Grace stopped answering unknown numbers.
She silenced notifications. Turned the phone face down. Still, every vibration—real or imagined—sent a jolt through her body.
Ted was locked up.
That was the truth.
But it didn't feel like safety.
The restraining order was reinforced. Police patrols passed the house twice a day. Friends checked in. Lauren reminded her to breathe.
None of it erased the feeling that she was being watched.
Three days passed without another message.
Three days of forced normalcy.
Grace took Belinda to school. Went grocery shopping again. Sat through therapy sessions where she spoke carefully, choosing words that didn't reopen wounds too fast.
Then the envelope arrived.
It was waiting on the kitchen counter when Grace came home, placed neatly beside the mail Luisa had brought in.
Her hands went cold.
No stamp. No return address.
Just her name.
Grace.
She didn't open it right away.
She stood there, staring, every instinct screaming at her to throw it away, to burn it, to pretend it didn't exist.
Instead, she sat down.
Inside was a single page.
Neat handwriting. Controlled.
You always liked pretending I didn't exist.
Her chest tightened.
Another line followed.
Prison gives you time to think.
Grace folded the paper slowly, her movements careful, deliberate.
"How?" she whispered.
That evening, Detective Harris called.
"We believe Ted contacted you from inside," he said. "He used another inmate's phone privileges."
"So even in there, he can reach me," Grace said.
"Yes," the detective admitted. "But every contact strengthens your case."
Your case.
The words felt hollow.
That night, Grace sat beside Belinda's bed long after she fell asleep.
She watched her daughter breathe, memorizing the sound, the rhythm. A grounding ritual she didn't remember choosing.
When she finally returned to the living room, her phone lit up.
One notification.
A voicemail.
Blocked number.
Her hands shook as she pressed play.
Ted's voice filled the room. Calm. Familiar.
"You always hated silence," he said softly. "That's why I knew you'd listen."
Grace ended the call, her heart pounding.
A second voicemail appeared immediately.
"I'm not angry," Ted continued. "I just want you to remember who we are."
Grace stared at the screen.
Then she understood something that made her stomach drop.
Ted didn't need to escape again.
He had already found a way back into her life.