Chapter 2: The Diplomatic Shield
Kyle paused, his hand hovering inches from the handle of the third bedroom door. His eyes flickered with a brief, insolent challenge. “It’s just a room, Leah. Don’t be dramatic.”
“It’s not just a room,” I said, my voice dropping into the professional register I reserved for foreign attachés and high-ranking security officials. “And if you open that door, you’ll be in violation of a Federal lease agreement that carries penalties you cannot possibly afford.”
My father chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound. “There she goes. Playing the big-shot government employee. Leah, honey, we are your blood. We aren’t ‘violating’ anything. We’re moving in.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit a pre-programmed speed dial. Before the phone rang, I looked at my mother. “Mom, you need to call the movers. Tell them to turn the truck around.”
“The movers are already at the loading dock, dear,” she said, looking back at her phone. “I told them to come up at 8:00 AM tomorrow.”
I didn't answer her. I put the phone to my ear. “Security? This is Leah Vance. I need a Level 3 intervention at my unit immediately. I have unauthorized individuals attempting to occupy government-leased property. Yes, they are claiming right of residence. I’m requesting an immediate escort off the premises.”
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The color drained from my father’s face. “Leah, hang up that phone right now!”
“It’s a diplomatic housing unit, Dad,” I said calmly, watching the realization dawn on them. “It’s not a rental property. It’s a sovereign space under the jurisdiction of the Department of State. Unauthorized guests aren’t just ‘guests.’ They are security breaches.”
