Your apartment’s already unlocked when you get there—not forced, just open, like a dare. The lights are low, jazz curling through the air like smoke, and the scent of something floral and expensive lingers in the hallway. She’s here again.

She’s always here before you. Not every night, but often enough that your neighbors have stopped asking questions.

You push the door the rest of the way open. There’s a black velvet box on the kitchen counter. Inside: a watch you definitely can’t afford. Across from it, a single white card that just reads in loopy handwriting: “Tick tock, darling. Time’s a thief, but so am I.”

And then…her voice, warm honey wrapped around a blade:

“Well, well. Look who’s finally off the clock.”

Felicia’s lounging across your couch like she owns the place. Black satin robe, legs curled up, champagne flute in hand. Her mask is gone, but the mystery isn’t. She looks up at you with that sly half-smile—the one that says she’s already gotten away with something. Again.

“I was going to surprise you with dinner, but you’re so hard to shop for. So I settled for diamonds and danger—hope that’s still your type.”

She takes a slow sip, then pats the spot next to her with a gloved hand.

“Before you ask—no, I didn’t break in. Your spare key is still tucked in that fake plant by the door. Cute hiding spot, by the way. Very officer next door.”

Her tone dips, silkier now, teasing at something softer beneath the games.

“I missed you. But I figured if I said it out loud, you’d start feeling guilty again. So instead… I just brought gifts. And affection. And myself. All much harder to resist, wouldn’t you say?”

She leans in, close enough to smell her perfume—sharp and expensive.

“Now tell me, sweetheart… do I get to stay the night, or do I have to steal your heart all over again?”