Chapter 18

Over the next few days, Sylvester found himself drowning in work. His career, his empire, was his life’s work, and he wasn’t about to let some idle threats derail it. The break-in, the message, the ominous words painted on his study wall—they were all distractions. Threats he could manage in due time.

The police had assured him that they were investigating. He’d given them all the necessary information, and while they hadn’t come up with anything yet, Sylvester had faith that they would eventually. For now, his priority was his business. He had meetings to attend, contracts to sign, and deals that couldn’t afford to be delayed by a vague sense of danger.

Each morning, he sat at his desk in his sleek office, surrounded by walls of glass that overlooked the city. He liked the view from here. It reminded him of everything he had built, of the power he wielded. The threats didn’t scare him. He had come too far to be frightened off by cowards hiding in the shadows.

But as the days passed, the messages kept coming.

First, it was an anonymous letter left in his mailbox. Short, threatening, and to the point: **“This isn’t over.”**

Sylvester tossed it in the trash.

Next came a phone call in the dead of night. The voice on the other end was distorted, masked by some kind of digital scrambler. “We’re watching you,” it said. “You can’t hide.”

He hung up, his blood pressure barely rising. He wouldn’t allow himself to be rattled by vague threats. He figured it was the same people who had broken into his house the other night. They were trying to scare him, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with.

On the third day, someone slashed the tires of his car while it was parked in front of his office. When his assistant informed him, Sylvester merely waved it off. “Replace them,” he said. “And have the car detailed while you’re at it.”

The threats, the pranks, the petty vandalism—it was all beneath him. **Let the police deal with it,** he thought. He had more important things to do.

But then, everything changed.

---

It was late afternoon when Melinda came to him, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. She held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, her fingers trembling as she handed it to him.

“They’re threatening me, Sylvester,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “They know who I am.”

Sylvester’s stomach dropped as he unfolded the note. The words were scrawled in jagged, angry letters: **“Stay away from him, or you’ll be next.”**

His blood ran cold as he read it. The message wasn’t vague anymore. It wasn’t a distant threat aimed at his business or his property. This was personal. **They had come after Melinda.**

“How did you get this?” he asked, his voice low, controlled.

“It was in my room,” she replied, her eyes darting around as though the walls themselves might be watching her. “I don’t know how they got in, but it was just there, on my nightstand. Sylvester, they were in the house again.”

Sylvester’s grip on the note tightened, the paper crumpling under his fingers. He had tried to brush off the earlier threats, to compartmentalize and focus on his career, but this? This was too much. No one would threaten Melinda. Not while he was still breathing.

“Pack your things,” he said abruptly, his voice sharp.

“What? Why?” Melinda asked, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“You’re moving into my room,” he said, standing up from his desk. His mind was already racing, calculating the steps he needed to take. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not until this is over.”

“Sylvester, I—”

“Just do it, Melinda,” he snapped, cutting her off. “This is serious. They’ve crossed a line.”

Melinda nodded silently and left the room, her face still pale. Sylvester watched her go, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Not Melinda. Not on his watch.

---

Once she was gone, Sylvester pulled out his phone. It was time to take matters into his own hands. The police had been moving too slowly, and now things had escalated to the point where he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He needed protection, and there was only one group of people he trusted for that.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he dialed a number he hadn’t called in years.

The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Yeah?”

“Logan, it’s Sylvester,” he said, his voice steady.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Sylvester Anders? Haven’t heard from you in a while, man.”

“I know,” Sylvester replied. “I need you back. I need the whole team back.”

There was another pause, and Sylvester could hear Logan’s wheels turning. “You sure about that? Thought you didn’t need us anymore. Said you were done with all this.”

“That was then,” Sylvester said, his voice hardening. “This is different.”

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, his voice lowering.

“I’m getting threats,” Sylvester explained, keeping his tone clipped. “At first, I didn’t take them seriously. But now they’ve come after someone I care about. I need you to handle it.”

“Who’s coming after you?” Logan asked, the edge of concern creeping into his voice.

“I don’t know yet,” Sylvester admitted. “But that’s why I need you. I need people I can trust.”

Logan was silent for a moment, but then he sighed. “Alright. We’ll be there.”

“How soon can you get here?”

“Give me 24 hours,” Logan said. “We’ll be ready.”

“Good,” Sylvester said, hanging up without another word.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. Logan and his team had been his bodyguards for years, back when Sylvester’s business was still growing, and he had more enemies than he could count. They were the best—ex-military, highly trained, and fiercely loyal. Sylvester had dismissed them years ago when things had finally settled down, but now, he needed them more than ever.

---

The next morning, Logan arrived at the estate, along with three other men. They were dressed in black, their faces stern and serious. They looked like soldiers, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Logan approached Sylvester, extending a hand. “Good to see you again, Sylvester.”

Sylvester shook his hand firmly. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Logan nodded, his eyes scanning the estate. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But first, we need to secure the house.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” Sylvester said, his voice grim. “I don’t want them getting anywhere near Melinda.”

Logan nodded and gestured to his team. “Let’s move.”

The men spread out, checking every corner of the estate, securing doors, windows, and every possible point of entry. Sylvester watched them work, his jaw clenched. He had forgotten how thorough they were, how methodical.

By the time they were finished, the house felt like a fortress.

“We’ll have someone stationed at the front and back of the house at all times,” Logan informed him. “No one’s getting in without us knowing.”

“Good,” Sylvester said. “I want you to be especially careful with Melinda. She’s the one they’re targeting now.”

Logan nodded. “Understood. We’ll keep her safe.”

---

That night, for the first time in days, Sylvester allowed himself to relax. Logan’s presence, along with his team, brought him a sense of security he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He stayed close to Melinda, making sure she felt safe as well.

But even as the house settled into an uneasy quiet, Sylvester’s mind was still racing. **Who were these people?** And why had they escalated from petty threats to targeting Melinda?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all tied back to Derek. Maybe it wasn’t Derek directly, but someone in his orbit. Someone who wanted revenge for what Sylvester had done. Derek had always been unpredictable, even before their fallout. He had made dangerous friends over the years, and it wouldn’t surprise Sylvester if one of them had taken up his cause.

But there was no proof. Not yet.

As he lay in bed that night, Melinda asleep beside him, Sylvester stared up at the ceiling, his mind churning. The threats weren’t going to stop, not until he took real action. He couldn’t just sit back and wait for the police to piece things together.

He had to go on the offensive. He had to find out who was behind this before they could strike again.

---

Over the next few days, Logan’s team kept a close watch on the house, and the threats stopped. The letters, the phone calls, the vandalism—it all ceased as suddenly as it had started. Sylvester wasn’t naïve enough to believe it was over, but the temporary calm gave him a chance to plan his next move.

He wasn’t going to let this go. He wasn’t going to sit by and wait for the next attack.

The people responsible had made a fatal mistake—they had gone after Melinda. And now, Sylvester was going to make sure they paid for it.