Jacob had planned it for weeks—a quiet weekend by the coast. Just him and Harper. No distractions. No work. Just ocean air and time together.
"You need a break," he told her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek as they packed up the car.
Harper had hesitated, only for a moment. There had been a lingering unease lately—subtle, but real. A sense of being watched. Of someone just out of sight.
But she didn't say anything. Not when Jacob looked at her with such warmth. Not when he had gone through all this trouble.
Sofia stood on the porch, arms folded, watching them go.
"Have fun," she said, forcing a smile.
Harper waved. Jacob gave her a playful salute as they pulled out of the driveway.
The moment they were gone, her smile vanished.
She was alone.
Her mother was out of town on business, and Sofia was supposed to stay at Naomi's for the weekend. That was still the plan. A sleepover. Junk food. Something to distract her from the creeping dread she hadn't been able to shake.
But fate had other plans.
She almost missed the envelope.
It was late afternoon when she wandered down to the mailbox, expecting junk flyers or maybe one of her mom's subscription catalogs.
Instead, there it was. A single white envelope, thin and unassuming—except for one chilling detail.
Her name.
Written in black ink across the front: SOFIA BLAKE
Not "Clara." Not "Harper."
Her real name.
Her hands trembled as she pulled it free, glancing over her shoulder like someone might be watching. The street was empty. Quiet. Still.
She opened it slowly, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Inside were four sheets of paper—printed messages from the dating app. Her messages. Ian's. The flirty beginnings. The subtle manipulation. The lies.
The bait.
And at the bottom of the final page, scrawled in jagged handwriting:
You lied. I don't like liars.
Her breath caught. She staggered back a step, pressing her hand to her mouth.
He knew.
Ian knew it was her.
This wasn't a coincidence. This wasn't some anonymous creep who still thought Harper was Clara.
This was a direct message.
To her.
"Naomi, I need to come over now," Sofia said, voice shaking as she slammed the door behind her.
"Are you okay?" Naomi's voice was calm but urgent.
"No," Sofia whispered. "He left me a letter. At my house. With my name on it."
That night, at Naomi's, the envelope lay between them on the bed like a loaded gun.
"You have to go to the police," Naomi said.
"They won't take me seriously. I used a fake name. I pretended to be someone else." Sofia stared at the wall, hollow. "And now he knows who I am."
Naomi was quiet for a beat. "We can't ignore this anymore."
Sofia's hands clenched into fists. "I just wanted to ruin Harper's life. Not mine."
Naomi looked at her. "You didn't ruin your life. Yet. But if you wait any longer…"
Sofia didn't respond.
Because she already knew.
The game was over.
And Ian wasn't playing anymore.