I canceled my trip to keep an eye on my inherited apartment and discovered my family moving in with a locksmith: “She’ll only cry for a few days,” they said… but they didn’t know the police were already on their way.

I smiled through the meal and casually mentioned that my upcoming flight to London was scheduled for Friday and would last for three weeks.

I noticed my mother looked down at her plate far too quickly to be natural, while my father offered a strained, supportive smile.

Chloe feigned a burst of excitement for my career, but I could see her eyes sparkling as if she were already mentally spending my inheritance.

I smiled back at all of them, though the warmth in my expression was entirely fake and my heart felt like a piece of cold stone.

However, I never actually booked that flight to London, and I certainly had no intention of leaving my home unprotected.

Instead, I booked a room at a boutique hotel located only ten minutes away from my apartment building to serve as my base of operations.

I spent the next two days installing high-definition hidden cameras throughout my home and saving the recording of the kitchen conversation.

I also took the liberty of visiting the local precinct to file a preliminary police report regarding the potential theft of my property.

On Tuesday morning, while I was sitting in the hotel lobby, my cell phone began to vibrate incessantly in my hand.