Natalie handed me my phone. Notifications flooded in—bank alerts, automated reminders, and emails flagged by our earlier precaution. Every account now had in-person verification, every financial move traceable. No sudden transfers, no quiet changes.

I sat on the couch, letting my hands rest on my knees, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in months, I could breathe without planning the next countermeasure. I wasn’t safe because the danger was gone—I knew Ethan would always be capable—but I was protected, prepared, and aware.

Natalie’s voice pulled me back. “You need to rest. Strategize later. Right now, you hold the line.”

I nodded, finally letting my shoulders relax. Not completely, not entirely, but enough to feel the difference between fear and focus.