CHAPTER FIVE
1362 Words
Chapter Five
The Back-Room Break-In
Lila slipped past the counter with the grace of a guilty cat. The rude courier employee didn’t look up—he was too busy peeling lettuce from his sandwich like it had personally offended him.
The thin metal door to the back room was half open, held in place by an overflowing cart of bubble mailers. She nudged it gently and stepped inside.
The back room was… worse.
Stacks of packages leaned like exhausted soldiers. A mountain of padded envelopes sat on a wheeled cart labeled “TO SORT (eventually).” A printer hummed in the corner, spitting labels onto the floor like it had lost the will to live. A radio played static and an occasional shout from a sports commentator.
The air smelled faintly of cardboard, dust, and hopelessness.
“Okay,” Lila whispered. “Find the photo log. Don’t get caught. Don’t die under a package avalanche.”
She tiptoed past a leaning tower of boxes that trembled ominously but didn’t fall. Her eyes scanned the shelves.
Where would a lazy courier employee leave printed photos?
Her gaze traveled across the clutter until she saw it—
A corkboard.
A messy, chaotic corkboard overflowing with pinned delivery photos. Some were crooked. Some were falling off. A few were hanging on by a single bent thumbtack.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Thank you, universe.”
She hurried forward, heart pounding.
There were dozens—no, hundreds—of photos. Doorsteps. Mailboxes. Apartment hallways. Dogs. Cats. One blurry human hand caught mid-wave. Another photo that might’ve been a foot.
But she didn’t need all of them.
She needed two.
She scanned the labels underneath:
REED, I.
ROSSI, M.
Her heart skipped.
She found Reed first.
The photo was crooked and printed slightly too dark. But there it was—a white envelope with her logo being slipped through the slot of a pretty gray townhouse. A brass doorknob. A pale-blue welcome mat with the word HOME fading in the corner.
“That’s Isabelle’s,” Lila whispered, relieved. At least part of the disaster went to the right place.
Then she frowned.
A second photo under the same name.
The envelope.
Her envelope.
Being handed to—
A man.
Not Isabelle.
Not any member of Isabelle’s family she recognized from the consultation.
He looked older. Salt-and-pepper hair. Wearing a robe and slippers. Holding a mug that said WORLD’S BEST UNCLE.
Lila squinted at the time stamp.
The second delivery occurred ten minutes after the first.
“What…?” she breathed. “Two invitations? Why two?”
That wasn’t right.
That wasn’t her mistake.
She hadn’t printed duplicates.
She took out her notebook and scribbled:
→ Isabelle Reed:
– Correct delivery
– SECOND unexpected delivery
– Unknown man
– Why??
She moved to the next photo set, pulse quickening.
ROSSI, M.
She found the name pinned beneath a cluster of disorganized snapshots.
The first photo was easy to spot. A modern apartment building entrance. Familiar bricks. She recognized the dark green door she had seen on Maya’s i********: story. The envelope lay on the mat, the gold foil glinting.
Delivered perfectly.
Her lungs loosened with relief.
But then—
The second photo.
Another envelope.
Her logo.
Her handwriting.
But this one wasn’t going to Maya Rossi at all.
The photo showed a totally different house: a cream-colored suburban home with a giant flamingo statue on the lawn. A kid’s bike tossed sideways in the driveway. And a mailbox painted bright purple with the number 86.
“Maya doesn’t live there,” Lila whispered.
Not unless she moved overnight and adopted flamingo décor.
Her stomach twisted.
So the courier didn’t just deliver early—
They delivered extra.
Extra invitations.
On routes that didn’t belong to her clients.
“Great,” she muttered. “Mystery packages. Because my week wasn’t already wildly unmanageable.”
She snapped photos of the pinned pictures with her phone. For good measure, she pulled the physical copies off the corkboard and tucked them carefully into her planner.
This wasn’t just about mixed-up invitations anymore.
