Chapter 2

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of my hotel room, holding a glass of champagne.

My phone screen was lit up, showing a live security feed of my garage.

To make sure I didn't miss a thing, I had secretly installed several HD cameras covering every single angle before I left.

On the screen, Marcus’s car was still parked comfortably in my garage.

Not only that, but several boxes of his inventory—looks like unsold lighting fixtures from his shop—were now stacked in the corner.

Just then, his wife, Brenda, waddled into the frame, carrying a massive cardboard box.

She shoved it onto the top shelf of my unused bookcase. She even used her sleeve to wipe the dust off the shelf, looking around as if she owned the place.

She spoke into her phone, her voice coming through the mic crystal clear:

"Marcus said this neighbor is a pushover. She doesn't care at all, so we can use the garage however we want. Since her cheap door is broken anyway, we might as well take advantage of it."

I took a sip of my champagne, feeling incredibly pleased.

Perfect. The prey was walking straight into the trap, and I was hundreds of miles away.

Over the next few weeks, I watched my garage turn into Marcus’s personal warehouse and junkyard like I was watching a reality TV show.

First, it was a few boxes of lights. Then, rolls of wire and half-empty paint cans.

Eventually, they even shoved in their son's old desk and computer.

My cracked renovation materials had been kicked into the darkest corner, gathering dust.

I watched the feed as Marcus directed his workers to squeeze a half-broken, rusty old freezer into my already packed garage.

Greed has no bottom.

All I had to do was dig the hole remotely. I didn't even need to be there to push him in.

My trip to New York was coming to an end. The timing was perfect.

From my hotel room, I contacted the smart home installation company I had researched earlier.

"Yes, the order we discussed. You can start the installation now," I spoke into my headset.

"I've detailed everything in the email. If any neighbors ask, just tell them it's a routine remote maintenance order from the owner. No need to chat."

"Understood, Ms. Miller. Once it's installed, all controls will be transferred to your phone app."

On the day of the installation, I watched the whole thing on my live feed.

The professional team was fast. The old, broken door was gone, and the new smart roller door was installed flawlessly.

The sleek silver-gray door looked high-end and operated in near silence.

The commotion brought Marcus out.

He walked around the new door, his eyes a mix of surprise and a sneaky sort of joy.

He tried to strike up a conversation with the technician.

"Hey, is the owner back? Why the sudden repair?"

The technician didn't even look up, giving the exact answer I had prepared.

"No idea. We just follow the order. The owner booked it remotely."

"Ah..." Marcus nodded thoughtfully. He rubbed his hand over the smooth metal door and muttered under his breath, "Well, it looks safer now anyway. My goods... I mean, she won't be back anytime soon anyway."

He had no idea that this door, which he thought was protecting his stash, was about to become his worst nightmare.

After the team left, I looked at the app notification on my phone.

I gently swiped the screen.

The door rolled up silently, then rolled down.

A satisfying click sounded as it locked shut, and the app chirped to confirm.

I had left him a working door, just like I had left him one last chance.

But he would never take it.