I opened the network settings on my phone.

The home network name, *Sycamore_Secure*, was active.

I tried to connect, but a prompt appeared asking for a security key I did not recognize.

He had changed everything.

The entire house was a digital fortress, and he had locked me out of the controls.

I stood in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by the smart appliances.

The digital display on the refrigerator showed the weather forecast.

Heavy rain.

A flash of lightning illuminated the backyard, casting the skeletal shadows of the oak trees against the glass doors.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

The screen lit up with a text message from an unknown number.

“Clara? This is Detective Marcus. We need to talk about your latest blog post.”

I began to type a reply.

*Please help me. I think—*

Before I could press send, the screen went black.

Then, the incoming call screen appeared.

Julian’s contact photo—a picture of him smiling on a beach—filled the display.

The phone buzzed, vibrating against my fingers.

At that moment, the electronic chime of the front door sounded.