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The Stolen Address Novel Cover

The Stolen Address

The Stolen Address is a chilling mystery story about a resident targeted by a series of inexplicable food deliveries. After five identical errors in a single month, the protagonist posts a warning for the prankster, only for another driver to arrive claiming this location is his regular stop. Following a tense confrontation, a violent pounding erupts at the door. When the resident flings it open to retaliate, they are met with a horrifying sight that defies explanation.
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Chapter 2

I immediately ordered a smart video door lock online and had it installed that very evening. Whenever someone passed by my apartment, the system would automatically record video footage.

The next afternoon, a notification popped up on my phone. Someone had lingered outside my door for a few seconds.

I quickly opened the app to check.`

It was a delivery driver. He left a package at my door and then headed for the elevator.

Three minutes later, another notification appeared. This time, someone had stayed outside my door for more than ten seconds.

It was Derek Sutton, the neighbor from upstairs.

I recognized him because we'd had an unpleasant misunderstanding two months earlier.

A strong gust had blown his wife's lingerie onto my balcony that day. Not wanting to touch something so personal, I'd asked her to come retrieve it herself.

To my surprise, Derek had shown up as well. The moment he saw me, he started accusing me of having an inappropriate relationship with his wife. Fortunately, she dragged him away before the situation turned into a full-blown argument.

I grabbed my phone and rushed upstairs, then pounded on his door. I knocked for quite a while, but there was no response from inside.

Finally, I raised my voice toward the door.

"If you don't come out right now, I'll expose everything you've been doing."

The next second, the door flew open. Derek stood there with an impatient look on his face.

"What is it?"

I got straight to the point. "Why are you using my address when you order food?"

He immediately played dumb. "What are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean."

"I said, why are you using my address when you order food?"

"Do you have any proof? If not, get lost." He rolled his eyes and started closing the door.

I blocked it with one hand. "Still not admitting it? Then take a look at this. Isn't that you?"

The video on my phone clearly showed him sneaking over to collect the delivery.

Seeing that, he immediately changed his story. "I'm protecting my privacy. The internet is so advanced these days. I'm just looking out for my own safety. That's not illegal, is it?"

His response was so ridiculous I almost laughed. "So protecting your privacy means making me take the blame for everything? How can you be this shameless?"

He rolled his eyes. "What's that got to do with me? If you've got a problem, call the police."

With that, he slammed the door shut.

A surge of anger rose in my chest.

So he wanted to play dirty? Then I'd make sure he didn't get a single delivery ever again.

The next day, around lunchtime, my phone alerted me that someone was outside my door again.

The delivery driver set down the order, took a photo, and left. I immediately opened the door and brought the food inside.

It was a deluxe surf-and-turf feast worth $199.

Less than two minutes after I carried it in, my phone buzzed again. I hurried over and waited by the door.

Derek didn't dare call. Instead, he sent a voice message to the driver through the delivery app.

"What's going on? Where's my food? Are you messing with me? Did you take it after you snapped the photo? I'm warning you, I spent almost two hundred bucks on that meal. Bring it back right now!"

He glanced toward my apartment a couple of times before stomping upstairs in frustration.

A few minutes later, the same delivery driver returned.

The two of them stood outside my door.

"I was in a hurry to make my next delivery. I left it here, took the photo, and left. Why would I take your food?" the driver said, looking aggrieved.

Derek wasn't interested in listening. He lit a cigarette. "My deliveries have never gone missing before. So why did it disappear when you were the one delivering it today?

"I don't care. You're paying for it. You don't want a complaint filed against you, do you? Tell you what. Give me $300 and we'll call it even."

"Why should I?!"

The argument quickly escalated.

I opened the door, still holding the takeout container in my hand.

"Are you looking for this?"

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