“Oh, I’m serious,” I said. “And before you start threatening me again—check the attachments.”
Ethan turned the page, scanned the bold headings, and his mouth opened without making a sound. Patricia reached for the documents with stiff fingers, reading just enough to understand.
Then the front door handle rattled—hard—like someone was trying to force it open.
Ethan stared at me. “Who did you call?”
I didn’t respond.
Because the person outside wasn’t here for me.
The knocking turned into pounding, heavy enough to make the framed photos on the wall shake. Ethan stood halfway up, unsure whether to act like the man of the house or stay the boy who hid behind his mother.
Patricia recovered first. “Ethan,” she whispered sharply, “don’t open it. It’s probably her little drama—one of her friends.”
I walked to the door anyway. My heartbeat stayed oddly steady, like my body had decided it was finished wasting adrenaline on this family.
When I opened it, the hallway light revealed two men and a woman. One man wore a dark windbreaker with a badge clipped to his chest. The other held a clipboard. The woman carried a folder under her arm and had the kind of neutral expression that suggested she’d been trained not to react to chaos.
“Ms. Brooks?” the woman asked.
I nodded. “I’m Natalie Brooks.”
Ethan stiffened behind me. “What is this?”
The man with the badge stepped forward slightly. “Ma’am, I’m Deputy Ortega with the county sheriff’s office. We’re here regarding a civil matter and a complaint filed in your name.”
Patricia stepped forward, her voice sharp with offense. “Sheriff? For what? This is a private home.”
Deputy Ortega didn’t even glance at her. His focus stayed on me, calm and professional. “Ms. Brooks, are you safe? Do you need us to step in right now?”
The question struck me in a way I hadn’t expected. Not because I felt in immediate danger, but because no one in that house had asked me something like that in years. I swallowed.
“I’m safe,” I said. “But yes. Please come in.”
Ethan shoved past Patricia. “No, you can’t just—this is my house!”
The deputy looked at him briefly. “Sir, do you have proof of ownership?”
Ethan opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Behind him, Patricia tried to regain control. “This is ridiculous. She’s being hysterical because we asked for a simple vacation. We’re family.”