Chapter 1

My neighbor really loved my stuff.

Even with his chronic gout, he couldn't stop stealing my food deliveries.

He even slandered me in the building's Snapchat group:

"Only streetwalkers order takeout every single day!"

I smirked, opened up my browser, and started researching a custom diet just for him.

"Foods that trigger immediate gout flare-ups."

"What causes uric acid levels to skyrocket."

Since he wanted to eat my food so badly, I was going to let him feast until he dropped!

On the last workday before the long Memorial Day weekend, I ordered spicy cajun crawfish on my way home.

The DoorDash driver beat me to my apartment, so I told him to just leave it at my door.

A minute later, I stepped out of the elevator, but my porch was completely bare.

Looking around, I noticed a trail of spicy sauce dripping on the floor, leading straight to Mrs. Miller's door across the hall.

I walked over and knocked, determined to get an answer.

A greasy, pimple-faced guy opened the door.

Judging by his looks, this had to be Mrs. Miller's grandson, Kevin, who had just moved in.

I asked politely, "Excuse me, did you happen to see my delivery?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "I’ve been inside all day. Where the hell would I have seen your food?"

If it weren't for the sauce on the floor and the grease smeared across his mouth, I might have actually believed him.

Before I could say another word, he slammed the door right in my face.

I shook my head with a bitter smile. Hunger was making me reckless.

If you're going to catch a thief, you need concrete evidence.

I had lost deliveries several times already.

This porch pirate wasn't picky at all. From seven-dollar boba teas to twenty-dollar pastries, all the way to fifty-dollar seafood boils, he took everything.

I hadn't wanted to point fingers without proof before, but today was just too blatant.

When I was getting into the elevator downstairs, the driver had just arrived.

Between him dropping it off and me stepping off the elevator, barely a minute had passed.

Even a trained raccoon couldn't move that fast.

Looking back, my deliveries only started disappearing after Kevin moved in.

A few days after he arrived, he went totally unhinged in our building's Snapchat group:

"Women nowadays don't know how to run a home. Pure gold-digging trash!

"Decent women cook their own meals. Only streetwalkers order takeout!"

I thought he was just nuts at the time and ignored him.

I didn't expect him to escalate, even having the nerve to tag me directly.

Of course, I wasn't going to take that lying down!

I clapped back immediately:

"I know you have zero filter, but try not to let complete garbage spill out of your mouth!

"If you love sticking your nose in other people's business so much, why don't you go taste-test the city sewer?"

Ever since then, every time Kevin saw me, he looked like he wanted to murder me with his eyes.

Starving and exhausted, I whined to my best friend, Chloe, over the phone.

She sighed in exasperation. "Are you stupid? Didn't you just install a hidden camera by your door? Check the footage!"

I smacked my forehead. Hunger really had made me delirious; I totally forgot about the security cam I had set up precisely because of the thefts.

I quickly pulled up the app on my phone.

A woman’s intuition is never wrong. The thief was Kevin.