Chapter 1

1: 1

At the housewarming for our wedding home, everyone got rowdy and started a truth-or-dare party game.

The childhood friend who drew the King card laughed and gave her order:

"Number Five, open the smart lock and delete the least important fingerprint in it."

Grace Delgado flipped over her number card. It was Five.

She looked down and tapped a few times, and a notification popped up on my phone:

【Your door access has been revoked.】

While the room roared with laughter, she slipped an arm around my waist as though it were nothing.

"Don't be upset. They're just messing around."

"After the party's over, I'll register it again for you."

That made it nine times she'd deleted my fingerprint.

Every time she re-entered it, she'd kiss my cheek and say,

"You can come by whenever you want. There'll always be a place for you here."

But the next time I stood outside that door, what met me was always the same line:

【This fingerprint has no access.】

I was about to ask her how long this newly registered print would last, when the childhood friend burst out laughing.

"Grace, you still haven't given him permanent access?"

"When Herbert Winfield moved in last month, didn't you set him straight in as the master of the house?"

The whole room went dead quiet.

I looked at the lock's admin panel.

There, in the permanent resident field, was another man's name.

Grace was silent for a moment, and then her tone turned almost impatient.

"Herbert just got back to the country. He's got nowhere to go for now."

"You're not here most of the time anyway. What difference does permanent access make?"

I said nothing. I only took the ring off my left hand and set it in her palm.

Then I turned and called the agent.

"That wedding home. List it for sale tonight."

……

Grace stared at the diamond ring in her palm, frozen for a couple of seconds, her brow knotting.

The friends who'd been drinking in the living room stopped, every pair of eyes landing on me.

Grace stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Lambert Henson, it's just a door lock. Do you have to pull off the ring in front of all these people and blow it up like this?"

I looked at her and didn't answer.

Herbert, sitting on the couch, set down his glass.

"Lambert, don't get the wrong idea. I'm only staying temporarily. Grace registered my print so I wouldn't have trouble coming and going."

"If it bothers you, I'll move out tomorrow. I'll stay at a hotel."

He started to get up as he said it.

Grace instantly let go of my hand, turned, and went to press him back down by the shoulder.

"Why would you stay at a hotel by yourself? This is your home."

Then she turned her head, fixed her eyes on me, and hardened her voice.

"Herbert's only staying a few days. You won't be satisfied until you force him out in front of everyone?"

"I registered the print. If you've got a problem, take it up with me. Don't make things hard for him."

The money for this place, Grace and I had each paid half.

And now I didn't even have the right to register a fingerprint for the front door.

I gave her one look, turned, and walked to the master bedroom.

I pulled open the drawer, took out the purchase contract, and slid it into the briefcase I carry.

Grace heard the noise and came over.

Seeing me getting ready to leave, her expression shifted.

She took two steps toward me and reached out to grab my arm.

Then Herbert's voice came from the living room.

"Grace… my stomach hurts so bad. It's probably the chilled champagne I drank. Cramps."

Grace stopped and spun around, hurrying toward the living room.

I had just stepped out of the bedroom, and I happened to be blocking the hallway.

Without a second thought, Grace shoved me aside.

The force sent me stumbling back two steps, and my lower back slammed hard into the corner of the solid wood cabinet in the hallway.

The pain spread through me at once.

I braced against the cabinet and sucked in a breath.

Grace was already at the couch, gripping Herbert's arm.

She whipped her head around and yelled at me,

"What are you still standing there for? Go pour him a glass of warm water!"

The stabbing pain in my back dragged at my stomach until it started cramping too, wave after wave.

I clutched my stomach, hurting too much to breathe.

Seeing no reaction from me, Grace just bent down, hauled Herbert up, and strode for the door.

"Forget it, I can't count on you! I'll take him to the hospital."

She half-carried him out the door.

The security door slammed shut with a bang.

Five seconds later, the smart lock gave its little beep as it locked.

The friends could tell something was wrong and left one after another.

The living room was empty.

On the entryway floor lay the leather shoes Herbert had kicked off.

His jacket was tossed on the couch, and his half-finished champagne still sat on the coffee table.

Holding back the pain, I took out my phone and called the real-estate agent I know.

"John Finch, this place downtown, I need you to list it for sale right away."

"Yes, urgent. I'll take two hundred grand under market. I just want a buyer as fast as possible."

The call ended, and the screen went dark.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and tightened my grip on the bag.

I pushed open the front door and walked out without looking back.