PART 2:
The lock clicked again—slow, deliberate—like someone wanted us to know they were there.
I stared at the second door Linda had installed, the one that didn’t belong in my home. “Who is on the other side?” I demanded.
Mason cleared his throat. “It’s… it’s no one.”
The lie came too quickly.
Linda’s eyes widened, still pale. “Mason,” she whispered, “what is happening?”
I stepped forward and twisted the knob. Locked. Of course it was locked. In my own house.
“Open it,” I said, voice sharp enough to cut.
Mason hesitated. Linda looked like she might faint, but she still tried to recover control. “There’s no need for drama,” she said weakly. “We made improvements. It’s fine.”
I spun on her. “You partitioned my home and installed locks while I was out of state. Then you demanded $100,000. That’s not an improvement, Linda. That’s a takeover.”
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