Chapter 6
Natalie sighed as she lowered her tote bag to the floor of her home and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes for just a moment. The lock clicked into place beneath her hand, but the familiar sound didn’t settle her the way it usually did.
Fourteen hours on her feet—five client meetings, an endless cascade of emails, supplier calls—and one unexpected coffee with a man who’d been far too easy to think about on the drive home. Rylan’s smile still lingered in her mind, softening the edges of her exhaustion.
Kicking off her heels, she padded barefoot toward the kitchen, the cool floorboards soothing against her sore feet. All she wanted was a glass of wine to toast her survival of the day.
She opened the refrigerator, then froze, staring into the brightly lit interior.
The bottle she’d opened yesterday—half-full—was gone.
Her brow furrowed. She distinctly remembered sliding it aside that morning to grab a yogurt.
“What in the world?” she murmured, scanning the shelves again, as if the bottle might magically appear.
She shut the door and looked around. The dish towel that always hung neatly over the oven handle was missing. She frowned, turning toward the living room—then froze.
The lampshade on the side table was tilted, just slightly. The throw pillows on the sofa were in the wrong order—plaid in front of floral instead of the other way around.
And then her gaze caught on the coffee table.
A vase of fresh flowers sat in the center.
Her stomach turned to ice. She hadn’t bought flowers. She hadn’t put them there.
The air felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Someone had been inside her home. Her sanctuary. Touched her things. Left something behind—like a message she couldn’t yet read.
Her fingers tightened around her phone as she grabbed her bag and stepped quickly to the front yard, the sudden vastness of the night pressing in on her.
The shadows seemed deeper than usual. Every rustle of leaves became footsteps.
Every flicker at the corner of her vision felt like eyes tracking her.
She dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s voice was bored, almost annoyed.
“I think someone broke into my house,” she whispered, scanning the dark edges of her yard.
“Are you safe?”
“I don’t know! I’m outside now.” Her voice trembled despite her effort to control it.
“Stay there. An officer will be dispatched immediately.”
She ended the call with a shaky exhale, the distant wail of sirens cutting into the quiet. Lights flicked on in neighboring windows, curious faces peeking out into the night.
The cruiser pulled into her driveway, headlights sweeping across her lawn. A tall, broad-shouldered officer stepped out, salt-and-pepper hair, eyes that scanned the scene with cautious concern.
“Someone was in my house today,” Natalie said quickly, motioning toward the open front door. “I don’t know how they got in, but—”
“Are they still inside?” His voice was calm, but there was something about the slight tilt of his head that suggested he didn’t believe her.
She blinked, realizing with a sick twist in her stomach that she hadn’t even thought to check. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t hear anyone, but things are different. Moved.”
He lifted a hand to silence her. “Stay here while I clear the house.”
Gun drawn, he moved toward the door in slow, deliberate steps, disappearing inside. Natalie’s pulse pounded in her ears. The night pressed closer. A cold breeze slipped past her, carrying the faint, sweet scent of flowers from inside—flowers she hadn’t bought.
Minutes later, he emerged with his weapon holstered, his expression faintly irritated.
“There’s no one inside,” he said, thumbs hooking into his utility belt. “And nothing seems disturbed.”
Natalie’s jaw tightened. “The flowers on my coffee table weren’t there when I left this morning.”
His brow lifted, the faintest crease appearing between his eyes. “Flowers?” The word was drawn out, as if tasting it for hidden meaning. Then his expression flattened into something halfway between mild curiosity and doubt. “Maybe a friend or boyfriend left them for you.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest like armor. “And I live alone.”
That made him pause. His eyes narrowed just slightly, but the skepticism didn’t fade. “Huh. Well… there’s still no sign of forced entry. No broken locks. No pry marks. Nothing to suggest someone actually got in.”
Natalie felt her pulse spike, heat crawling up the back of her neck. “I know my own house,” she said, her tone sharp but measured.
He gave a faint, almost patronizing smile that only stoked her irritation.
Her voice climbed, the words crisp and cold now. “Someone was in my house. Someone moved my things. Someone left me flowers.” She took a step toward him, eyes flashing. “And I don’t care what the locks look like—someone was here.”
He shrugged, the movement lazy, as if the situation were barely worth his attention. “I’ll write up a report,” he said in that maddeningly even tone, like he was humoring a child. “If you notice anything missing, you can use the case number to file a claim with your insurance company.”
Natalie’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. His tone all but told her he thought she was overreacting—or worse, imagining it. And that faint, patronizing smile… it made her want to scream.
“Thank you,” she said, the word sharp as glass, her voice tight from the effort of keeping it civil. “I appreciate your help.”
The officer handed her a slip of paper, his expression already drifting toward boredom. “Call if anything else comes up,” he said, tipping his hat just enough to feel performative before strolling back to his cruiser.
Natalie stood there, watching the red taillights vanish down the street, heat and cold warring in her chest. Around her, porch lights flicked off as curious neighbors retreated, the night swallowing their interest as easily as it had swallowed the sound of the sirens.
She turned back toward her house, the shadows stretching longer across the lawn. What had always been her sanctuary now felt… wrong. Violated.
The chill in the air slid down her spine, settling into her bones, but it didn’t weaken her. It hardened her.
She wasn’t going to let some faceless intruder scare her out of her home. Tomorrow, she’d have a security system installed—cameras, alarms, every possible safeguard. This was her space, and no one had the right to take it from her.
Her jaw set, her shoulders squared. She stepped inside, locked the door with deliberate finality, and stared into the dim living room. She didn’t feel safe yet. But she would.
And when she found out who had crossed her threshold, they would regret it.