The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 34

Stepping through the front door, she paused, her eyes sweeping meticulously over the space.

Every detail seemed perfectly normal, entirely untouched since she left—

Or was it?

Her gaze locked onto her nightstand.

She always kept a glass of water right by her bed. She had left in a rush earlier, but she distinctly remembered leaving it more than half full.

Now, the waterline appeared slightly lower than before.

It was just a fraction of an inch, practically imperceptible.

Her slender fingers ghosted over every potential hiding spot in the room, confirming that no covert cameras had been planted.

Then, she sat at her desk, pulled out a pencil, and gently scraped the graphite core with a pocket knife.

The fine, dark powder rained down, quickly forming a small mound on a sheet of blank paper.

Using a tissue to avoid direct contact, she brought the glass over. She scooped up the graphite dust with the blade and lightly dusted the rim of the glass.

Almost instantly, a chaotic mess of fingerprints materialized on the surface.

They were all hers.

Wait...

Found you.

A few partial prints, visibly larger than her own, were layered directly over hers. If one wasn't actively hunting for them, they would be completely overlooked.

Sylvie wet her lips in anticipation. Taking a piece of clear tape, she carefully lifted the foreign fingerprints.

They weren't perfectly pristine, but they confirmed two critical facts.

First, someone was definitely stalking her. They had broken into her room and touched her belongings. She wasn't paranoid.

Second, based on the spread, the intruder was at least a head taller than her, leanly built, with long, elegant fingers.

It was a man. Someone meticulous and highly experienced.

Flashing back to the hem of the dark coat she had briefly spotted in the hospital corridor, the physical profile matched perfectly.

Sylvie began running mental simulations on who would win in a direct physical confrontation.

She had excellent combat technique, but severely lacked raw physical strength. Shepherd used to constantly rap her on the head, criticizing her for being brilliantly talented but fundamentally lazy.

She excelled at stabbing people in the back, or taking down opponents who had zero martial arts training.

But squaring off face-to-face against this phantom stalker? That was a gamble she wasn't entirely confident in.

Fortunately, the intruder hadn't displayed any malicious intent—yet.

Sylvie briefly wondered if Shepherd had tripped an alarm with the feds, exposing her connection to him.

Were government agents secretly investigating her?

Unlikely.

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