👉 Previous Decision: You chose Option B – Use your hidden knowledge of CAD legacy commands to discreetly signal the intruder through the house’s automated audio system while keeping Davenport unaware.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of motion under the desk. Davenport was still watching me, his gaze heavy, but his attention was split between my console and a flickering internal memo on his own screen. I knew the network’s deep architecture, the old, unmapped telecom commands that predated his “upgrades.”
I typed a sequence, a string of forgotten characters designed for diagnostics in pre-smart-home systems. The command would trigger an ambient alert through any connected audio device within a specific network ID. Mine.
A tiny, almost imperceptible beep sounded from my smart speaker at home.
Miles away, at 1428 Maple Ridge Lane, Leo stirred in his bed. He sat bolt upright, his ears straining. Another beep, faint but clear. It wasn’t the house’s usual chime. It was a digital ghost. He knew I wouldn’t activate that old system unless something was very wrong.
He swung his legs out of bed. A shadow shifted outside his bedroom door. Someone was in the house. Leo scrambled, silent as a mouse, into the utility closet off the main hallway. He pulled the door almost shut, leaving a sliver of space to see.
From his hiding spot, he watched a figure in a dark hoodie move through the hallway, a small flashlight beam sweeping across the floor. The figure passed, moving towards my home office. On the hallway carpet, near the baseboard, something glinted. A phone.
Leo waited until the coast was clear, then darted out. He snatched the phone. It was still unlocked, displaying an active text message thread. He scrolled rapidly, his eyes widening. The messages detailed specific instructions for retrieving “audit files” from my office. And the sender? “H.D.” Harlan Davenport.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 6 to continue the story.
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