Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193

Victoria: POV

1- My voice came out strangled. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

I stood too quickly, my chair scraping loudly against the floo Heads turned. I didn’t care. Just needed to get away from that woman’s smile, from the weight

of invisible eyes.

The bathroom was blessedly empty. I locked myself in a stall and pressed my forehead against the cool metal door, trying to breathe through the panic

attack clawing up my throat.

Is she really there? Or am I losing my mind?

My phone buzzed.

[How does it feel, Victoria? Knowing you’ll never be safe? Knowing every face in every crowd could be me—or someone I’ve paid to watch you?]

I typed back with shaking fingers: What do you want from me?

The response came immediately.

[I want you to go outside. Right now. Alone.]

Why?

[Because if you don’t, I’ll send every piece of evidence I have about what you did to the Vanderbilts to the SEC. And to Julian. And to every media outlet in

New York.]

My heart stopped.

[You’re bluffing.]

A screenshot appeared. An email draft addressed to multiple SEC officials, with attachments labeled Vanderbilt Financial Fraud-Evidence. Below it, another draft to the New York Times. Another to Bloomberg.

(Try me. You have five minutes.]

I stared at the screen, my pulse roaring in my ears. She had evidence. Financial records. Recordings. Everything I’d spent months covering up.

And she’ll use it. She’ll destroy me.

But something didn’t add up. If Catherine wanted to destroy me, why wait? Why play these games?

Because she doesn’t want me destroyed quickly. She wants me to suffer first.

The realization was both terrifying and strangely clarifying. Catherine wasn’t going to send those emails-not yet. Not until she’d wrung every last drop of

fear and humiliation from me.

But I couldn’t risk calling her bluff.

1/4

4:30 pm

Chapter 193

PPM

With trembling hands, I unlocked the ställ and walked back into the restaurant. Richard and his partner were deep in conversation, barely noticing as I

approached.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice remarkably steady. I’m not feeling well. We’ll have to reschedule.”

I didn’t wait for their response. Just grabbed my purse and headed for the exit, my heels clicking against the marble floor like a countdown.

Outside, the afternoon sun was blinding. I fumbled for my sunglasses, scanning the street for-what? Catherine? A hired thug? A ghost?

My phone buzzed.

[Walk to the corner. Turn left. Keep walking until I tell you to stop.]

I should call Marcus. Should call the police. Should do literally anything except follow the instructions of a dead woman.

But my feet were already moving.

Down the block. Past designer boutiques and overpriced cafes. Past tourists taking selfies and businessmen on phone calls. I walked like a woman in a trance, one foot in front of the other, my phone clutched in my white-knuckled grip.

[Stop.]

I froze in front of a narrow alley between two buildings. Dark. Deserted.

[Go inside.]

“No.” I said it out loud, to no one. “No, I’m not-”

My phone rang. I answered without thinking.

“Go. Inside. The. Alley.” Catherine’s distorted voice was cold. Final. “Or I press send on this email to the SEC right now.”

I looked around wildly. The street was crowded, but no one was paying attention to me. Just another woman on her phone.

If I scream, someone will help. If I run-

But Catherine’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.

“You think running will save you? I know where you live, Victoria. Where you work. Where you get your morning coffee. I know your schedule better than you do. So either you walk into that alley right now, or I burn your entire life to the ground. Your choice.”

Fuck.

I stepped into the alley.

It smelled like garbage and piss. The sounds of the street faded behind me as I walked deeper into the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Catherine? My voice echoed off the brick walls. I’m here. What do you-

A figure stepped out from behind a dumpster.

214

4:30 pm

Chapter 193

Nat Catherine:

PPM

A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Face hidden by a ski mask.

“Victoria Astor.” His voice was rough. Unfiltered. Real. “Catherine Vanderbilt sends her regards.”

Before I could scream, he moved.

His fist connected with my stomach, driving the air from my lungs.doubled over, gasping, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

She wanted me to give you a message.” His breath was hot against my ear. “This is just the beginning. Every time you think you’re safe, I’ll be there. Or

someone like me. You’ll never know when. You’ll never know where.”

Then he shoved me.

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