At sixty-two, I spent the night with a man twenty-eight years younger than me. I did it because I was tired of being invisible—and because, for once, I wanted passion. But when I woke up alone in the hotel room the next morning, I discovered something terrifying.

And on the bedside table, beside an empty wineglass, was a small white envelope with my name written across it.

My hands began trembling before I even opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

A photograph of me sleeping.

On the back, six words had been written in black ink:

“Now you will do exactly this.”

What do you think Julian wanted from me?

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PART 2

Beneath the photograph was another sheet of paper.

At first, the words blurred in front of me.

Then I forced myself to read them.

Transfer twenty-five thousand dollars before noon.

If you contact the police, the photographs will be sent to your children, your neighbors, and everyone in your address book.