Chapter 7 - The Uninvited Guest
Rebecca Lawson’s luxury high-rise apartment complex in downtown Chicago was the epitome of pretentious modern wealth—floor-to-ceiling glass, polished brass elevator banks, and a twenty-four-hour doorman who took his job far too seriously. Unfortunately for Rebecca, my name was still legally tied to several property holdings through mutual acquaintance networks, and getting past the front desk was as simple as flashing a confident smile and a valid driver's license. I stepped out of the silent elevator on the fourteenth floor, my heels clicking rhythmically against the plush charcoal-gray hallway carpet.
I stopped in front of door 1404, adjusted the lapel of my tailored wool coat, and raised my hand to press the doorbell. A heavy, muffled sound of movement came from inside the apartment, followed by the frantic clicking of a deadbolt sliding into place.
"I told you, Daniel, I'm not answering my phone! Leave me alone!" Rebecca’s voice shrilled through the heavy oak door, laced with sheer, unadulterated panic. "Your wife's lawyer has already subpoenaed my bank records! We're finished!"
I leaned in close to the intercom speaker, letting a cold, humorless smile touch my lips. "It's not Daniel, Rebecca. Open the door before I have the building management pick the lock."
A dead silence fell over the apartment. You could practically hear the collective sound of Rebecca’s soul leaving her body. Footsteps scuffled frantically against the hardwood floor inside, and a second later, the lock clicked back. The door swung open six inches, restrained by a heavy security chain. Rebecca peeked through the gap, her face entirely devoid of makeup, her hair tied back in a greasy, frantic knot. The arrogant, crimson-lipped seductress from the Italian steakhouse had completely vanished, replaced by a terrified, cornered coward.
"Sarah," she choked out, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the door. "What… what are you doing here? This is harassment. I’ll call the police."
"Go ahead," I replied smoothly, stepping forward so the door could go no further, locking my eyes onto hers with unyielding fury. "Tell the police that your married lover’s wife came to hand-deliver a little reminder of what happens when you play games you can't win."
Rebecca swallowed hard, her eyes darting frantically down the hallway. "It was a mistake. Daniel told me you guys were practically separated, that you hadn't shared a bed in years—"
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"Daniel lies, Rebecca. That's what he does for a living," I interrupted, cutting her off with a sharp wave of my hand. "And you? You've been trying to tear down my life since our college dorm days because you can't stand the fact that I actually build things while you only know how to steal them. Enjoy your unemployment, Rebecca. Because by the end of the week, Vanguard Tech's audit will show every single luxury handbag, lease payment, and vacation package Daniel funneled into your bank account using corporate funds. You're not just losing a boyfriend. You're facing federal wire fraud charges."
Before she could utter a single syllable of defense, I turned on my heel and walked back toward the elevator, leaving her sobbing hysterically behind a slammed and locked door.
