“Step right up!” a voice called from a game booth. Rows of toys hung from the top, tempting everyone to try their luck at a rigged game. A guy tossed ring after ring with a girl at his side and a group of people around him, hoping for him to land the perfect shot. They cheered as he won a large teddy bear, handing it over to the ecstatic girl.

Other groups crowded around as some worked with determination in their brows with the miniature saws on pumpkin carving, working on the best designs to take home with them. Nearby, a squealing group of people gathered around barrels filled with water–apple bobbing. Each had someone bent over the edge, desperately trying to catch an apple with their teeth.

Looking around, I breathed a deep breath into my chest and released it. This was a normal fall festival with laughter and smiles around. The weight of everything in my life wouldn’t completely dissolve, but I could enjoy the views–even for just a moment.

“I totally want to get my palm read. Oh! Or some Tarot cards,” Kelly squealed, pointing to a sign depicting a hand. The festival psychic.

“With my luck,” I sighed, “they would tell me that I’m going to die tomorrow or something.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Or... they could tell you that Brent is going to bang you into next week.”

“Eww,” I playfully smacked at her.

The festival around me was a nice distraction, but I couldn’t help the plaguing thoughts that lingered in the back of my mind. Getting sent creepy texts and pictures of someone watching me? No, thank you. I couldn’t quite understand what the goal was—unless it was to unsettle me. If that was the case, mission accomplished.

And who knew how many pictures they had of me?

I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering when Alexander would strike and try to kidnap me. He was far too rich to worry about the consequences and I had a feeling he’d already gone too far with others before. His brazen confidence was startling, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if he got angry.

Kelly finally decided on getting her palm read, and I trailed behind her into the tent, brushing past layers of velvet curtains and soft cotton drapes.

The room was stunning—adorned with intricate tapestries, crystals, and antique brass trinkets that caught the flickering candlelight. It felt like stepping into another world.

Sitting at the table, a woman summoned us with a graceful wave. “Come darlings. Let Madame Dira see what your future holds. Who is first?”

“Me!” Kelly raised her hand.

“Tell me, are we doing palms or tarot?”

As if her question changed the entire ambiance of the room, the flickering candles cast shadows that danced across her face. The air was thick with the scent of incense, curling into tendrils around us.