Chapter 2 - The Wrong Side of the Door
The security footage was better than any television show I had ever watched.
Lorraine’s face contorted from smug entitlement to absolute rage in a matter of seconds. She slammed her hand against the heavy oak and glass door of my home, the diamonds on her fingers clinking sharply against the pane. When brute force didn't work, she pulled out her phone.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, Ryan’s phone began to buzz on the nightstand.
He groaned, rolling over in the massive king-sized bed, blindly reaching for it. I sat quietly in the velvet armchair by the window, sipping my morning espresso, watching him. I had been awake for hours, buzzing with a cold, calculated energy that I hadn't felt in years.
“Hello?” Ryan mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
Even from across the room, I could hear his mother’s screeching voice echoing through the receiver.
“Ryan Christopher! Your ridiculous smart home system is broken! The keypad is flashing red and it won't accept my master code! Get down here and open this door right now. I have been standing in the cold for ten minutes like some sort of delivery driver!”
Ryan rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “Mom? What time is it? Why are you here at seven in the morning?”
“Because I told you I was coming over to inspect the floral arrangements for tomorrow's dinner!” she snapped. “And your wife needs to be awake to help me. Now get down here!”
Ryan sighed, the sound of a man who was entirely used to bending to his mother's every whim. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the blankets aside and grabbed his robe. “I’m coming, Mom. Just hold on.”
He shuffled out of the bedroom and down the sweeping marble staircase. I followed silently, my bare feet making no sound on the plush carpets.
When Ryan reached the front door, he punched in his own code on the interior keypad to unlock it.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Access Denied.
He frowned, tapping the screen again.
Access Denied.
Outside, Lorraine was glaring through the glass, her designer handbag clutched tightly against her chest. “Open it!” she mouthed, her patience entirely gone.
“It’s jammed or something,” Ryan called out, his voice muffled through the thick, soundproof glass. He grabbed the heavy brass handle and yanked. It didn't budge. The deadbolts were electronically sealed.
“What do you mean it’s jammed? You paid fifty thousand dollars for this security system!” Lorraine yelled back.
“I don't know, Mom!” Ryan shouted, frustration leaking into his voice. He turned around to head for the kitchen, presumably to check the main control panel.
That was when he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs.
I was wearing a tailored silk robe, my hair perfectly styled, holding my espresso cup with the calm elegance of a queen inspecting her castle.
“Elena,” he said, relief washing over his face. “Good, you're up. The front door is acting up. Mom is stuck outside. Can you check the app on your phone and unlock it?”
I took a slow, deliberate sip of my coffee. The bitter, rich taste grounded me.
“The door isn't acting up, Ryan,” I said softly, my voice echoing slightly in the massive foyer.
He stopped in his tracks. “What?”
“The system is working perfectly. It's doing exactly what it was programmed to do. Keep unauthorized personnel off the property.”
Ryan stared at me as if I had suddenly started speaking a foreign language. He looked from me, to his mother fuming outside the glass, and back to me. “Elena, this isn't funny. Open the door. Mom is freezing.”
“She's wearing a four-thousand-dollar cashmere coat, Ryan. I think she’ll survive a crisp morning breeze,” I replied, taking another step down so I was standing on the same level as him. “And I’m not joking. Her access has been permanently revoked.”
Ryan’s face darkened. The easy-going, passive husband disappeared, replaced by the arrogant man his mother had raised him to be. “Listen to me carefully. I know you're upset about the dress yesterday. I know Mom can be a little abrasive. But you do not throw a tantrum and lock my mother out of my house. Now open the damn door before I call the security company to override you.”
I couldn't help it. A small, genuine laugh escaped my lips.
“Your house?” I tilted my head, studying him as if he were a fascinating, slightly pathetic insect. “Ryan, when are you going to realize that you don't own a single brick of this estate?”
“What the hell are you talking about? My name is on the deed!”
“Your name is on a decorative piece of paper filed in a subsidiary LLC,” I corrected him smoothly. “An LLC that is wholly owned by the Sterling Family Trust. My family's trust. The same trust that provided the down payment, the mortgage backing, and the funds for this ridiculous security system. A system, by the way, that recognizes me as the sole administrator.”
Ryan’s jaw slackened. The color began to drain from his face as my words slowly penetrated his thick skull.
Outside, Lorraine began to pound on the glass with both fists. “Ryan! What is going on in there?! Let me in!”
“I suggest you tell her to go home, Ryan,” I said, turning my back on him and walking toward the kitchen. “And remind her about the dinner tomorrow night. I wouldn't miss it for the world. After all, I have a very important apology to deliver.”
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I left him standing in the foyer, staring at the flashing red light of the keypad, while his mother screamed his name from the other side of the impenetrable glass. The game had officially begun, and they didn't even know the rules.
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