Ted underestimated her.
Grace realized that as she sat across from Detective Harris, a thin folder open between them. Inside were copies of messages, transcripts of voicemails, photos of the broken door, timestamps that told a story Ted never meant to write.
"He contacted you directly after the arrest," Harris said. "Multiple times."
"Yes," Grace replied. "And he won't stop."
Harris nodded. "That's the mistake."
Grace looked up.
"He violated the restraining order repeatedly," the detective continued. "Every call. Every message. Every letter. He handed us leverage."
Leverage.
It felt strange to hear that word applied to her fear.
"He also contacted you using another inmate's privileges," Harris added. "That brings in federal charges."
Grace let the words sink in.
"So what happens now?" she asked.
"There will be a hearing," Harris said. "Sooner than planned."
That afternoon, Grace picked Belinda up from school.
They walked home slowly, hand in hand. For the first time in days, Grace allowed herself to notice the sky. The sound of traffic. The normal world continuing around them.
At home, Luisa was on the phone.
She covered the receiver when she saw Grace. "It's a lawyer. For you."
Grace froze.
The lawyer's voice was calm. Confident.
"Mr. Miller's actions after his arrest significantly worsened his situation," she explained. "We're pushing for extended incarceration and permanent no-contact orders."
Permanent.
Grace closed her eyes.
That night, Grace sat alone at the kitchen table.
She didn't check her phone.
She didn't wait.
She slept for the first time in weeks.
In the early hours of the morning, her phone buzzed.
One message.
Blocked number.
You think the system will protect you.
Grace stared at the screen, her heart steady.
Then another message appeared.
You made a very big mistake.
Grace didn't respond.
She forwarded the messages to Detective Harris and turned the phone off.
Across the city, in a cell with concrete walls and steel bars, Ted read the notification that his message had been delivered.
And for the first time, something unfamiliar crept into his thoughts.
Not anger.
Not control.
Fear.