Chapter 3 - The First Glitch
Monday morning arrived with a clear, harsh autumn sky over Oak Park.
At 7:30 AM, Brenda Miller stepped out of her bedroom wearing her silk bathrobe, expecting the usual sounds of the apartment: the low hum of the television playing morning news, the scent of fresh coffee, and the quiet rustle of Paige packing Gemma’s diaper bag.
Instead, the apartment was dead silent.
The kitchen was immaculate. The bowl from which Brenda had dumped Gemma’s chicken soup into the sink the previous afternoon sat dry on the drainboard. The dining table was completely bare.
Douglas Miller, my father, was sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, wearing his reading glasses, staring at his phone with a puzzled frown.
"Did Paige leave her spare car key on the counter?" Brenda asked, walking toward the coffee maker. She opened the top cabinet to grab her favorite ceramic mug, only to stop.
The bag of artisanal coffee beans—the expensive roast I had purchased three days earlier—was missing. In its place was a half-empty box of cheap instant coffee filters.
"Brenda," Douglas said, his voice hesitant. "My parking garage remote didn't open the gate this morning when I tried to take the trash down."
Brenda turned around, her brows drawn together in irritation. "What are you talking about? Press the reset button on the visor."
"I did," Douglas replied. "The red light flashes, but the gate didn't move. The maintenance worker, Mike, was in the lobby. He told me the system rejected our unit code."
"That idiot Mike doesn't know how to run the building," Brenda snapped, pouring water into the machine. "I'll call Harrison at the management office after breakfast. Paige probably didn't sweep the hallway before she dragged that stroller out yesterday. She has no sense of responsibility."
At 8:15 AM, twelve miles away in a bright, modern co-working office space in downtown Chicago, I was sitting at a dedicated desk with a hot cup of black tea and my laptop open. Gemma was happily playing in the facility's certified on-site childcare room down the hall, under the supervision of two licensed teachers.
My phone rang.
The caller ID displayed Chloe Miller.
I let it ring three times before sliding the green icon to accept the call. I didn't say hello. I simply held the phone to my ear.
"Paige?" Chloe’s voice came through the speaker, tight and high-pitched. "Hey. Did something happen with your bank app?"
"Good morning, Chloe," I said calmly, leaning back in my ergonomic chair.
"Look, I just got an alert from my mortgage lender," Chloe said quickly, her words tumbling over each other. "They said my monthly supplemental payment was returned for non-sufficient funds or cancellation. It was due today at eight. I have an automatic late fee of seventy-five dollars if it isn't cleared by noon!"
"It wasn't returned for non-sufficient funds," I replied, my voice cool and flat. "I canceled the recurring wire transfer last night."
There was a long silence on the line. I could hear the faint sound of traffic behind her.
"What do you mean, you canceled it?" Chloe demanded, her tone instantly shifting from confusion to hostility. "That payment is part of my housing budget! You know I can't cover the full mortgage note on my associate salary alone!"
"Your housing budget is your responsibility, Chloe," I said. "You are twenty-six years old. You work full-time at an advertising firm."
"Paige! We had an agreement!"
"No," I corrected her firmly. "We had an arrangement where I voluntarily covered four hundred and fifty dollars of your private debt every month out of kindness. Yesterday, in front of our parents, you stood in the kitchen and told me that I was acting like I owned a place I had no right to. You agreed with Mom that Gemma and I were leeching off the family."
"That was just... Mom was stressed!" Chloe shouted into the receiver. "You know how she gets! You can't just cut off my mortgage support over a stupid argument about chicken soup!"
"I can," I said softly. "And I did. If you need seventy-five dollars to avoid a late fee today, I suggest you ask Mom for it. After all, she made it very clear yesterday that food and housing cost money."
"Paige, you bitch—"
I hung up the phone.
I immediately went to my settings, tapped on Chloe’s profile, and selected Block Contact.
Ten seconds later, my phone vibrated again. This time it was an email notification from the Oak Park Property Management Portal.
May you like
System Alert: Unit 4B owner account modified. Access credentials for Douglas Miller (Resident) and Brenda Miller (Resident) downgraded to 'Occupant - Pending Review' per owner instructions.
I took a slow sip of my tea, opened my editing software, and went back to work.
