My divorced husband kept forcing me to reunite. Later, I found out he was on parole for taking the lives of all his ex-wives. My name is Rachel, and I should have trusted my gut the first time Marcus showed up at my apartment uninvited. It was a Tuesday evening in March when I heard the knocking. Not a normal knock either. Three sharp wraps, then silence, then three more. That was his pattern. The pattern he used when we were married and he’d forgotten his keys. My stomach dropped. I opened the door with the chain still on. Marcus, what are you doing here? He smiled. That smile, the one that used to make my knees weak 7 years ago. Now it just made my skin crawl. Can a guy check on his ex-wife? I was in the neighborhood.

We’ve been divorced for 3 years. You don’t get to just show up. Rachel, come on. Don’t be like that. I brought coffee. He held up two cups from that expensive place downtown. My usual order. Caramel macchiato with extra foam. That detail bothered me more than anything else. He remembered. I didn’t open the chain. I’m busy, Marcus. You need to leave. His smile didn’t fade, but something flickered in his eyes.

Something cold. I just want to talk. 5 minutes. That’s all I’m asking. No. I closed the door. My hands were shaking.

Through the wood, I heard him say, “I’ll be back, Ra. We’re not done.” That was 3 weeks ago. Since then, he’d shown up six more times. I called my best friend, Jennifer, that night. She’d never liked Marcus, not even when we were engaged.

“File a restraining order,” she said immediately. “This is stalking behavior.

I don’t know if I can prove anything. He

hasn’t threatened me. He just keeps showing up.” “Rachel, listen to me. This man gives me the creeps. He always has.

There’s something off about him.” Jennifer worked as a parillegal. She’d seen plenty of cases like this, she said. Men who couldn’t let go. Men who escalated. I promised her I’d think about it. But here’s the thing about Marcus. When we were married, he was never violent. Never raised his voice.

He was controlling, yes, manipulative, absolutely. But violent? I never saw that side of him. Maybe that’s why I hesitated. The next morning, I found flowers on my car. Red roses, two dozen, no card, but I knew they were from him.

My office building had security cameras in the parking garage. I made a mental note to ask for the footage. Work was impossible that day. I’m an accountant at a midsized firm, and I had three client meetings scheduled, but I couldn’t focus. I kept checking my phone, half expecting to see Marcus’ name pop up. During lunch, my co-orker Melissa asked if I was okay. Just dealing with ex-husband drama, I said.

The hot one from the Christmas party 2 years ago. I’d made the mistake of bringing Marcus as my plus one before the divorce was finalized. We were trying to work things out back then.

That lasted about 2 months before I realized I was making a huge mistake.

Yeah, that one. He won’t stop contacting me. Melissa leaned in. Girl, you need to shut that down. My sister went through something similar. It got bad. How bad?

She lowered her voice. He broke into her apartment just to prove he could, just to scare her. My blood ran cold. That afternoon, I called a lawyer, not to file for a restraining order yet, but to understand my options. The lawyer, a woman named Patricia Chen, was direct.

Document everything. Every text, every call, every time he shows up, take photos, save voicemails, build a paper trail. If this escalates, you’ll need evidence. And if he doesn’t stop, then we file for protection. But judges want to see a pattern. Start documenting now.

I started a file on my laptop that night. A spreadsheet actually because that’s what accountants do when their lives fall apart. We make spreadsheets.

Date, time, location, what happened, any witnesses. It looked sparse on the screen. Seven incidents in 3 weeks, but seeing it written out like that made it feel more real, more threatening. Marcus texted me at 11 p.m. I miss you. We were good together. Why can’t you see that? I didn’t respond. Patricia had told me not to engage. Another text. I saw you got the flowers. You used to love roses.

Then we need to talk, Rachel. Face to face. Then I’m not giving up on us. I blocked his number. I should have done it weeks ago. 2 days of silence. I almost relaxed. Then Jennifer called me at work. Her voice tight with panic.

