My father’s hand curled against the window frame.
Rebecca did not react. She took notes.
That was what made me feel strangely steadier. Her calmness gave the horror shape. It became evidence, timeline, motive, people, money, words. Something that could be handled one piece at a time.
When the recording ended, the library was silent.
Rebecca removed her glasses and set them down carefully.
“It’s strong,” she said. “Very strong. But it’s not a magic wand.”
“I know.”
“Good. Because the next few days matter. They will likely panic when they realize you left. Panic makes people careless, but it can also make them dangerous in less obvious ways. Not violent necessarily. Emotional. Legal. Financial. They may try to bait you into messages that make you look unstable.”
My phone vibrated on the table.
All three of us looked at it.
Elias.
His name glowed on the screen with a photo from our engagement picnic, his cheek pressed to mine, sunlight in his dark hair.
My stomach twisted.
The call ended.
A second later, a text appeared.
Where are you?
Then another.
Ella, this isn’t funny.
Then:
My mom said you disappeared from the hotel. Are you trying to embarrass me?
Rebecca held out her hand. “May I?”
I gave her the phone.
She read the messages without expression. “Do you want him to know you’re safe?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. Then, after a breath, “But I don’t want to talk to him.”
Rebecca typed with quick, precise fingers.
I am safe. I need space tonight. Please do not contact me further until tomorrow.
She showed it to me.
“Simple. No accusation. No emotion for him to use.”
I nodded.
She sent it.
For nearly ten seconds, nothing happened.
