Page 116 of Legacy
The fucking loft.
“What the hell are those photos?” I choke out, my voice not my own.
He turns toward the board then looks down at his desk.
Following his eyes, I finally take it all in.
He has things set up across his desk, the shelves, even the walls.
Not things.
My things.
“I was going to explain everything after dinner so I set it all up to show you.”
The lighting is low, just a desk lamp casting warm amber shadows over pages too neat, too knowing. It’s intimate in a way that makes my skin crawl. Like he built a shrine with paper cuts and memory. I see my smile over and over. Frozen. Framed.Owned.
Trinkets I thought I’d lost are scattered across his desk and shelves.
Hair ties, stuffed animals, a necklace, half empty bottle of perfume. My hair brush. Lipstick. A cracked compact mirror. The keychain I lost at a carnival. A movie stub from a night I thought I wasaloneat the theater. A silk scarf I had thought was long gone, folded neatly like it’s waiting for me to claim it.
I take a shaky step forward, my stomach twisting.
A shrine.
Atimeline.
He’s been tracking me like I’m some fugitive and he’s the hunter who never stopped. Every laugh, every glance, every breath I took—catalogued.Frozen in time like I belonged to him.
Like I still do.
“What the hellisall this?”
Angelo circles me, watching me as I spiral.
This is insane.
He’sinsane.
“This is your life,” Angelo says from behind me. “Every part of it.”
My hands clench at my sides as I pick up one of the photos on his desk. It’s me, smiling at some event, but the man beside me has been carefully cut out of the frame.
Russell.
A man I loved. Another to break my heart.
My pulse quickens as I set it down and turn to him.
“You’ve beenstalkingme?”
“No,” he says evenly, his tone calm. “Watching you.Protectingyou.”
“Protecting me?” I echo, disbelief lacing my voice. “From what?”
“From everything you didn’t see coming,” he says, his voice hardening. “From people who didn’t deserve you. From deals that could’ve killed you. From yourself.”
I shake my head, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “You’re insane.”