Rachel Marcus showed up at my house. My heart stopped. What? When? 20 minutes ago. He knocked on my door and asked where you were. He said you weren’t answering his calls and he was worried about you. What did you tell him? I told him to leave or I’d call the police. He just smiled at me, Rachel. Like it was funny. Like I was being dramatic. Then he left. I felt sick. Jen, I’m so sorry.

He shouldn’t have. Listen to me. This is serious now. He’s escalating. He went to your best friend’s house. What’s next?

Your parents? Your office? She was right. This had crossed a line. I’m filing for the restraining order today, I said. Right now. Patricia got me in that afternoon. We filled out the paperwork together, the petition for an order of protection. I had to describe every incident, explain why I felt threatened, why I feared for my safety.

Has he ever been violent? Patricia asked. No, not with me. Has he threatened violence? Not explicitly, she nodded, writing notes. The judge will decide if this meets the threshold. It might take a few days to get a hearing.

I left her office feeling both relieved and terrified. Relieved that I was finally taking action. Terrified about how Marcus would react. He found out faster than I expected. That night, my phone rang. Unknown number. Against my better judgment, I answered a restraining order, Rachel. Really?

Marcus’s voice was calm. Too calm.

That’s when he was most dangerous. I’d learned during our marriage. When he was quiet and measured and spoke like he was explaining something simple to a child.

You’ve been stalking me, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. You went to Jennifer’s house. You can’t do that.

Stalking. I was checking on you, making sure you’re okay. Is that a crime now?

Yes, actually. When someone asks you to leave them alone and you don’t, that’s stalking. Silence. Then you’re making a mistake, Rachel. We belong together.

I’ve been trying to show you that we’re divorced, Marcus. We don’t belong together. We haven’t for 3 years. The divorce was your mistake. I never wanted it. I told you we could work through our problems. There was nothing to work through. I didn’t love you anymore. I don’t love you now. I heard him breathe in and out, slow and deliberate. You’ll change your mind, he said. You always do. He hung up. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped my phone. It clattered on the kitchen floor and the screen cracked. I didn’t sleep that night.

Every sound in my apartment building made me jump. Every creek, every footstep in the hallway, every door closing. I kept checking the locks on my door, the chain, the deadbolt. I even pushed a chair under the doororknob like in the movies. The hearing for the restraining order was scheduled for Friday, 3 days away. I took those three days off work, called in sick. I couldn’t focus anyway, and the thought of walking through that parking garage alone made me want to throw up. Jennifer came to stay with me. She brought wine and Chinese takeout, and her boyfriend Tyler, who was 6’3 and had played college football. “I’m not leaving you alone until this is resolved,” she said firmly. “That’s when I knew how serious this was.” “Jennifer had two kids and a demanding job. For her to drop everything and camp out in my apartment meant she was genuinely scared for me.

“Has he contacted you again?” Tyler asked. He was sitting by the window looking out at the parking lot. “No, not since the phone call.” That’s almost worse,” Jennifer muttered. “The silence is worse.” She was right. The not knowing was eating me alive. Thursday afternoon, Patricia called. Rachel, I need to tell you something. It’s about Marcus. My stomach clenched. What? I did some digging, background check, court records, the usual due diligence we do for these cases. And she paused long enough that I knew whatever came next was bad. Marcus has a record. He served 8 years in prison. He got out 14 months ago. The room tilted. Prison for what?

Another pause. Longer this time. Rachel, he was convicted of taking someone’s life. his first wife. Her name was Amanda. I couldn’t breathe. The words didn’t make sense. Marcus was a lot of things, but he wasn’t he couldn’t be.

Are you sure? My voice sounded far away.

I’m looking at the court documents right now. He was convicted of manslaughter.

He served his sentence at Sing Singh.

He’s been on parole since last February.

Last February, 1 month before he started showing up at my apartment. There’s more, Patricia said softly. There was another wife between Amanda and you. Her name was Crystal. She passed away 4 years ago. Ruled an accident at the time. She fell down the stairs in their home. The Chinese food I’d eaten earlier threatened to come back up. Rachel, are you still there? I’m here. Barely. The police investigated Crystal’s passing, but they couldn’t prove anything. Marcus wasn’t charged. But given his history with Amanda and now his behavior with you, Rachel, I think you’re in serious danger. The hearing is tomorrow. I know.

