Three weeks had passed since Hazel canceled the wedding, but she had never found the peace she hoped for.
She had blocked Roman's number, deleted their photographs, and returned his suits that still hung in her closet. She had hoped that ending the relationship would end the nightmare. It did not. If anything, the situation with Roman got more reckless.
On Monday, she found a bouquet of white peonies on the reception desk of Brooks Weddings with a handwritten card tucked between the stems.
“Please talk to me. — R” She had thrown it away without a single thought.
On Tuesday, the same black Range Rover was parked across from her office building when she left work at seven. Roman sat inside, watching the entrance. He did not approach her. He just watched until she disappeared inside a cab. Hazel made sure to not give him any sort of hope. She thought maybe he was getting the reality check.
Still on Wednesday, he was outside her apartment again.
Hazel stared at him from her bedroom window, her heart pounding against her ribs, as he stood beneath the streetlight with his hands in his pockets, looking up at her floor.
Her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
“I know you saw me. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I miss you.”
She blocked the number and closed the curtains, but her hands would not stop trembling. When Roman saw she was not responding to any of his new numbers, he decided to deliver messages a different way. By Friday, the flowers had become letters.
Olivia placed a thick envelope on the kitchen counter without saying anything. Her normally cheerful expression had been replaced by concern.
"Another one?" Hazel asked quietly.
"He asked the security guard to give it to you," Olivia replied, her voice low. "He said it was important."
Hazel opened it with shaking fingers.
Inside were three pages in Roman's handwriting, the words rushed and uneven.
“Hazel, I swear on my mother's life I never touched her. I hired a private investigator. The hotel manager finally admitted Mandy checked in alone. This may lead to something. Please give me one more chance.”
She folded the letter and threw it into the trash. Reeve had told her to stay away from this mess for the sake of her well being, he told her not to read her book backwards. Hazel closed her eyes for a moment.
"He was near the cafe you like," Olivia said after a moment. "The one on Fifth. You never told him you go there after work, right?"
"No," Hazel whispered. "I never told him."
At night, the intercom buzzed at eleven forty.
Hazel froze on the sofa when she heard his voice. It was slurred and raw, as though he had been drinking for hours.
"Hazel, open the door," Roman said, his breathing heavy against the speaker. "I know you're awake. Your light is on."
"Roman, you need to leave," she said into the intercom, her voice shook. "You are scaring me. Please leave."
"I wouldn't have to scare you if you would just listen," he pleaded, and then his voice cracked. "I brought proof. I brought the hotel receipt. Just open the door for five minutes, baby."
Hazel did not open the door. She knew the receipts were not enough, they would lead to nothing.
A second later, the hallway cameras she checked on her phone showed him outside her actual apartment door, not just the building entrance. He had followed someone. Hazel's eyes blew wide.
He started knocking softly at first, then pounder harder.
"Hazel," he yelled, his fist hitting the wood. "Please."
When she still did not answer, he tried the handle wildly.The handle jiggled.
Hazel's breath stopped.
"Roman, stop," she whispered through the door, her back pressed against the wall. "You can't come in."
"I just want to talk," he insisted, his voice rising. "You are my fiancée, Hazel. You were supposed to be my wife yesterday. You can't just erase three years and lock me out like a stranger. I refuse to let you go no matter what happened. OPEN UP!!!"
He hit the door with his shoulder and Hazel shook like a leaf. The hit on the door was hard enough that the frame shook and a picture on her wall rattled.
Hazel screamed. "Leave me alone!" she cried, tears streaming down her face as she slid to the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. "Please leave me alone!"
The door kept pounding relentlessly. That was when security arrived. Two guards pulled him away from the door while he kept shouting her name down the hallway.
"I love you! I am proving it, Hazel! I am proving that you're mine!"
Hazel stayed on the floor long after his voice faded, her whole body shaking so hard she could not stand.
The following morning, she went to the police station once again. She had been here twice in the past three weeks with no leads so far. Nobody was serious enough to listen to her.
She sat on a hard metal bench for forty minutes with a folder of screenshots clutched in her hands. Her eyes were swollen and her hair was still tied in the messy bun she had slept in.
