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She was once involved in a forbidden romance. Perhaps there’s a clue to what happened, and if it was worth it in the end? That could help me make sense of what I feel—or should feel for Briar.

Digging through the items, I spill them over my bed. That packet of notes flutters around like paper shooting stars, and I grab the one I had already opened.

I can’t stand to see him touch you.

There are more notes. Torn pieces of paper, quick scribbles, as if done on the move.

You looked beautiful tonight.

I saw the tears.

That’s my favorite dress.

I need you.

Come to me.

My heart pounds. They’re small moments in time. My mother was a married woman, and though the sanctity of marriage is important to me, she was forced into it. Clearly, she loved another—affair seems too harsh a word for this.

I pick up another note.

She looks just like you.

My heart breaks, and I sniffle. It’s about me.

Does this mean he was here, in the house? I glance around my bedroom, searching for a clue that could give him away. It’s imperative to know who he is.

My eyes snag on something by the far light. It never worked, no matter how many times I complained to my father. In the corner is a slip of wire.

Odd. I know this room intimately well. I’ve never noticed that.

Hauling my chair over, I balance on the edge, reaching toward the ceiling. The wire hanging is a slip of yellow, as if it’s come loose. My fingers trace the end until I lift it. The trim falls away, and instead of a light, there’s a small camera.

It’s a spying camera, meant to be discreet. In my room.

“Cazzo,” I mutter, cheeks flushing.

How long has there been a camera in my room? I’ve walked this space—my personal space—nude. I’ve cried in here. I’ve⁠—

“Briar,” I whisper, dropping the wires as if burned. No. Fear clamps a hard fist around my throat.

Slowly, I step from the chair and grab the wall for stability. I’m going to be ill. Someone could’ve been watching me—watching us—this whole time.

Rigidly, I turn and retrieve my phone from the end table. Opening the messages from Briar, I send a text.

Did you put a camera in my room?

Stalker: We’re talking now? Quick fight.

Briar.

Stalker: Yes, Sunshine?

Did you put a camera in my room?

There’s a pause. Now that I know what his face looks like, I can imagine the line between his brows as he thinks.

Stalker: I didn’t put the original one in there. When I came over the first time, I replaced it with mine.