We’ll get that restraining order, but in the meantime, you need to call the police. Tell them everything. Tell them about Marcus’ record, his parole status, the fact that he’s been harassing you. I called the police as soon as we hung up.

Two officers came to my apartment.

Officer Ramirez and Officer Park. They were young, professional, sympathetic. I told them everything. The showing up uninvited, the flowers, the texts, the call, Jennifer’s visit from Marcus. And you’re just now learning about his criminal history? Officer Park asked. We got married 8 years ago. We were only married for 2 years. I guess he served his time before we met, and I just I never thought to look. How could I have been so stupid? How had I not known?

Officer Ramirez made notes. Did he tell you about Amanda? No. He told me he was divorced twice. He said his first wife left him for someone else. He said the second. Marriage was a quick rebound that didn’t work out. Lies, all lies.

And Crystal, did he mention her? Never.

Not once. I didn’t even know she existed until an hour ago. The officers exchanged looks. We’ll contact his parole officer. Officer Park said if he’s been violating parole conditions by stalking you, that’s grounds for revocation. He could go back to prison.

How long will that take? Depends. Could be days, could be weeks. In the meantime, stay vigilant. Don’t go anywhere alone. Keep your doors locked.

If he shows up again, call 911 immediately. Don’t try to talk to him.

After they left, I just sat on my couch staring at the wall. Jennifer sat next to me, her arm around my shoulders. I married someone who took a life, I whispered. I slept next to him for two years. How did I not know? Because he didn’t want you to know, Tyler said from the window. Guys like that are good at hiding who they really are. That night, I couldn’t sleep again. But this time, it wasn’t just fear keeping me awake. It was questions. How many lies had Marcus told me? What else didn’t I know about him? And the biggest question of all, had I been in danger during our entire marriage without realizing it? I thought about Crystal falling down the stairs.

An accident? Was it an accident? Or was it something else? and Amanda manslaughter. What did that mean? What had Marcus done to her? I grabbed my laptop and started searching. Amanda Westbrook, that was her maiden name, according to the court records Patricia had sent me. She passed away in 2008, 16 years ago. I found her obituary first.

Amanda Westbrook Holloway, beloved daughter and sister, taken too soon at age 28. She leaves behind her husband, Marcus, and her parents, Robert and Gene Westbrook. The obituary didn’t say how she passed. They usually don’t when it’s not natural. Causes. I dug deeper. found a newspaper article from a local paper in upstate New York. Man charged in wife’s passing. Marcus Holloway, 30, has been charged with manslaughter in the passing of his wife, Amanda, 28. Police say Amanda passed in their home on the night of March 15th. The cause of her passing has not been released. Holloway is being held without bail. I found the trial coverage. It took months to find all the articles, piecing together the story from different sources. Marcus had claimed Amanda fell and hit her head.

They’d been arguing, he said. She’d been drinking. She slipped, fell, hit the corner of the coffee table. He called 911, but it was too late. The prosecution argued that the injuries weren’t consistent with a fall, that there was evidence of strangulation before the head trauma, that Marcus had staged the scene to look like an accident. The jury convicted him of manslaughter instead of a more serious charge. 8 years in prison. I wanted to throw up. Then I searched for Crystal.

Crystal Morrison. She’d kept her maiden name when she married Marcus. Her obituary was shorter. Crystal Morrison, 32, passed away suddenly on April 3rd, 2021. She is survived by her mother, Linda Morrison, and her husband, Marcus Holloway. April 2021. Four years ago, right after Marcus got out of prison, I found one news article about Crystal’s passing. Barely a mention. Woman found at bottom of staircase. Crystal Morrison, 32, was found deceased at the bottom of the stairs in her home by her husband, Marcus Holloway. Police are investigating, but say there are no signs of foul play. Morrison’s passing appears to be accidental. Appears to be, but was it? Marcus marries Amanda.