Page 3 of Stalker Daddy

His encrypted words bring confusion to me, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it before the nurses ask me what is going on.I try to assure them that I was fine and that it was nothing, but they still want to check my heart with a stethoscope.

The doctor scowls at me with a squint of her eyes, and I shoot her a sheepish smile.

She wraps the instrument back around her neck and begins to unhook me from the machine.“I don’t see anything wrong with your tests, so you should be able to go home today.”

She takes the tablet from the nurse and scans over the screen with a smile.“And your discharge papers have been approved.You’re all set.”

I thank her, and Vito nods his gratitude.Before she leaves, I have to ask about my manager since her side of the car had taken most of the damage.

“Is she okay?”

The doctor nods.“Yes, and she wants me to relay the message that she needs to do her physical here too so you may return home without her.”

“Oh,” I say absentmindedly.

I’m glad she’s alright.I don’t know what I would have done if she had suffered life-threatening injuries because of a stalker that no one has been able to catch.My stalker seems to be tech-savvy since he had been able to track my address every time I move, and he once got through my security in the backyard until he had been scared off by another layer of hidden sensors.

“There may not be a concussion from the accident, but I would advise you strongly to not come in contact with strong vibrations.”

I open my mouth to object because that would be impossible, I have to practice on my violin, and that has massive vibrations for my ears.Vito clenches my hand; a look of unspeakable domination sets on his hard face.

“I will return your belongings to your husband.”The doctor smiles and turns to leave the room.

I jerk up from the hospital bed.“Wait, he’s not—”

Vito pushes me back down, his lips twisting with a snarl as he reprimands me.“Stay still, Fia.Don’t make your injuries worse.”

“But—” I start to protest, but his big hand clenches on mine in a painfully hard grip.

“Listen to the doctor,” Vito commands with a voice of authority.

Cyrus has that voice too, but it can’t beat Vito’s because my body locks up the tension under my skin to force the obedience to happen.He must have had years of practice from being a commander, but he can be on the lowest rank and still make the higher-ups sweat bullets.

The doctor comes back in with my backpack and a suitcase.I furrow my brows in question, and the doctor sees the suspicion on my face before she smiles.

“This is your husband’s.He was very worried about you that he left this in the waiting area.”

I want to tell her that he’s not my husband no matter how much I want it to be true, but I’m more concerned about the suitcase that clearly isn’t mine.As humiliating as it is to say, all of mine have colorful decorations on them so I can tell which one is mine right off the bat.

It’s for convenience, and that defeats humiliation.

“Alright, I don’t want to see you back in here,” the doctor warns lightly with a finger up, and her kind words wash away a layer of shivers from my spine.

She leaves, and I immediately turn to Vito, his hand still holding mine rather painfully.A look of complete livid rage and haunting grayness as he’s in deep thought about something he’ll most likely not tell me.

For my own good, as Cyrus and Vito would always say when they keep something from me.

“Are you leaving?”I ask, a twinge of panic in my voice.“Where are you going?Why are—”

“Quiet,” he says, and my throat involuntarily closes.“We’re going off the grid for a while until the stalker is found.”

He knows that the stalker had been getting too bold, and today is a testament to how deranged the man is.My manager and I were lucky that we only got minor scratches instead of being in operation rooms.

The stalker knew where I was going to be and that required excessive planning and surveillance because Cyrus hasn’t been sticking to any schedule that my manager had set to prevent predictable harm coming to me.

We do stick to the schedule of performances, but my daily life routine has been switched and altered without disrupting everything that’s happening in our lives.

“What do you mean ‘off the grid’?”I’m scared to ask, but I need to know.

---