Chapter 2

My eyes go wide.

That's impossible.

Last time, I stripped the place bare. Not a single appliance left. Not even a USB charger. There was nothing left to draw power.

This time around I haven't gone that far, but all I've got running is a fridge, a washer-dryer combo, and a few LED lights. That's 30 to 40 kWh a month, tops. There's no universe where it hits 237 in a single hour.

Mike packs up his Fluke meter and shakes his head.

"Ms. Rivera, I've been doing this for twenty years. Never seen anything like it. I'd recommend you contact SCE and have them send a field engineer to check your Smart Meter."

He signs the invoice on his iPad and walks out without looking back.

I sink to the floor.

Last time, I called everyone I could think of.

SCE customer service,at least twenty calls. The LA Department of Building and Safety came out twice. I filed reports with LAFD and LAPD. When I had nowhere left to turn, I called the State Attorney General's consumer complaint hotline.

Every single person told me the same thing: "We don't see any irregularity in your account, ma'am."

Nothing. Nobody found anything.

Ding-dong.

The Ring doorbell chimes. A push notification lights up my screen.

Jason stands in the hallway. His tie is loose, his face like a storm cloud.

He must have driven over an hour from Rancho Cucamonga to get here.

The second I open the door, his eyes sweep the freshly renovated interior. Every detail registers as resentment and rage.

"Emily, congrats. You finally won one."

"I've still got twenty-eight years left on my mortgage. Four grand a month just in principal and interest. But Mom and Dad? They drop cash on a condo for you. No loan. No payments. Just here you go."

"Must feel pretty damn good, huh?"

I crack a bitter smile.

I don't feel good. I feel like crying.

Growing up, Mom and Dad always said "We don't play favorites." But Jason got Sylvan Learning Center. I taught myself at the public library. The college fund only had his name on it. Even the laundromat's succession plan was quietly decided at the dinner table,all his.

Me? I walked into the Financial Aid Office alone to figure out my student loans.

The one time they actually give me something better than my brother, and it turns out to be this.

SLAM.

I shove the door shut. The deadbolt clicks twice. Jason kicks the door from the outside, curses his way down the hall.

The elevator dings somewhere at the end of the corridor.

I stare at my phone. The numbers on the SCE app are still climbing. Fast.

Anger. Injustice. Hurt. Confusion. Every emotion hits at once.

I dig through the coat closet by the door and pull out the sledgehammer I borrowed on moving day.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

I swing like I've lost my mind. The quartz countertop. The hardwood floor. The IKEA PAX wardrobe. The Casper mattress and its frame.

Mike says it's my power? Fine. I'll smash everything to pieces. I'll find whatever's pulling electricity if it kills me.

Shrapnel bites into my skin. Sharp, searing pain.

I don't feel it. I just keep swinging.

When there's nothing left to break, I pull out my phone with trembling hands.

The SCE app reads: 2,500 kWh.

"How is this possible?"

The place is destroyed. Everything reduced to rubble. But the number keeps climbing.

I refuse to accept this. I post an emergency ad on Craigslist,$500 cash for someone to tear out the walls.

Two hours later, three day laborers show up. Two Mexican guys and a young Guatemalan, picked up straight from the Home Depot parking lot. They brought their own tools.

Nothing left in the apartment. Electricity still surging.

Maybe the answer is inside the walls.

They work the entire day. Kitchen. Bedroom. Bathroom. Every partition wall demolished.

The unit is gutted. Nothing remains but bare wooden stud frames and four load-bearing walls. Shredded drywall hangs in strips. Wires dangle from gaps in the ceiling like a nest of dead snakes.

I stand in the wreckage, hands shaking, and open my phone.

This time. It has to stop.

The SCE app number is still climbing.

Ice floods my veins from the base of my spine to the top of my skull.

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