Are they looking for the owner of the house? If yes, is it me, the old owner they're looking for, or are they searching for the new one? The questions lingered in my thoughts even after I turned the engine on and drove in the direction where the sleek Lamborghini had gone. I felt bothered by those questions because if they were searching for me, then it must be important—so important that they went to the house themselves instead of sending someone else to do the job.
But then a reasonable part of my brain told me I didn't know the couple, so they were probably not looking for me at all. With that thought in mind, my worries faded, and I shifted my attention to the steering wheel.
There was a beep from my phone, which was lying on the dashboard. I glanced at it just in time to see a mess
