Chapter 21 - A Chilling Final Warning Arrives At My Front Door

Twenty minutes after Mark left my stoop, a sharp knock echoed against my heavy wooden apartment door.
I peered through the brass peephole, but the dimly lit hallway outside appeared entirely empty and quiet.
I slowly turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open just a few inches to check the hallway floor.
Resting on the welcome mat was a plain, heavy manila envelope bearing no postage stamp or return address.
May you like
I picked it up with a trembling hand, locked the door instantly, and sliced open the wax seal on the back.
Inside lay a single photograph of my daughter sleeping in her crib, stamped with an unfamiliar red wax seal from Zurich—proving that someone else was still watching.