Backdoor to Riches

Harper glanced toward the pharmacy's locked back door from the corner of her eye while the worker processed her massive medical order. The counter was piled high with antibiotics, fever reducers, gauze, and odd herbal mixtures. "Sure, go ahead and sign me up. By the way, does your back door lead directly into Emerald Estate?" she asked in an offhand, conversational tone.

"Yeah. You can go straight into the neighborhood from the back door. All the buildings here are part of the neighborhood. Your membership card is ready, ma'am. Please pay over here," the young worker answered without missing a beat, tapping the final total on his screen.

Harper tapped her card against the reader without hesitation. She took the heavy plastic bags and paused near the exit, adjusting her grip. "What time do you usually close? Is anyone on duty after hours? I get terrible stomach problems whenever the seasons change. If I get sick in the middle of the night, I won't have anywhere to buy medicine."

"You can keep some medicine at home. We close at eight every night. Once we lock up, nobody stays here," the clerk said with a helpful retail smile.

"I see. Then give me two more boxes of diarrhea medicine." Harper curled her lips into a cold, calculating smile.

She had her ideal entry point. Emerald Estate stood as a sprawling fortress for the wealthy. The perimeter was fortified, lined with wrought iron gates, surveillance grids, and private security forces. The apocalypse had not arrived yet. Society still functioned under strict laws and rigid order. Strolling through the front gates uninvited was a guaranteed trip to a police cell. But this pharmacy offered a blind spot to bypass the billion-dollar security system.

Taking her oversized bags, Harper left the sterile lights of the store and slipped into a shadowed park two blocks down the street. The night air was growing crisp. She found an empty corner shrouded by thick oak trees and stepped behind a large brick monument. With a mere thought, she accessed her storage space. The heavy bags of medical supplies vanished from her hands, safely stowed in her interdimensional void. She worked with practiced speed, stripping off her fitted jacket and changing into a generic teenage boy's outfit. She pulled on baggy dark denim jeans, an oversized black hoodie, a black face mask, and a low-pulled baseball cap. She tucked her short hair securely under the cap, ensuring not a single strand remained visible. Standing at five foot eight, her lean, athletic frame easily passed for a lanky youth when she slouched her shoulders.

She jogged back toward the pharmacy, hunching her posture and clutching her stomach dramatically.

The same worker looked up from the counter, blinking in surprise. "Sir, can I help you with something?"

"My stomach hurts. I need the restroom first. Get me some diarrhea medicine. Hurry!" Harper mumbled the frantic words through her mask, rushing past the aisles of vitamins and supplements without breaking stride.

She shoved a crisp hundred-dollar bill into the stunned worker's hand as she passed the register.

"Hey, your change—"

"Keep it." Harper threw the words over her shoulder.

She darted straight into the back restroom and shut the heavy wooden door. She twisted the deadbolt, the lock clicking firmly into place.

Harper dropped the frantic act in a flash. Her posture straightened, her eyes scanning the small bathroom with lethal efficiency. The frosted window and air vent faced the sprawling grounds of Emerald Estate. A row of blooming magnolia trees stood just beyond the glass, their pale flowers bright under the distant streetlamps. Below the window lay a manicured patch of dense, overgrown bushes, providing excellent cover.

She stepped onto the toilet seat and grabbed the windowsill, pulling herself up in one smooth motion. Crouching on the narrow tiled ledge, she retrieved a multi-bit screwdriver from her hoodie pocket. The heavy security bars covering the glass were fastened from the inside. She unscrewed the metal bolts, her hands steady and silent. The iron grille came loose. She set it gently against the bathroom wall.

Harper slid through the narrow opening and dropped into the night. The moment her boots hit the earth, she tucked her shoulder and rolled quietly into the thick foliage of the wealthy neighborhood.

Now, she waited.

She blended seamlessly into the shadows of the manicured bushes. Drawing on fifteen brutal years of apocalyptic survival instincts, she slowed her breathing to a faint, rhythmic whisper. The old Harper from before the apocalypse would have gone mad from the itching leaves, the damp soil soaking through her jeans, and the crawling insects. But after enduring a frozen wasteland where a single snapped twig meant death, hiding in a suburban garden was a luxury vacation. She could squat in a raging blizzard or bake in a dead, sun-scorched desert for an entire day without twitching a single muscle. Out of ten billion people, she had been one of the last remaining survivors. She knew how to become a ghost.

The armed security guards passed by her position four times on their rotating patrols. Heavy tactical boots crunched on the gravel less than seven feet away from her face. Bright flashlights swept over the magnolia trees, casting long shadows across the lawn. Not one of them noticed the statue-like figure lying motionless in the dirt.

The sky turned pitch black. The bustling noise of the surrounding city faded into a deep, heavy silence.

