’t contact me again, loser,’ is just the icing.
The paranoia will eat him alive before the drugs do.
I craft an enticing fake email from a local employer needing help with construction work and offering to pay a premium hourly rate. The moment he leaves for his fake ‘interview,’ Margaux gets a few hours of peace. I picture Timmy standing at a locked office door, confused and frustrated, and it’s glorious.
Every move I make is calculated. If Timmy suspects Margaux, he’ll take it out on her. And if Margaux suspects me, I could lose her trust forever. So, I stay hidden, creating distractions and diversions, letting the chaos unfold as if karma itself is at work.
I send Margaux a care package—flowers and a gift card to Dock Bar, the place I know she loves in Downtown. Something small, something that says, ‘You’re not alone’—something that will make her feel special and get her out of the house. But when she receives it, she assumes it’s from Timmy.
Timmy, of course, takes credit. He grins like the Cheshire Cat, playing the part of the thoughtful boyfriend. “I knew youwould justloveit! It’s our special place, the first place we met and the place where we had our engagement party!”
Margaux flinches at the mention, clearly thinking about Parker and his threats that fateful night.
But I know better. I see Timmy later, through his hacked webcam, seething with jealousy. He’s convinced another man sent the package, and the paranoia is eating him alive.
For a moment, I feel a flicker of satisfaction. But then I worry.
Did I make things worse for her? Is she at greater risk because of my actions?
The thought twists my gut.
I’ve set the chessboard, and the pieces are moving. Every step I take brings me closer to ending this nightmare for Margaux. But I have to wait. I have to be patient.
Margaux is strong—stronger than she realizes. I see it in the way she picks herself up after every fall, the way she keeps going even when the world is crushing her.
But she doesn’t see it herself. Not yet.
I’ll wait. I’ll watch. And when the time comes, I’ll strike. Timmy won’t even see it coming.
But for now, I’ll stay in the shadows, protecting her from afar. Creating ‘inconveniences’ to chip away at Timmy’s carefully curated facade.
Because Margaux isn’t just someone I want to save—the more I watch, the more I know she’s the woman I want to spend my life with.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets the chance to live the life she deserves.
And I’ll make sure Timmy pays for all he’s done.
CHAPTER 10
ALICE HAS ENTERED THE CHAT
MARGAUX
Ivague-post on Facebook, because that’s how I deal with emotions now. It’s a cry for help wrapped in plausible deniability, an outlet where I can vent just enough without inviting too many questions—or so I think.
The response comes quickly. My roller derby friend Alice messages me. We haven’t talked directly in a couple of years, but we’ve stayed connected, liking each other’s posts and trading jokes in comments. She’s the kind of friend who makes you feel seen even from a distance.
She’s exactly the person I need right now.
Alice:
You okay?
Me: