Chapter 3Who Lives in My House Now?

The inside of the apartment was a disaster.

My meticulously chosen wallpaper, a soft cream with a subtle texture, was scarred with scuffs, stains, and what looked like crayon marks. The floor tiles were scratched and chipped, some cracked straight through. My two-thousand-dollar Italian leather sofa was a Jackson Pollock of mysterious, grimy spots.

Nothing looked like the home I had so carefully created.

The woman, Cindy, rushed into a bedroom and returned moments later, thrusting a document in my face. "See? A real, official property deed. Tower 1, Unit B, 1901. Owners: Leo and Cindy Miller."

My mind went blank. I fumbled in my purse and pulled out my own folder. I opened my deed, right there in front of her. Her smug expression melted into confusion.

Because my document also read: Tower 1, Unit B, 1901. Owner: Sarah Jenkins.

Leo snatched my deed from my hands, flipping it over and over before tossing it onto the floor. "Get out of here with that fake crap! You think you can just scam your way into an apartment? This isn't a free-for-all, lady. It's a million-dollar property."

Cindy chimed in with a mocking laugh. "Seriously, lady. Some people rent their whole lives and do just fine. Did you really think you could just waltz in here and steal someone's home? We're not idiots."

She was right about one thing. It was a million-dollar property. And there was no way in hell I was going to let someone else live in it for free.

My eyes scanned the room. The layout was the same, just… desecrated. I had overseen every detail of the renovation myself. Kevin had never shown up once. Suddenly, memories of the design flooded back to me.

I began to speak, my voice steady and clear. "The master bedroom closet doors are white with a hidden grain pattern. The dresser against the wall has six drawers, and the handles are shaped like little pigs." I looked straight at them. "The handle on the second bedroom door is Peppa Pig. The master is Mommy Pig."

"The wallpaper in the master bedroom is an underwater ocean scene. The second bedroom is a starry night sky…"

Before I could finish, their jaws had dropped. Cindy pointed a trembling finger at me. "You… have you been in our apartment before? While we were out? How else could you know all that?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "I told you, this is my house. I designed it. I remember every single detail because I poured my soul into it."

They exchanged a nervous glance. Then, Leo grabbed his phone. "Brenda? You need to get over here. Now. We've got a real situation."

They didn't offer me a seat, just left me standing awkwardly by the door. This was my home. I had lived here. Acting on instinct, I opened the shoe cabinet by the entrance. A wave of stench—stale sweat and old leather—hit me.

Holding my breath, I reached up to the topmost shelf, my fingers searching the back corner. And there it was. A small, cool piece of metal.

A spare key.

It was an old habit of mine, always keeping a spare in the shoe cabinet. I never knew why, I just did it. And now, holding it in my hand, every last shred of doubt vanished. This was my house.