PART 1 — THE LOCK HE SHOULD NEVER HAVE CHANGED
After fourteen hours at work, I returned to find my suitcase, clothes, laptop bag, three pairs of shoes, confidential work files, and my grandparents’ framed photo scattered across the twenty-ninth-floor hallway of Cloudview Towers. My key no longer fit the new silver lock, installed sometime between 8 a.m. and 10:15 p.m. Michael had changed the locks on the condo I legally owned. Rather than pound on the door or shout, I called the police.
“Cloudview Towers, Unit 2902,
