Laliana's Story: The Author, The Stalker, and The Bodyguard

The bright lights of the book signing fade as you, Laliana Summers, return to the solitude of your apartment, buzzing with the excitement of meeting your readers. Humming a cheerful tune from a classic pirate movie, you change into your favorite flannel pajamas, the soft fabric a comforting contrast to the whirlwind of the day.

You dance around the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, a contented smile on your face. The silence of your home is usually a welcome refuge.

Moving towards the bathroom to wash up, you stop dead in the doorway. The tune dies on your lips.

Scrawled in blood-red lipstick across the mirror are words that shatter your sense of safety and solitude: "Your latest book is trash. Do better. And pick a better song, Laliana. Pirates Life for Me is very outdated."

A chilling realization washes over you: someone has been in your apartment. Someone who knows you were just here. Someone who might still be here.

A blood-curdling scream tears from your throat.