showed a familiar car pulling into the driveway of my vacation home. A pit formed in my stomach as I watched the live feed. It was my parents. They were trying the door handle, clearly expecting to let themselves right in.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. I had half a mind to call the police, but no, I needed to handle this myself. I took a deep breath and called Mark. “They’re at the cottage,” I said tersely.
“Seriously? After everything?” he replied.
