PART 3
I turned the screen around.
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My security camera feed showed Chloe pounding on my door.
Eight people stood in the hallway.
Two children were sitting on top of their luggage.
Robert, Derek’s father, was looking around the hallway impatiently.
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Susan was checking her phone.
And Chloe was repeatedly pressing a key against a lock that no longer had a keyhole.
Mom’s expression changed.
“You actually changed the lock?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling us?”
“Why would I need permission?”
Mom looked offended.
“Because we are your parents.”
“And I’m thirty-six.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Watch your tone.”
“I’m watching it.”
There was a moment of silence.
Then Chloe called Mom through another phone.
Mom immediately answered.
I could hear Chloe’s voice through the speaker.
“Mom, he changed the lock and won’t give me the code.”
Mom looked at me.
“Ethan, just give her the code.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I said no.”
Chloe shouted from the hallway.
“Ethan!”
I heard her through my phone because my camera microphone picked up the sound.
“You’re seriously doing this?”
I didn’t answer.
She knocked again.
Harder.
Derek looked embarrassed.
“Chloe, maybe we should just call him.”
“I am calling him!”
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re demanding access to my home after I explicitly told you no.”
Derek’s voice suddenly came through the hallway.
“Ethan, this is Derek.”
“I know.”
“Look, I understand you’re upset, but we’re already here. Can we please work something out?”
I almost laughed.
Work something out.
That was what people said when they wanted you to compromise on something they had already taken.
“You can work something out by going home.”
Chloe stared directly into the camera.
“You can’t do this to me.”
“I can.”
“You’re humiliating me in front of Derek’s parents.”
“You humiliated yourself when you invited eight people into an apartment that wasn’t yours.”
Her face turned red.
Mom immediately interrupted.
“Ethan, enough.”
“No, Mom. Not enough.”
I had spent years swallowing words because I didn’t want arguments.
I had stayed quiet when Chloe borrowed my car and returned it nearly empty.
I had stayed quiet when she opened packages addressed to me.
I had stayed quiet when she moved things in my apartment.
I had stayed quiet when Mom said, “That’s just how Chloe is.”
But something inside me had finally snapped.
“You all keep calling me selfish because I have boundaries,” I said. “But none of you have ever asked why I need those boundaries.”
Dad stared at me.
I continued.
“After my divorce, this apartment became the one place where Leo feels like he has a home with me. His drawings are on the refrigerator. His school projects are in the second bedroom. His favorite dinosaur blanket is on his bed. His medicine is in the bathroom cabinet. His things are here because this is his home too.”
My voice became quieter.
“And Chloe thinks she can turn it into a hotel.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Susan stepped closer to the camera.
“Ethan, I’m Derek’s mother.”
“I know.”
“I think this has become a misunderstanding.”
“No,” I said. “It hasn’t.”
She looked confused.
“Chloe told us your apartment was available.”
“Chloe was wrong.”
“She said you weren’t using it.”
“I am using it.”
“But you aren’t staying there this weekend.”
“That doesn’t make it available.”
Robert shook his head.
“This is ridiculous. We drove three hours.”
“I understand.”
“We have children.”
“I understand.”
“We have nowhere else to stay downtown.”
“That isn’t my responsibility.”
He stared at me as if I had just insulted him.
Perhaps I had.
But I wasn’t going to apologize.
Then Leo called.
Dad had been speaking when my phone buzzed.
“Dad, can I call you back?”
I ended the family call.
I answered Leo.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we still going to make pizza tonight?”
I smiled despite everything.
“Absolutely.”
“Can I make the dinosaur one?”
“Of course.”
“Mom said I can stay until Sunday.”
“That’s right.”
There was a pause.
“Is Aunt Chloe coming?”
I looked at the camera.
She was still standing outside my apartment.
“No,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because she has her own house.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
Then Leo asked something that stopped me.
“Dad, did Aunt Chloe take our house?”
My chest tightened.
“No, buddy.”
“But she used to come inside without asking.”
I closed my eyes.
“You noticed?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded confused.
“She moved my dinosaur box.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said.
“It’s okay.”
Then he asked:
“Is she mad?”
“Probably.”
“Are you?”
I looked at the hallway camera again.
Chloe was still there.
“No,” I told him.
“I’m not mad.”
I was lying.
I was furious.
But not at Leo.
“Okay,” he said happily. “Can we make pizza now?”
“Absolutely.”
We hung up.
I returned to the camera feed.
The hallway had changed.
Derek had pulled Chloe aside.
His parents were whispering.
His brother, Mark, was looking uncomfortable.
Then Chloe turned toward the camera.
“Fine,” she said loudly.
“If you want to act like this, we’re leaving.”
I didn’t respond.
She grabbed one suitcase.
Derek grabbed another.
The children followed.
For a second, I thought it was over.
Then Chloe stopped.
She looked directly into the camera.
