Chapter 1 - The Porch Concurrently
The autumn air on the porch of the suburban house was crisp enough to bite, carrying the faint, metallic scent of approaching rain. Elena Vance stood her ground, her dark wavy hair catching the wind as she clutched the wooden clipboard against her chest like a shield. Across from her, Julian Vance—the man in the gray suit she had known for half a lifetime—kept his expression carved from stone. Beside them, an American flag hung limply against the white wooden siding, its stripes dulled by years of exposure.
"Just hand over the ticket," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave, devoid of any warmth or shared history.
Elena tightened her fingers around the wooden edges of the clipboard, the metal clip biting into her palm. Her dark trench coat billowed slightly as another gust swept across the manicured lawn.
"You know I can't do that, Julian," Elena replied, her tone dangerously low. "That ticket isn't just paper. It's the only leverage left keeping this entire town from tearing itself apart."
"Leverage?" Julian stepped closer, his jaw tightening as he adjusted the black briefcase in his left hand. "You're playing a game you lost twenty years ago. The agency doesn't negotiate with ghosts, Elena."
"I am not a ghost," she fired back, her eyes narrowing as she met his cold gaze. "And I'm certainly not going to let you sweep another tragedy under the rug just to secure your next promotion."
"Watch your tone," Julian warned, stepping fully onto the wooden floorboards, the heels of his shoes clicking sharply. "You're standing on borrowed time. Look behind me."
Elena glanced past his shoulder. A matte-black SUV had just crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway. Two figures in matching black suits stepped out of the vehicle, their movements synchronized and terrifyingly deliberate, unblinking as they scanned the perimeter.
"They aren't here to talk, Elena," Julian whispered, leaning in. "They're here to collect. And they won't care about your clipboard."
Elena didn't blink. She lowered her gaze to the clipboard, tracing the top paper with her thumb, revealing a name written in faded ink that made Julian’s breath catch.
"Miss Claire?" Elena whispered, her voice suddenly trembling.
May you like
Julian froze, staring at the paper, his face instantly draining of color.
---
