Aliya’s POV

This must be some type of sick joke, right?

First, I get a message from him on my phone, and now I’m receiving letters telling me what to do and what not to?

Who the hell is Mr. L?

Could it be Philip?

The thought made my stomach twist. That bastard had always been conniving, always finding ways to get under my skin. But this… this was different. There was something eerily personal about the way Mr. L spoke, like he knew me—really knew me.

I tried to shake it off, but the unease clung to me like a second skin. This wasn’t an admirer, and this wasn’t...