MY Possessive Mafia Men

Chapter 173: It Could Be Anyone On The Street Chapter 173: It Could Be Anyone On The Street Angha

Trying to ease my frightened nerves by controlling my breath, I went toppen it again. I had been too skittish to get a good look at Mi had been inside the first time, my mouth was dry and the food I had recently eaten didn't feel like it would stay down for much longer The sight of a cute teddy bear shocked my system, especially after i had envisioned something much worse. It looked mucent when t sat inside the box, but every nerve in my body obiected to the sight.

With clammy and shaky hands, I took a picture and a video of it, aware that I could use this for extence later if the price would ever help me. On the bear's was a small white card, reading the front content To my sweetheart."

I felt nauseous looking at the neat and elegant handwriting. My sweetheart, if I didn't know it abeady, I do mrc. When he had called me on my phone, he had also called me his sweetheart. It was disturbing that he called me. The endearment was mocking the real meaning of the words. With a tentative hand, I picked up the card and flipped it, the same handwriting was on the other side, but with a new

message.

Happy one year. I read out loud and then tensed.

Even the sound of my own voice felt unwelcome. Happy one year, what the hell could that mean? Tears veled up in my ee but not fam sadness or fright, I felt that too. But I was also so angry, this person invaded my life like it was his right he gave me threats to keep E away from my men. He texted me and called me. He went into my apartment, taking away my only safe space, where I used to feel secure. Where I should have been able to take a break from everything, it hurther fucking hurt to have some vinate my life like that I hurried the bear away from me and shoved the box off my bed in a bitter sort of rage. If I had a fireplace in the apparment, I wouldn't have besitated to burn it all. Every fiber of the beat, the box and the fucking card.

time I was there. They had made I sound like this was a prank rather than someone who was forcibly entering my life and messing it up while tamiving me in the process. You could count on the police fr one thing, to protect after the fact. They wouldn't do that until

contemplate on. This one had already started alienating me from my best friend because I was too scared of getting Andy hum if I havobed him. This persun was taking

and now he had made me afat to be UT MED home. He had been stripping me of my security and already, after

It didn't. I cried app the teamTS THE IT and only then did I finally find the strength to get up and inspect the door. The door to my apartment was The and pussin way to get inside. I didn't bother to check the window leading to the fre excape because it could any open izpen the inside out. So, he must ove fitted in that way unless he broke the window with i would bune muted. Why waillen eves Kined the antie fax and how to bas 1 couldn't find anything indicating that someone had broken inside. There has aming ese scared me. Because

crity and the topics i de me

a hex am Bokarm sign, i sved sysed up team the wall grabbed the axis drain in my scan and wedged it were

tocals on the sights and Frem as I sat down on the best.

Could Be Anyone On The

No matter what the officer has said, this wasn't a prank. No one would go to these extreme lengths just to meet with someone for a laugh. Why me? I didn't get it. I was so anonymous it wasn't even funny. Besides Andy and my men, I wasn't close with anyone, especially not close enough to get

sounded like a storm, making the walls creak as well. With my overactive brain, the combined sounds made it seem like I was in a horror movie, I kept envisioning someone outside my door, waiting for me to fall asleep. I didn't sleep at all, not even a minute. Instead of sleeping, I focused on making a list of suspects, people 1 needed to look into and learn about. The first few names were easy, given each had shown some interest in me and I didn't have a close relationship with any of them. Then I moved on to the next ones, and they hurt my soul to write up. These were people in my life who I cared for to varying degrees.

I fully believed that if soul friends existed, he would be mine. And yet, the thought that most crimes against a victim were done by someone they were close to had too much of a grip on my paranoia to let him get the