Page 17 of Broken Destiny

“Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest, Jiya,” he said after running the search. “Registered to a Dominic Peters, aged forty-five. A family man with two children. Works at a bank.” He paused briefly before adding, half joking, half serious, “Maybe he’s having an affair on that side of town.”

I forced a polite chuckle, though the explanation did little to calm the worry coiling inside me.

“Thanks, Alex,” I said, ending the call.

But I refused to accept that answer.

Jeremy, my foster father, was no longer a threat.

So who could be following me now?

And why?

An empty, hollow sensation stirred in the pit of my stomach as I held my breath.

Sitting down at the dining table, I opened my laptop and began searching for Dominic Peters online. I scrolled through photographs on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, studying every image, hoping to find something—anything—that would explain his presence near my home.

Nothing stood out.

Still, caution held me back from letting my guard down.

I made sure the doors were always locked. The security alarm was always set. And my daily routine never changed. I continued my exercises and workouts without fail. Physical strength had become more than just a habit—it was my armour, my shield against fear. I had never stopped training, not even after Emma’s birth. Every push-up, every run, every stretch reminded me that I was capable of protecting the people who mattered most. It not only strengthened my body, but it also strengthened my mind. Running after the children, lifting them, carrying groceries, managing the restaurant and the cafés—all of it kept me strong, alert, and ready.

Ready for anything.

Jeremy might be gone, but this mysterious car stirred a different kind of trepidation.

With two children depending on me, I couldn’t take risks. I had left my past behind, yet it felt as though the past was reaching out again, knocking on the door I had worked so hard to close.

Whenever I stepped into my car, I found myself scanning the surroundings automatically, my eyes moving from mirror to mirror, searching for movement, for danger. Mace stayed in my handbag at all times. The training sessions Tyrone had put me through came rushing back—how to defend myself, how to react quickly, how to survive.

After dinner one evening, while working on my laptop at the dining table, I glanced toward the living room where the children sat watching television.

“Lucas, brush your teeth and go to bed, please,” I called out. “Take your sister with you.”

“The movie is almost done, Mama. Just a few more minutes,” he pleaded.

I sighed softly, weighing discipline against exhaustion.

“Fine,” I replied. Then I raised my voice slightly. “Geeta?”

“Yes,Didi,” she answered from the kitchen.

“Walk the dogs around in the backyard, then lock the doors and turn on the alarm.”

“Okay,Didi.”

I trusted Geeta completely. She had been with us long enough to understand my concerns without needing explanations. I had told her about the black car, and she took the situation seriously, staying alert whenever she was alone with the children.

Pepper spray remained in her purse at all times, and I had taught her a few basic self-defence moves, just in case.

Ten minutes later, I pushed my chair back and stood up.

Lucas immediately sensed trouble. Running around the couch, he tried to escape, laughing loudly as Emma followed behind him, her tiny feet pounding against the floor.

Oreo and Milo sprang up at once, barking excitedly and racing after them, their nails clicking against the hardwood as they joined the chase, their bodies bouncing as if this sudden burst of energy were the best game of the day.

I chased after the children, unable to hide my smile. Catching Lucas, I scooped him into my arms and began tickling him relentlessly.