"Hä? Isabella Hartley?"

I froze at the sound of my name through the door, unfamiliar, cutting through the quiet apartment like a warning. My heart kicked hard once, twice.

Quick thinking took over: I darted to the kitchen, grabbed the biggest spoon from the drawer; heavy stainless steel, the kind that felt solid in my hand and crept back to the door. I held it low like a makeshift weapon, took a breath, and cracked the door open just enough to see.

A delivery man.

Uniform. Clipboard. Small cardboard box under his arm.

Well, that was awkward. Not knowing what to do, I flashed him a toothy grin.

"Isabella Hartley?"...