Chapter 3 The Unseen Chains

Celeste hadn’t slept well in weeks. She told herself it was stress. That she was overworked. That her mind was playing tricks on her. But deep down, she knew better. Something had changed after that night in the café. She felt him now. Not just in the corner of her vision, not just in the pit of her stomach. He was everywhere. Or maybe she was losing her mind. That was the worst part—not knowing. She pressed her fingers against her temples as she sat at her desk, trying to focus on the exhibit layouts in front of her. The museum was quiet this early in the morning, the perfect time to get things done. But no matter how many times she adjusted the placements on her screen, she couldn’t concentrate. The feeling was back. That eerie, prickling awareness at the base of her neck. The whisper of unseen eyes watching. She inhaled sharply and turned her head. Nothing. The museum’s office was empty except for her. But the sense of being watched didn’t fade. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe past the paranoia. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. Then her eyes landed on her desk. And her breath stalled in her throat. Lying next to her keyboard was a black satin ribbon. The kind used for tying wrists together. The kind she didn’t own. Celeste stared at it, her pulse pounding in her ears. She reached out hesitantly, fingers ghosting over the smooth fabric. The moment she touched it, a shiver rippled down her spine. It was warm. As if someone had just been holding it. She swallowed, fingers shaking as she curled the ribbon into her palm. No note. No explanation. Just a silent message. A claim. The walls of her office suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. She had locked the doors when she arrived. Hadn’t she? Had someone been in here before her? Had he? Celeste shot up from her chair, grabbing her bag with stiff fingers. She needed to get out of here. Now. ------- The museum halls were quiet as she walked through them, heels clicking softly against the polished floors. Normally, the vast open space calmed her. Today, it felt like a trap. She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, still clutching the black ribbon in her other hand. She should throw it away. Toss it in the trash and forget about it. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew what it meant. Or who had left it. She stepped into the main atrium, heading for the exit—when movement caught her eye. A tall figure in dark clothing, standing near the entrance. Her stomach plummeted. Dominic. He was there. Waiting. A slow, sinking feeling curled through her as she watched him, standing too still, too composed, as if he had all the time in the world. And for the first time, he looked at her without hiding it. Without pretending this was chance. He wanted her to know. Celeste’s grip on her bag tightened, knuckles turning white. She forced herself to keep moving, pushing past the growing sense of inevitability pressing down on her chest. One step. Two. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t stop her. But as she passed by, his voice brushed against her skin like a ghost’s touch. "You should tie your hair up next time." She stopped. The words coiled around her throat, cutting off her breath. She turned her head, heartbeat hammering, but—he was already walking away. Gone. Vanished into the city crowd like he had never been there. But the weight of his words still lingered. He had seen her. And she hadn’t seen him. ------- That night, Celeste locked every door, every window. She double-checked them twice, heart still racing from their encounter. She hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t reacted. Because what could she have said? Her hands trembled as she undressed for bed, slipping into a loose tank top and sleep shorts, trying to ignore the feeling crawling under her skin. She turned off the lights, climbed under the covers, and closed her eyes. Hours passed. Sleep didn’t come. Until it did. Until exhaustion finally pulled her under. And then— She woke up. Her body jerked, breath catching. Something was different. She could feel it before she even opened her eyes. The air in the room was wrong. The sheets beneath her felt too smooth. And then she saw it. Lying on her pillow. A single, black satin ribbon, carefully tied into a bow. Right beside her head. Her pulse roared in her ears. She hadn’t heard anything. Hadn’t felt anything. But someone had been here. Someone had been beside her. And she never even knew. ------- Celeste scrambled out of bed, her breaths shallow and uneven. She turned on the light, scanning the room for any sign of forced entry, any shadow out of place. Nothing. The door was still locked. The windows still latched. But the ribbon was proof she wasn’t alone. She pressed a hand against her chest, struggling to slow her breathing. Her mind raced through every possibility, every rational explanation— None of them made sense. She grabbed the ribbon, clutching it so tightly her fingers ached. This wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t paranoia. It was a message. She looked around the room, forcing herself to think. Could she call someone? Who would believe her? A sharp knock at the front door sent a bolt of fear straight through her. She froze. Another knock. Slow. Measured. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She inched toward the door, pressing her ear against the wood. Silence. She swallowed hard, pulse hammering. She couldn’t ignore this. With trembling fingers, she reached for the peephole. Empty. She hesitated, then unlocked the door and cracked it open just enough to see. The hallway was empty. But lying in front of her door was a small black box. She stared at it, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Slowly, hesitantly, she knelt down and picked it up. Inside, nestled against black velvet, was another ribbon. This time, it had her name embroidered in silver thread. She nearly dropped the box. A chill slithered down her spine, settling deep in her bones. He wasn’t just watching her. He was inside her life now. Inside her home. And there was nothing she could do to stop him