“You think just because you’ve got money and a savior complex, you can swoop in and fix things that don’t concern you at all?”
My voice stayed calm, but my heart had begun to pound.
I had no idea why this man was really here. I had no idea what he was trying to get out of this interaction, but what I did know was that my girls were in the house, and I didn’t want this man to set his eyes on them.
“Listen, your son needed insulin. He could have died.
That’s what concerned me and that’s why I did what I did.”
His lip curled, and the alcohol on his breath hit me like a slap.
“Are you seeing her? Are you seeing Tessa?”
“No,” I said. “And this conversation is over.
Get off my property. Now.”
“I’m not leaving until you apologize, Charlie,” he said, taking one step closer. “Apologize for being a hero.”
I shut the door, missing his fingers by an inch.
Then I locked it and called the police.
By the time they arrived, the man — Phil, I would learn later — was gone. I showed them my doorbell footage. I filed a report, and the officer said to keep the doors locked and promised to keep patrol cars nearby.
“I have kids,” I said.
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