When her name was finally called, the officer at the desk did not look up from his computer.
"Ms. Brooks, what can we do for you?" he asked.
"He came to my apartment drunk last night," Hazel said quietly, placing the printed messages on the desk. "He followed someone into the building, he tried to open my door, he hit it with his shoulder. He appears everywhere I go. Outside my office, near my apartment, even at a cafe I never told him I visited. He sends flowers, letters, and messages from different numbers."
The officer finally glanced at the papers, then at her face, then back at his screen.
"Did he physically assault you?" he asked.
"No, but—"
"Did he make a direct threat to your life? Did he say he would hurt you?"
Hazel swallowed hard.
"He said I still belong with him and that he will never stop coming for me. He said that while trying to force his way inside my apartment. I was terrified."
The officer typed something slowly.
"Ms. Brooks, I see Mr. Woods is the CEO of Woods Corporation," he said, his tone changing slightly. "Are you sure this is not just a bad breakup? Sometimes men have a hard time letting go. Have you tried talking to him calmly?"
"I reported this because I am scared," Hazel replied insisting, her eyes filling with tears despite every effort to remain composed. "He is scaring me."
The officer sighed and slid a form across the desk toward her.
"We can file a report for your record," he said. "But unless there is physical harm or a clear verbal threat to harm, there is very little we can do. Ms. Brooks. I would advise you to avoid provoking him."
Hazel stared at the officer first, then at the form, “p-provoking him?” Her hands were trembling so badly she could not hold the pen.
She figured that Roman’s attorneys had already called before she even arrived.
She left the station feeling smaller and more trapped than when she had entered.
By two o'clock she was sitting on the familiar gray sofa in Reeve's office. The tea he had given her sat untouched on the table and her knees were pulled tightly together as though she was trying to make herself smaller.
"He tried to break into my apartment last night," she repeated now infront of Dr.Reeve quietly, her voice hoarse. "He was drunk. He jiggled the handle, he hit the door with his shoulder. He kept shouting that I belong with him. The security had to remove him. I thought the door would break, Dr. Reeve. I really thought he would come inside."
Reeve listened without interrupting. His notebook remained closed on his lap.
"I went to the police this morning," Hazel continued, tears slipping down her cheeks. "They did nothing. They said unless he hurts me, they can't do anything. I know his lawyers had already called. His influence... nothing comes of it. I blocked him everywhere, but he appears anyway. He knows places I never told him I go. I no longer know how to make him stop."
Reeve leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, something else flickered in his eyes when she cried.
"You did the right thing by coming here," he said quietly, his voice low and even. "You are safe here, Hazel. You know that, right?"
Hazel nodded quickly, wiping her tears.
"This office is the only place I feel safe anymore," she whispered.
A faint, almost invisible smile touched the corner of Reeve's mouth at her words.
"Have you noticed a pattern in his behavior?" he asked.
"What pattern?" Hazel asked.
"He does not accept rejection, but he does respect power," Reeve said, his tone patient and clinical again, although his eyes remained fixed on her. "He stopped calling when the wedding was still technically on, but he started again the moment you canceled it. He knows a fiancée can be won back. A single woman can be pursued."
Hazel frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying that Roman may never accept a breakup," Reeve explained, his voice dropping slightly. "Men like him see a breakup as a negotiation. But he will eventually accept a marriage. Pursuing a married woman would destroy both his reputation and his company. His board would never allow it."
Hazel stared at him, her lips parting slightly.
"A marriage?" she whispered.
"A temporary one," Reeve clarified, watching her reaction closely. His expression was perfectly calm, but his fingers curled slightly against his knee, as though he was holding something back. "A legal arrangement, not an emotional one. Long enough to create a boundary the law and the press will respect. Long enough to make him understand you are truly gone and let you be."
The clock ticked loudly against the wall.
Hazel could hear her own uneven breathing.
"Are you saying I should marry someone else just to get rid of him?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Reeve held her gaze.
"I am saying you have tried everything else," he replied calmly. "And you are no closer to peace than you were three weeks ago."
Hazel stared at Reeve in disbelief after he calmly asked, "Have you ever considered marrying someone else... just long enough to make him let go?”