This meant something larger was wrong.
Someone printed duplicates.
Someone labeled packages incorrectly.
Someone redirected invitations.
But who?
And… why?
Before she could think deeper, she heard footsteps approaching.
Lila froze.
Voices.
Two of them.
She didn’t have time to hide behind a shelf or bury herself under bubble wrap. Panicking, she dove behind a stack of boxes taller than her and crouched low.
The warehouse door creaked open.
A young guy in a bright red beanie entered first. He looked like he’d been forced awake by a fire alarm. He held a clipboard and yawned loudly.
Behind him came the rude courier employee, sandwich in hand.
“You’re late again,” the rude man grumbled.
“It’s Saturday,” Red Beanie said.
“We work Saturdays.”
“No one told me that.”
“I told you that.”
Red Beanie shrugged. “I forget things. My brain’s full.”
“Full of what?”
“I dunno. Clouds.”
Lila clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing—or screaming.
“Anyway,” the older man continued, “we need to process the Bloom shipments today.”
Lila stiffened.
Bloom.
Seraphina Bloom.
Red Beanie groaned. “Aw, her again? Didn’t we do, like, eighteen deliveries for her this week?”
“Twenty-four. She’s expanding her brand. Again.”
Lila’s breath caught in her throat.
Seraphina Bloom used this courier service?
A courier service that printed duplicates, mislabeled packages, and made mistakes like confetti?
Seraphina—the queen of perfection?
Impossible.
Unless—
She knew.
Unless she already anticipated the chaos.
Unless she already planned for it.
Red Beanie leaned against a stack of boxes, accidentally jostling the one covering Lila. She held her breath as it wobbled dangerously.
“Man,” he said, stretching, “you think she’s still mad about last time?”
The rude man groaned. “Everyone was mad about last time.”
“Hey, I delivered those boxes,” Red Beanie insisted. “On time, too.”
“You delivered half of them to the wrong zip code.”
Red Beanie shrugged. “Close enough.”
The older man rubbed his temples. “Seraphina Bloom is paying extra to ensure priority. She doesn’t want mistakes.”
Lila’s blood ran cold.
Of course she didn’t.
Which meant—
If mistakes happened…
If disastrous mix-ups occurred…
If a small business got blamed…
Seraphina Bloom benefitted.
It hit Lila like a falling box.
Had Seraphina done this on purpose?
Had she sabotaged the courier?
Interfered with shipments?
Or used her influence to force the office to prioritize her work—while Lila’s got tossed aside like expired coupons?
Her heart hammered.
This wasn’t random.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Red Beanie checked his clipboard. “What about those extra envelopes from the other girl—the new planner? What’s her name again? Lila… Something?”
Lila’s eyes widened.
The rude man grunted. “Hart.”
“Yeah! Did we ever return the extras to her?”
“No,” the older man said. “Boss said to toss them in the overflow bin if she didn’t come fast enough.”
Overflow bin.
Overflow bin.
Overflow bin.
A place where leftover, duplicate, mislabeled mail went to die.
Lila’s pulse skyrocketed.
The rude man added, “Doesn’t matter now. They’re already delivered. Probably.”
Her heart lurched.
Extra invitations.
Delivered.
To strangers.
Strangers who now had private wedding information. Addresses. Dates. Names.
Oh no.
This just got worse.
Much worse.
Before she could move, something brushed her shoulder—
A cardboard box sliding.
Her eyes widened.
She reached to catch it.
Too late.
The tower shook—
Tilted—
And collapsed with the loudest crash she’d ever heard.
Boxes hit the floor. Packing peanuts exploded like white fireworks.
The two men spun around, eyes wide.
“What was that?!”
Lila scrambled to her feet, dodging falling envelopes, brushing Styrofoam from her hair.
There was no point hiding now.
She straightened, lifted her chin, and declared:
“I can explain.”
They both screamed.
- Writer
