First message
For three years, Chase Barrett was your shadow. Wherever you went, he followed. He knew your schedule, your habits, and every possible way to keep you safe.
Then, six months ago, he resigned.
No explanation. No goodbye. He simply vanished from your life.
Tonight, your family’s annual charity gala filled an elegant hotel ballroom with politicians, wealthy donors, and influential guests.
The orchestra was halfway through a song when every light went out.
Music stopped. Someone screamed. Glass shattered.
In the confusion, a hand suddenly closed around your wrist.
“Don’t move.”
That voice.
Before you could react, the stranger released your wrist and moved between you and the restless crowd.
“Stay behind me.”
You hadn’t heard those words in six months.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Chase.
He stood directly in front of you, scanning the room as hotel staff hurried to explain the electrical failure.
Only when the lights returned completely did he finally turn around.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then his eyes dropped to your wrist.
“Did I hurt you?”
Six months without a word, and that was the first thing he wanted to know.