“You’re going to regret this.”
She walked toward the elevator.
I watched until all eight people disappeared.
Then the elevator doors closed.
I finally exhaled.
I thought that was the end.
It wasn’t.
Twenty minutes later, my phone rang again.
This time, it was my landlord.
“Mr. Vance?”
“Yes?”
“This is Martin.”
I sat down.
“Is there a problem?”
“There may be.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Your sister contacted the building management.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She claimed you had given her permission to access the apartment and that your new lock was preventing her from entering.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we couldn’t grant access without your authorization.”
“Thank you.”
“But there is something else.”
“What?”
Martin hesitated.
“She said she was going to report you for violating your lease.”
I stared at the wall.
“For changing my own lock?”
“She claimed the lock was installed without approval.”
“My lease allows replacement locks.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because she sounded very serious.”
I stood up.
“Martin, I appreciate the warning.”
“No problem.”
He paused.
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“You should probably keep records of everything.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Keep records.
I opened my laptop.
I created a folder.
CHLOE — APARTMENT INCIDENTS.
Then I started documenting.
I saved screenshots of every message.
I downloaded the security camera footage.
I saved the texts where Chloe admitted Mom gave her the key.
I saved Mom’s messages saying family didn’t need permission.
I saved the group chat.
I even took photographs of the new lock.
Then I remembered something.
The old lock.
I had kept it in a drawer after replacing it.
I opened the drawer.
There it was.
And beside it was something I had completely forgotten about.
A tiny envelope.
I had found it behind the old lock when the locksmith removed it.
At the time, I assumed it was an old piece of mail.
Now I opened it.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
I unfolded it.
My hands went cold.
It wasn’t mail.
It was a handwritten list.
Apartment.
Spare key.
Tuesday — 4:30.
Thursday — 6:15.
Saturday — 11:00.
Underneath were several names.
Chloe.
Mom.
And one name I didn’t recognize.
I stared at it for several seconds.
Then I realized something even more disturbing.
The dates weren’t random.
They were the days I had been away from the apartment.
The days I had been working late.
The weekends Leo stayed with Sarah.
The times my family somehow knew I wouldn’t be home.
Someone had been keeping track of my schedule.
And suddenly Chloe’s weekend visit didn’t feel like an entitled family favor anymore.
It felt planned.
Very carefully planned.
I called Martin again.
“Martin?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have hallway camera footage from the last few months?”
There was a pause.
“We retain some footage.”
“Can I request it?”
“Why?”
I looked at the handwritten list.
“Because I think someone has been entering my apartment without my permission.”
His voice changed immediately.
“I’ll send you the procedure.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
Then I called Sarah.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing happened to Leo.”
She sighed.
“Okay. You scared me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Has Chloe ever asked you about my custody schedule?”
There was silence.
“Why?”
“Just answer.”
“Yes.”
My heart dropped.
“When?”
“Several times.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five or six.”
“What did she ask?”
Sarah’s voice became cautious.
“She asked when Leo stays with me. She asked when you travel for work. Once she asked whether you usually spend weekends alone.”
I stared at the wall.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think anything of it.”
Neither had I.
Until now.
“Sarah,” I said quietly, “did she ever ask about my apartment?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“What did she ask?”
“She asked if you had cameras.”
I stopped breathing for a moment.
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
I sat down.
“Anything else?”
Sarah thought.
“She also asked whether Leo had his own room.”
My eyes moved toward the hallway.
Leo’s room.
The room Chloe had wanted to use.
The room where his schoolwork was stored.
The room where his childhood drawings covered the wall.
Suddenly, I understood something.
This wasn’t about one weekend.
It had never been about eight guests.
Chloe had been testing my boundaries for months.
Maybe years.
And someone had been helping her.
I looked again at the handwritten list.
Three names.
Chloe.
Mom.
And the unknown name.
I took a photograph and sent it to Sarah.
Do you recognize this handwriting?
Her response came almost immediately.
No.
Then another message appeared.
Wait.
I think I know who it belongs to.
My heart began pounding.
Who?
The typing dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, Sarah sent:
Ethan, don’t call anyone yet.
I think you need to come to my house.
I have something that belongs to you.
Something Chloe left here.
I stared at her message.
“What is it?” I typed.
Her response arrived five seconds later.
A folder.
And your name is written on it.
I looked at the clock.
7:03 p.m.
The pizza dough was still waiting on my kitchen counter.
Leo was waiting for dinner.
But suddenly, the weekend had become something much bigger than a family argument.
Someone had been watching my schedule.
Someone had been entering my home.
Someone had been keeping records.
And now Sarah had a folder with my name on it.
I grabbed my keys.
Then I stopped.
I looked at the smart lock.
For the first time, I was grateful I had changed it.
Because whatever was inside that folder…
I had a feeling my family had been hoping I would never find it.
CONTINUE READ NEXT PART… 👇
