Chapter 2

The next afternoon, I was in my studio, mixing colors for a centerpiece I was prepping for the gallery.

The doorbell rang. Again and again. Frantic, like it was trying to wake the dead.

I put down my brush, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Mr. Peterson, with two uniformed security guards behind him.

This didn't look good.

I opened the door. Peterson all but shoved his way inside. His eyes raked over my apartment, making my skin crawl.

"Ms. Ricci," he cleared his throat, pulling a document from his briefcase. "On behalf of the HOA, I am officially informing you that, per the newest community regulations, no single owner has the right to monopolize the rooftop common area."

"Common area?" I took the paper and glanced at it. It was all legalese and bullshit clauses. "My purchase contract explicitly lists that as a privately deeded area."

"The HOA bylaws can override your personal contract," Peterson sneered. "The rooftop garden has now been re-designated as a community common area. For the good of the community, we require you to hand over the keys immediately."

I just stared at him.

"On what grounds did you 're-designate' my private property?"

"On the grounds of an emergency HOA board meeting called last night." He waved the document proudly. "Vice-chairwoman Brenda and our consultant, Councilman Mark, pushed it through. It's all signed off. Tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Mark will be hosting a community mixer in the garden."

I finally got it.

This was a planned mugging. Brenda was flashing her husband's title. She was in bed with this slimy manager, abusing the HOA to forge a resolution and steal my property.

"I'm not handing over any keys," I said calmly. "That 'resolution' has no legal standing. If you have a problem, have your lawyer contact mine."

Peterson's face changed.

"Ms. Ricci, I suggest you cooperate." His voice was low and threatening now. "The HOA's decision is the will of the community. And Councilman Mark has connections all over Chicago—from City Hall right down to the gutter. That's not something a woman on her own can fight."

The two guards behind him took a step forward. A clear threat.

"And frankly, a young woman like you, living alone in an apartment this large... it makes the neighbors talk," Peterson continued. "To avoid any unnecessary rumors, I suggest you keep a lower profile."

Was he implying my money was dirty?

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing specific," he said with a shrug. "Just that young people should know how to fit in, not fight with their neighbors."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to make him shut up permanently. I was running a legitimate business. I couldn't get my hands dirty over this garbage.

"In any case, you will hand over the keys today," Peterson said, dropping the friendly act entirely. "If you refuse to cooperate, we will have to take action."

"Action?"

"For instance, we could change the locks on the garden, citing a security risk," he smiled, an ugly, triumphant thing. "All for community safety, of course. Perfectly legal."

One of the guards took out his radio. The other tapped a tool pouch at his belt.

The message was clear.

I gave the three of them a long, hard look.

Peterson was still gloating. "Ms. Ricci, I know you feel wronged, but people with power get priority. That's just life. Councilman Mark does so much for our community. Borrowing your garden is a small price to pay, don't you think?"

"If you continue to be uncooperative..." Peterson checked his watch. "We are authorized to change the locks to the rooftop garden."

The two guards behind him took another step forward, their presence filling my doorway.

I watched the three men threatening me in my own home, and a cold smile touched my lips.

"Fine," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerously low calm. I looked him dead in the eye. "Go ahead. Touch that lock. But you'd better be damn sure you can handle what happens next."

I shut the door in their faces.