Grace was folding laundry when the phone rang.
She almost didn't answer.
Lately, silence had become precious. Fragile. Something she didn't want to disturb.
Then she saw the name on the screen.
Lauren.
Grace answered immediately.
"Lauren?"
There was no response at first.
Only breathing. Fast. Uneven.
Then a sound that made Grace's chest tighten.
A sob.
"Grace," Lauren said, her voice breaking. "He's gone."
Grace stood still.
"Who's gone?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Mark," Lauren whispered. "He didn't come home."
Grace felt the room tilt slightly.
"When was the last time you saw him?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.
"Last night," Lauren said. "He said he was running late. That he'd be home soon."
Grace closed her eyes.
"And now?"
"His car is still at work," Lauren said quickly. "His phone goes straight to voicemail. His wallet is at home. Grace, he would never—" Her voice cracked again. "He would never just disappear."
Grace grabbed her keys.
"I'm coming," she said. "Where are you?"
"At the house," Lauren replied. "The police were here. They asked questions. They looked around. And then they left."
"They left?" Grace repeated.
"They said there are no signs of a crime," Lauren said, her panic rising. "No forced entry. No witnesses. Nothing."
Nothing.
The word echoed.
Grace arrived less than twenty minutes later.
Lauren was sitting on the front steps, arms wrapped tightly around herself, eyes red and unfocused. She looked smaller somehow. Fragile in a way Grace had never seen before.
Grace knelt in front of her and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"He wouldn't leave you," Grace said firmly. "Not like this."
Lauren shook her head against Grace's shoulder.
"He promised," she whispered. "He promised me we were done with fear."
Grace's stomach twisted.
Inside the house, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Mark's jacket hung by the door. His shoes were still where he'd left them. A half-empty mug sat on the kitchen counter.
A life paused mid-sentence.
Grace walked slowly through the rooms, every instinct screaming.
"Has he received any threats?" Grace asked quietly.
Lauren hesitated.
"No," she said. Then softer, "At least… none that I know of."
Grace stopped.
"You're not sure," she said.
Lauren swallowed.
"He mentioned something strange last week," she admitted. "He said someone had been asking about me. About my schedule."
Grace felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"Did he say who?"
Lauren shook her head. "He thought it was nothing."
Grace didn't.
That night, after Lauren finally fell asleep on the couch, Grace stepped outside.
The street was quiet.
Too quiet.
She checked her phone.
No messages.
No calls.
Then her screen lit up.
One notification.
Unknown number.
Grace stared at it for a long moment before opening it.
A single message appeared.
Everything you touch breaks, Grace.
Her blood ran cold.
A second message followed.
This isn't over.
Grace locked the phone and looked back at the house.
At Lauren sleeping inside.
At the empty space where Mark should have been.
And in that moment, Grace understood something terrifying.
Ted hadn't lost control.
He had changed tactics.