Page 177 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

"You feeling left out, baby?”

Then—cold, matter-of-fact—“Here’s the truth, Poppy. I’ve never dated a single woman at the courthouse. Much less slept with one.”

That makes her blink. Quick. Sharp.

She lifts her chin. “Like that’s believable.”

“It should be.”

“Come on.” She scoffs again. “They can’t all be lying. That doesn’t change the way they talk about you.”

“No,” I say, voice going cold. “But it should change the wayyouthink about me.”

Her lips part like she might answer, but nothing comes out. I see the hesitation in her eyes. The shift. The something she’s about to say but doesn’t.

I look down—just for a second—at her mouth.

If I stay here, I’ll say something I can’t take back. Something like:it matters, Poppy. What you think of me fucking matters.

So I don’t stay.

I grab the door and swing it open.

“I’m going to sort through the files from today,” I say over my shoulder, voice clipped. “Thanks for lunch.”

The door slams behind me.

And I walk away without looking back.

Be my good girl. Wear this for me today. Only this. I’ll be watching.

I’m standing in front of my mirror, thinking about the note he left—folded precisely, with three little origami cranes beside it. His cologne clung to the paper like a fingerprint.

I did what he wanted. Or thought I did.

Clearly not, because there’s been nothing from him all day.

No message. No sign.

No silent littleI-see-youtext to make my stomach swoop and my skin prickle.

Just silence.

“Way to go, Poppy,” I mumble. “You broke your stalker.”

I should feel relieved. Safe.

But all I feel is... empty. Like someone rewired my chest wrong.

“Holy pepperoni on a pogo stick, this is getting pathetic.”

I tug a soft cami over my head. The matching shorts follow, brushing the tops of my thighs in a way that makes me shiver, even though the house is warm.

Settling on the living room floor with a sigh, I spread the case files around me, a glass of red wine near the edge of the coffee table.

The wine helps take the edge off.

Lets me pretend I’m not waiting to see if my stalker will text me.

---