Chapter 19

Sylvester sat at his desk, staring at the phone. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a small lamp by the corner. He had spent the entire day thinking, planning, but there was no way around it anymore. He had to do something—fast. He dialed a number, waiting for the voice on the other end to answer.

“Harris, it’s me.”

“Figured you’d be calling. What’s going on, Sylvester?”

“They’ve crossed the line,” Sylvester said, leaning forward in his chair. “They came after Melinda.”

There was a brief silence before Harris responded. “Who came after her?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you,” Sylvester’s voice was tense. “I need you to dig into this, find out who’s behind it. I’m done waiting around.”

Harris sighed. “I told you this would get messy. You’re sure Derek’s not involved?”

Sylvester hesitated. “He’s in prison. No way he could pull this off from behind bars. But someone connected to him? Maybe.”

“Alright,” Harris said. “I’ll start looking into Derek’s associates. But Sylvester, you need to be careful. If they’re targeting her, they’re getting desperate.”

“I’m aware,” Sylvester replied. “That’s why I’m bringing you in. You’ve never let me down before.”

“I’ll get on it,” Harris promised. “But it might take time. You sure you can wait?”

“No,” Sylvester said flatly. “I can’t.”

---

Later that evening, Sylvester sat down to dinner with Melinda. She looked exhausted, her eyes heavy with worry.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She pushed the food around on her plate. “I’m scared, Sylvester. I don’t know who’s doing this, and the idea that someone could be watching us... it’s terrifying.”

“I’ve got people on it,” he said firmly. “Logan and his team are watching the house. No one’s getting in here without us knowing.”

“But for how long?” she asked, looking up at him. “How long are we going to live like this? Always looking over our shoulders?”

“As long as it takes,” Sylvester replied. “Until I figure out who’s behind this and put an end to it.”

“I can’t help but think it’s Derek,” Melinda said softly.

“It’s not Derek,” Sylvester said quickly, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to convince her or himself. “He’s locked up. He can’t hurt you.”

“He has friends,” she said. “People who could be doing this for him. You know how he is, Sylvester. He wouldn’t just let this go.”

Sylvester leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenched. “I know. But we’ll get through this. I promise.”

---

The next morning, Sylvester was in his office when Logan knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation.

“We need to talk,” Logan said.

Sylvester looked up from his desk. “What is it?”

“One of my guys intercepted a message. Found it taped to the gate outside,” Logan said, tossing a folded note onto the desk. “Thought you’d want to see it.”

Sylvester picked up the note and unfolded it. The message was scrawled in the same jagged handwriting as the others: **“This is your last warning. Leave now, or she’ll pay the price.”**

Sylvester’s hand tightened around the paper. “They’re getting bolder.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “We need to up our security.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” Sylvester said, standing up from his chair. “I don’t care what it costs. Just keep her safe.”

---

Later that evening, Melinda was pacing the living room, her arms crossed over her chest. Sylvester stood by the window, watching her.

“You can’t just keep me locked up here, Sylvester,” she said, her voice rising. “I feel like a prisoner.”

“I’m doing this for your safety,” he replied. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re being protected.”

“Protected?” she scoffed. “I can’t leave the house. I can’t go anywhere without one of your guards following me around. That’s not protection, Sylvester. That’s imprisonment.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” he said, his tone firm. “Whoever’s doing this is serious. I’m not going to let them get to you.”

Melinda stopped pacing and turned to face him, her eyes blazing with frustration. “And what about you? What happens when they come after you?”

“I can handle myself,” Sylvester said.

“No, you can’t,” she shot back. “You’re too focused on your business, on your empire. You think you’re invincible, but you’re not.”

Sylvester sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Melinda, please. Trust me. I’m doing everything I can to keep us safe.”

Melinda shook her head. “You don’t get it. You’re always in control, always one step ahead, but this? This is different. We’re in danger, and you can’t just brush it off like you do everything else.”

“I’m not brushing it off,” Sylvester said, his voice low. “I’m taking this seriously.”

“Then let me help,” she pleaded. “Let me do something other than sit here and wait for the next threat to show up.”

“You want to help?” Sylvester asked, his tone sharp. “Stay here. Stay safe.”

Melinda glared at him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing.”

Sylvester stepped toward her, his eyes locking with hers. “I’m not losing you, Melinda. Not to them. So, whether you like it or not, you’re staying right here.”

Melinda stared at him for a long moment, her face softening slightly. “Sylvester, I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentler now. “But I’m going to fix this. I swear.”

---

The next few days passed in a blur of tension and unease. Sylvester kept busy with work, but his mind was always on the threats, on Melinda. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something worse was coming. The silence felt too dangerous, too calculated.

Then, one afternoon, Logan came rushing into the office, his expression grim.

“We have a problem,” Logan said, his voice low.

Sylvester looked up from his desk. “What is it?”

“One of my guys found a camera outside,” Logan said. “Someone’s been watching the house.”

Sylvester stood up, his heart racing. “A camera?”

“Yeah,” Logan said. “It was hidden in the bushes near the front gate. They’ve been keeping an eye on us.”

Sylvester’s blood boiled. “Get rid of it. And double the guards. I want this place locked down tighter than a fortress.”

Logan nodded. “Already on it.”

As Logan turned to leave, Sylvester called out, “And find out who put it there.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder. “That’s the plan.”

---

That night, as Sylvester and Melinda sat in the living room, a sudden loud crash echoed from outside. Sylvester jumped to his feet, his heart pounding.

“What was that?” Melinda asked, her voice trembling.

Sylvester grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the stairs. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll handle it.”

“No, I’m coming with you,” she insisted.

“Melinda, no,” he said firmly. “I need you to stay safe. Go upstairs and lock the door.”

Melinda hesitated, her eyes wide with fear, but she nodded. “Be careful.”

Sylvester nodded and watched as she hurried up the stairs before he grabbed a heavy flashlight from the drawer by the door and stepped outside.

The night was dark and quiet, too quiet. Logan’s men were stationed at the perimeter, but something felt off. Sylvester walked cautiously toward the source of the noise, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around, raising the flashlight like a weapon, only to find Logan standing there, his gun drawn.

“Anything?” Logan asked, his voice low.

“Nothing yet,” Sylvester replied, his eyes narrowing.

Logan nodded. “Let’s check the grounds.”

---

After an hour of searching, they found nothing. Whoever had been there was long gone. But the message was clear: **They were being watched.**

Sylvester returned to the house, his mind racing. He found Melinda waiting at the top of the stairs, her face pale.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Sylvester said. “But someone was here.”

Melinda’s eyes widened. “They’re not going to stop, are they?”

“No,” Sylvester said, his voice hard. “But neither am I.”

---

The next morning, Sylvester called Harris again.

“I need an update,” Sylvester said, not bothering with pleasantries.

“I’ve been digging,” Harris replied. “Derek has some old contacts, but none of them are directly involved. However, I did find something interesting.”

“What?”

“Derek’s been making calls from prison,” Harris said. “To a guy named Martin Grant. Name ring any bells?”

Sylvester frowned. “No.”

“Well, he’s been a frequent visitor,” Harris continued. “Seems to be coordinating something on the outside.”

Sylvester’s grip tightened on the phone. “Get me more on Grant. I want to know everything about him.”

“I’m on it,” Harris said. “But be careful, Sylvester!"