The bell is my cell phone alarm. The harsh ringing drags me out of my erotic dream, and I groan with frustration as I reach for it under my pillow. My body is still quivering in the aftermath of Tornado Judson.

With my blurry eyes I check the screen. Unknown number.

“Hello.” I rest my spinning head onto my pillow, watching the morning light as it pours in through the thin curtain.

“Hi, ummm, is this Ivy Hollifield?”

I rub my tired eyes. “Yes, this is Ivy. May I ask who is calling?”

“This is... this is Jennifer. Jennifer Hanson.”

I snap to a sitting position so fast, I swear the contents of my brain shift out of place. “Jennifer?”

After reading her letters, invading her privacy, I feel as though we know each other on a certain level. She’s like an old friend… whose boyfriend I stole. “How did you—”

“Paulette Stevens, your guidance counselor, gave me your number. She asked me to reach out to you. I hope you don’t mind me calling so early.”

So Paulette lied to me. She said she didn’t know where Jennifer was.

I glance at the clock above Chelsea’s bed. Six-thirty. The alarm clock on my phone is scheduled to ring in about twenty-five minutes. “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but why are you calling?” My cheeks heat. Why would Paulette hand out my number? I draw my knees to my chest and hug them. As my legs press together, the post-orgasm hum between them reminds me of my dirty dream. “I found your letters. I gave them to Paulette.”

“I know. She told me.” A breathy pause. “She also said last time you went to see her, you seemed troubled. She suspects you’re in touch with Professor Devereux. You don’t know me, and you might not want to listen to a word I have to say, but I won’t forgive myself if I don’t warn you against him. He’s really bad news.”

I let out a stream of air to slow my heart rate down. “Sorry, I don’t understand. Why do you feel I need to be warned against him?”

“Because he’s dangerous, Ivy. I… we had a thing last semester.” There’s a crackle on the line, but her voice is clear again almost immediately. “He seemed harmless at first.” Her voice lowers. “Everything was really great, but then he turned into a jealous, controlling jerk.”

“And why do I need to know this?” I scratch my brow, damp with sweat.

“I’m warning you before he gets under your skin. He can be really charming. He can make you feel like you’re the only girl, you know, in the world.”

“I’m not dating Professor Devereux.” Though I’m not even sure whether that’s the truth.

“I’m sure you heard the… the rape story.”

I nod but don’t say anything. My heart squeezes.

“It wasn’t.” She takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t rape. Oliver Banes was my on-again, off-again boyfriend. We broke up briefly, and that’s when...” Her voice drifts off. “Anyway, when I broke things off with Judson, Oliver and I got back together. I loved him. Judson was a mistake.” Her voice is thicker now. Is she crying? “One night Judson let himself into my room. He found me and Oliver in bed together. He went off the rails, accused Oliver of raping me. Two days later, Oliver was dead. I know Judson did it. I said as much to the district attorney.”

“How do you know for sure he did it?”

“His jealousy got the best of him. He refused to let me go.”

I drop my head onto my knees. It feels as though it’s full of heavy rocks. The air I breathe seems to be getting thicker. “I—I’m sorry.” I have no idea what I’m apologizing for. My head is a mess.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I just called to tell you to be careful. He’s incredibly dangerous and possessive. He said he owns me… and tried talking me into moving away with him.”

“He’s in prison. He can’t hurt anyone.” He can’t hurt me.

“Don’t let the prison walls fool you.” She breathes out. “He has money and connections, and he’s persistent. I doubt anything will keep him from getting whatever he wants. That’s why I had to go far away from Oaklow. After his arrest, I thought it was over, but I never felt safe. He wrote me almost every day. And I felt like I was being watched.”

My blood freezes as I think of the letters, the package on my doorstep, the cell phone he’s been using to contact me. Someone must be working for him.

I shut my eyes, forcing myself to banish Judson’s face from my mind. Somehow he has invaded every part of my life.

“Thanks for the warning, Jennifer.” I pause. “But I don’t need it.”

“I don’t know if you’re really in touch with him, Ivy, but if you are, you really should break it off. He’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t want to become his next obsession.”

“Where are you now, Jennifer?” I ask, ignoring her warning.

“I’d rather not say. Goodbye, Ivy. Please be careful. If you want to get a clearer picture of how dangerous an obsessed man can be, read the book Amour Toxique.”

“Amour what?” I rub my forearms. When I was thirteen, my mother tried to force me into French lessons, insisting that one day when my modeling career took me to Paris, I’d thank her. She hired a private tutor, but after three lessons, he threw in the towel, saying in his thick French accent, “Mrs. Hollifield, I’m sorry, but your daughter has no passion for the French language.” In my mind’s eye I can clearly picture him making a steeple of his fingers, his eyes flickering with disappointment as though I had personally let him down. “No passion, no French.”

“Amour Toxique by Adrien Moreau. It’s a popular French novel I once read. I’m sure you’ll be able to find an English version somewhere.”

As we say goodbye, I scribble the name of the book on an old napkin.

As soon as Jennifer hangs up, I text Judson, demanding the truth. I want to know if he’s really as innocent as he claims. I’m so torn between believing him and believing Jennifer. Deep down I know who I should believe, but still I resist.

I switch off my phone, because I don’t even know if I’m ready to hear the truth yet. I start my day with a hot shower and a glass of milk, and go to lectures. At two, I head to town for an interview at Millie’s Book Corner. I have some money saved up, but I don’t want to use it all on day-to-day living. I have to think of the future. The interview is a bright spot in my day. Millie likes me so much, she gives me a part-time bookseller job on the spot. I agree to work on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, and all day on Saturdays. During the holidays, I’ll be able to work full-time.

My good mood collapses when I return to my dorm and find three large boxes addressed to me. My stomach lurches as I haul them inside. I take a deep breath and open the first one.

I shake my head as I pull out belongings from home. Books, photos of me with my mother inside our house in Boston, photos of me and Dad, snapshots of my life. There are pieces of clothing, too, and a few other bits and pieces that are special to me, items that link me to my childhood, to my home. There’s a single note underneath them all.

Here are some of your things. I’m putting the rest in storage. I’m disowning you, Ivy. As of this moment, I no longer have a daughter. Have a nice life. Lenora

I call my mother’s phone, but the number has been disconnected.