The days following the incident flew by, with both tense moments and quiet times to recover. Ellen couldn't shake the memory of the gunshot, the shattered glass, and the bodyguards circling around her.
Mason, on the other hand, hadn't left her side since that day. He canceled every meeting, every appointment, and worked from home. His office desk remained untouched; instead, his laptop and papers filled the dining room table. Every time Ellen looked at him, she noticed the serious focus on his face, a quiet commitment to protect her from harm.
She had already told him everything. The bloody roses, the near-miss with the car—every sickening detail. When they talked to the police, she had felt some relief in sharing the burden, hoping they could offer answers. But the police had only taken down the information, leaving her uncertain. Mason, however, seemed sure. "It's the same person," he said to her later, sounding pretty sure about it. "It's all connected."
