Chapter 2

The central park was in even worse shape.

The benches were caked in dust, the children’s slide was rusted, and sharp pieces of peeled metal jutted out.

It was a massive safety hazard.

As I was taking pictures, a sudden gasp echoed from up ahead.

An elderly woman, Mrs. Ruth, was struggling to push a wheelchair down the narrow path. In the chair sat a little girl, Lily, her leg in a plaster cast.

A massive Mercedes G-Wagon was parked sideways, completely blocking the wheelchair ramp.

Mrs. Ruth was looking around frantically, tears in her eyes.

I stepped forward. "Don't worry, let me help you."

But just as I reached for the wheelchair, a vicious bark shattered the air.

A massive, unleashed Alaskan Malamute charged straight toward the wheelchair.

Lily screamed, covering her head, while Mrs. Ruth slipped and fell to the ground in terror.

Acting on instinct, I kicked the dog hard in the ribs, sending it tumbling away.

"Oh my god! My baby!"

A woman wearing a tight pencil skirt and ridiculously high stilettos came running over.

She clutched a Hermès Birkin bag, her face painted in makeup so thick it looked like wet plaster.

This was Brenda Miller, the wife of the community manager, Richard Miller.

Brenda rushed to her dog's side, then whipped her head up to glare at me.

"Did you just kick my dog?!"

"Your dog wasn't on a leash. It almost attacked a little girl."

"Bullshit! My baby would never bite anyone!"

She eyed me up and down, her gaze lingering on my plain white tee and canvas sneakers. A look of pure disgust crossed her face.

"Look at you, dressed like a beggar. You couldn't even afford a single bag of my baby's premium dog food!"

"Where did this trailer trash come from? How did you even sneak into a high-end gated community?"

I ignored her, turning around to help Mrs. Ruth up.

Mrs. Ruth’s face was pale. "Sweetheart, just go. You don't want to mess with her."

"Hey, old hag! Who are you calling a monster?" Brenda shrieked.

I let out a cold laugh. "Your car is blocking the ramp, making it impossible for an elderly woman and a child to pass. And yet, you're blaming them?"

"Damn right! It’s my car, and I’ll park it wherever I want! My husband runs this entire place!"

Suddenly, her eyes caught a faint, pre-existing scratch on her car door. Her eyes gleamed with malice, and she began to scream.

"Aha! Not only did you kick my dog, but you also keyed my car! This is a three-hundred-thousand-dollar G-Wagon! You can't afford to pay for this!"

"First of all, I didn't touch your car. Second, parking on the pedestrian ramp is illegal."

"Shut up!"

Brenda reached out and grabbed my collar.

"You're just a thief scouting the neighborhood! You're not leaving until you pay me fifty grand!"

I slapped her hand away.

"Watch your hands."

Brenda stumbled back half a step, staring at me in absolute disbelief.

The next second, she raised her right hand.

SLAP!

A stinging blow landed squarely on my left cheek.

My head snapped back, and I tasted copper in my mouth.

Mrs. Ruth screamed, "How can you hit her?!"

Brenda put her hands on her hips, sneering.

"So what if I hit her? I’m going to have her legs broken and throw her out of this gate!"

I turned my head back and stared at her coldly, as if looking at a dead woman.