Chapter 10 - Locking the Doors
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We pulled into the driveway of our sprawling, custom-built home. The house Daniel and I had designed together, the house paid for by decades of my unpaid overtime and stress. Looking at the dark windows now, it didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like a crime scene.
“Go upstairs and pack a bag, Ellie,” I said the moment we walked through the front door. “Just enough clothes for a few days. We’re going to a hotel tonight.”
“Are we leaving the house to him?” Ellie asked, frowning defensively.
“Absolutely not,” I said, marching straight toward the hall closet. “But I’m not spending the night under the same roof as that man, and I don't want you here when he inevitably comes banging on the door.”
I grabbed two large trash bags from the kitchen pantry and walked directly into the master bedroom. I didn't bother folding anything. I opened Daniel’s closet and began ruthlessly sweeping his expensive Italian suits, his golf shirts, and his custom-made shoes into the plastic bags. I threw his colognes, his watches, and his stupid, pretentious electric tie-rack directly into the trash.
In less than twenty minutes, I had packed away his entire existence. I dragged the four heavy black bags through the house, opened the front door, and hurled them onto the wet concrete of the front porch.
Next, I walked over to the smart-home control panel mounted on the wall. I had installed the system myself three years ago while Daniel was "too busy" on a job site. It took me exactly ninety seconds to completely wipe his biometric access, delete his passcode, and lock his phone out of the security network.
I engaged the heavy deadbolts, activated the perimeter alarms, and walked out through the garage door, making sure it locked securely behind us.
Ellie was already waiting in my car, her small overnight bag in her lap.
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“Is he locked out?” she asked as I got into the driver’s seat.
“Completely,” I said, starting the engine. “Let’s go get some room service and watch terrible movies.”
