The V-tuber Who Became Obsessed With Me

The reply came quicker than I expected.

My phone buzzed while I was still standing in front of the monitor, eyes fixed on the empty street outside my gate.

I picked it up immediately.

"The car is a rental," the voice said. "Booked under the name Ezekiel Beaufort."

I frowned slightly. "Ezekiel Beaufort."

The name meant nothing.

"Are you sure it isn’t him?" I asked.

I didn’t say the name. I didn’t need to.

A pause on the line. "We’re not certain yet. It could be him. The name might be an alias. I can dig deeper if you want."

I looked back at the screen. The gate. The quiet street. Nothing out of place anymore.

Too clean.

"No," I said. "I’ll handle it myself."

"Are you sure? This could be dangerous. I don’t think your grandfather would approve."

I let out a quiet breath. "Then don’t tell him."

A faint exhale from the other end. "We wouldn’t want to invite his wrath."

"No," I said. "We wouldn’t."

"I’ll check it myself first. If it’s nothing or just a stalker I’ll deal with it."

"And if it’s not?"

I didn’t answer that.

"Send me the name of the rental company," I said. "And the location."

"Alright. Just be careful."

"I will."

I ended the call.

A few seconds later my phone buzzed again.

Harrington Auto Rentals. Brookville Avenue.

I waited till the next morning . I picked up my keys .

I didn’t call Malik.

I didn’t inform anyone in my home .

This was something I needed to see for myself.

Harrington Auto Rentals sat along Brookville Avenue between a pharmacy and a hardware store, its glass front reflecting the late afternoon light in a way that made everything inside look quieter than it was.

A row of vehicles lined the side lot. Clean. Polished. Arranged with intention.

Inside it smelled faintly of air freshener and paper.

A man behind the counter looked up when I walked in.

"Good evening. How can I help you?"

"I’d like to speak to your manager."

A brief pause. "May I ask what this is regarding?"

"It’s important."

He studied me for a second then nodded and disappeared through a door behind him.

The office was small but organized.

Files stacked neatly.

A computer monitor angled slightly to one side. A nameplate on the desk that read

’Raúl Hernández.’

He looked up as I stepped in. "Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

I placed a small piece of paper on his desk. "License plate K7X-9421. I need information on the vehicle."

He barely glanced at it before shaking his head. "I’m sorry ma’am. We don’t disclose customer information."

I expected that. So I didn’t argue.

I sat down.

"My husband rented that car." I let a beat pass. "Ezekiel Beaufort."

No reaction yet.

"He hasn’t come home in three days."

That got his attention.

"I’ve called. Texted. Nothing." I let my voice tighten just slightly. "This morning my daughter asked me where her father was."

His expression shifted.

"I told her he was working," I added quietly. "She’s six." I held his gaze. "She believes me."

He leaned back, exhaling through his nose.

"Have you contacted the police about this? " he asked

" What do you want me to tell them ? That I suspect my husband is cheating on me and I need you to find him for me ..."

" I’m gonna be straight with you Mr Raul " I said putting my hands on his table "the other day I was out and I saw him with a woman, laughing and hugging "I leaned back

"I’m not here to cause trouble," I continued. "I just need to find him and see for myself . To know what I would do or even tell our daughter "

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I really shouldn’t..."

"Please!..I understand your policy," I said.

"I’m not asking for documents. I just wanna know where he is . And where we stand ."

He looked at the plate number. Then at me. Then back at his desk.

"The car hasn’t been returning to our lot regularly," he said finally. "It’s been logged multiple times near the same location."

"Where?"

He hesitated.

Then gave in.

"Sunset Palm Motel. Redcrest Drive."

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded once, already withdrawing from the conversation.

I stood and left.

Outside I picked up my phone and dialed a number .

"I got something," I said as soon as the call connected. "Sending it now. I’ll need backup."

"I’m on my way."

I arrived at Sunset Palm Motel, 1847 Redcrest Drive, at exactly 6:07 PM.

The place looked like it had been built to be forgotten. Low structure. Faded paint. Doors lined in a row, each identical, each closed. The kind of place people passed through without leaving anything behind.

Except this time there it was.

Black sedan. Plate K7X-9421.

Same car. No doubt.

Frank was already there with two men standing a few steps behind him.

"Raina," he said.

"Frank."

He glanced at the car then back at me. "You’re sure?"

"Yes."

That was enough.

Inside the receptionist barely looked up.

"Which room is Ezekiel Beaufort in?" I asked.

She looked up then. "And you are?"

"His wife."

A short pause.

"117."

No hesitation. You can tell she wants nothing to do with this .

"Thank you."

The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, the air heavier than it should have been. I stopped in front of the door and knocked once.

"Room service."

Nothing.

I knocked again, harder.

Still nothing.

I looked at Frank.

He nodded.

The two men stepped forward and kicked the door in.

Fast Movement.

A figure inside already turning. The room was dark, curtains drawn, shadows swallowing everything. But something about the way he moved made my chest tighten before I fully understood why.

He ran. Straight through the back door.

"Go," Frank said.

We moved.

The back exit opened into a narrow strip behind the building. He was already halfway down the metal stairs, boots hitting each step without slowing.

We followed, the echo sharp and too loud in the narrow space.

He reached the bottom before us. Hit the parking lot running.

Too precise.

He reached the car, pulled the door open, engine already turning before he was fully inside.

"Stop!" one of the men shouted.

Useless.

The engine roared. Tires screeched.

The car shot out of the lot and disappeared into the road before we could close half the distance.

I slowed to a stop.

The air felt different now.

"We lost him" Frank said behind me.

I didn’t turn. I said nothing .

My eyes stayed on the road where the car had vanished.

I stood there for a moment in the stillness of the empty lot.

Then I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone and looked at the dark screen.

He was here.

And now I was certain.