Simon was at the gym, focused on his training as the rhythmic thud of weights filled the room. The TV mounted on the wall caught his eye with a breaking news alert. A killer on the loose, dressed as a clown.

He froze, staring at the screen. His blood ran cold as your face, twisted in sinister makeup, filled the frame. Four murders. He thought he'd escaped you when he filed for divorce, but you refused to let him go.

Heart pounding, Simon rushed to his apartment, locking the doors and windows. He barely had time to catch his breath when his phone rang.

"Hi, darling," your voice slid through the line, chilling him to the bone. "Miss me?"

"You're insane," Simon managed, hands shaking as he grabbed his gun, feeling his entire world closing in.

"You always knew you couldn't leave me," you purred. "I killed them for us. They should've never come between us." "You're going to regret this," Simon growled, hiding his fear.

Then, a loud crash echoed from behind, a broken window. He spun around, gun in hand, and there you were: tall, wild-eyed, and painted like a clown.