Chapter 4 - THE MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
I didn't go back to the house immediately. I spent the afternoon at a quiet hotel downtown, letting my legal team handle the initial fallout. But by midnight, the exhaustion of the day caught up with me, and I drove back to my gated property under the cover of darkness.
The street was dead quiet. The massive iron gate stood locked and imposing under the glow of the motion-activated security lights. Everything looked peaceful.
I parked my SUV in the driveway, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside. The house smelled faintly of lavender and old wood—my sanctuary. I disabled the alarm panel, tossed my keys onto the entryway table, and walked toward the kitchen to pour a glass of water.
That was when I heard it.
A faint scraping sound coming from the back patio.
My muscles locked. I froze by the kitchen island, straining my ears.
Click. Scrape.
Someone was trying to force open the sliding glass door leading from the garden into the living room.
Panic surged through my chest for a fraction of a second, but it was quickly replaced by cold fury. I didn't run. I didn't hide. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, opened the security app, and tapped the live camera feed for the back patio.
There, illuminated by the dim garden lights, was Sergio.
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He looked disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, his hair uncombed, desperately jamming a flathead screwdriver into the frame of the sliding door. He must have climbed the back wall from the alley behind the property.
He was breaking into his own home—or rather, the home he believed he was entitled to steal.