Harper watched the luminous hands of her tactical watch. When the hour hand struck three in the morning, she finally moved.

Under the thick cover of darkness, she sneaked across the manicured lawns. She mapped the blind spots of the rotating security cameras, timing her sprints between the sweeping red sensors. She made her way to the center of the estate, stopping before the largest, most opulent villa on the property. All the windows were dark. The billionaire and his stolen family were fast asleep.

Keeping her back pressed against the cold stone exterior, she sidled toward the rear kitchen entrance. She slid the flathead screwdriver under the window sash and pried it upward with a forceful twist. The lock gave way with a soft click.

She hoisted herself over the sill and slipped inside the mansion.

The instant her feet touched the imported marble floor, she crouched behind the massive granite kitchen island and listened. Only the low hum of a luxury refrigerator broke the silence.

The mansion was a sprawling, confusing maze of lavish rooms, winding hallways, and vaulted ceilings. She had no idea where the gold bars might be hidden, and she had no time to search every single room before dawn. She needed a direct approach. The most valuable secrets were always kept close to the master of the house.

Bypassing the ground floor, she headed straight up the sweeping mahogany staircase. She padded silently down the plush carpet of the second-floor landing and stopped before the grand double doors of the master bedroom.

Harper slowly turned the brass knob. The heavy hinges swung inward without making a sound.

A shaft of moonlight spilled across a massive king-sized bed. A beautiful woman lay fast asleep, wrapped tightly in the arms of a handsome young man who was clearly not the billionaire owner of the house.

Harper smirked in the shadows. What a scandalous discovery.

She pulled out her phone and silenced the shutter sound. She snapped several high-resolution pictures and recorded a crisp video of the sleeping lovers. If the billionaire ever tracked her down and tried to cause trouble in the future, this leverage would ruin him in a heartbeat.

Tucking the phone securely away, she turned her attention to the massive walk-in closet adjacent to the bed.

She opened the frosted glass doors and stepped inside. The space was staggering. It spanned two hundred square feet, lined with custom shelving holding rows of designer clothes, exotic leather bags, and velvet display cases.

She tapped into her spatial ability. There was no need to sort through the loot manually.

With a single, focused thought, she swept the entire room. Hundreds of designer gowns, diamond-encrusted watches, luxury handbags, and all the hidden gold jewelry tucked inside the velvet cases vanished into thin air, dropping directly into her storage void.

The sudden absorption of the hidden gold sent a strange, warm pulse echoing through her mind. Harper checked her storage dimension and her eyes widened in the dark.

The dimension had doubled in capacity right on the spot. The raw gold had triggered a massive spatial expansion. This alone made the dangerous break-in worth the risk, even if she never found the rumored bullion hoard.

Leaving the master suite untouched, she proceeded to loot several other guest rooms down the hall. Finding no more jewelry, she settled for stripping the beds bare. She absorbed thick winter bedding, expensive silk blankets, satin sheet sets, premium down comforters, and soft plush throws into her void. She would freeze without proper insulation when the ice age hit, so she saved herself the trouble of buying them later.

Just as she finished emptying the fourth guest room, the sudden roar of a heavy car engine echoed loudly in the front driveway.

Tires screeched to a halt outside. A split second later, the abrupt snap of the living room lights turning on shattered the pitch-black silence of the house.

Harper's heart hammered against her ribs.

The heavy front door opened. Deep, authoritative voices echoed in the lower foyer.

She ducked into a narrow, dark storage closet at the end of the hallway and pulled the louvered door shut. She crouched in the dusty dark, holding her breath.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the marble stairs. The men walked right past her hiding spot, their boots thudding against the floorboards, before they disappeared up the next flight of stairs onto the third floor.

Harper let out a shaky, silent sigh of relief in the cramped space.

She prepared to slip out, intending to leave the mansion while they were occupied upstairs. But as she shifted her weight to stand, her boots scraped against something unusually soft.

She paused. She looked down at the floor of the cramped closet.

Beneath her feet lay a thick, expensive handmade Poshain rug. The lavish fabric was woven with silk and gold threads. It was a bizarre, out-of-place item for a dusty storage closet meant for brooms and spare linens.

Harper knelt and pushed the heavy fabric aside.

A dark, flush wooden panel lay secured firmly into the floorboards. It blended seamlessly with the surrounding hardwood, measuring about three feet square, but a tiny, intricate metal lock was embedded in the corner.

She pulled a simple bobby pin from her hoodie pocket. She straightened the metal wire, inserting the tip into the tiny mechanism. She applied gentle tension, feeling for the pins. Click. Click. She picked the lock with a few quick, expert maneuvers. The clasp popped free.

She set the broken lock aside. Clenching her phone tightly between her teeth to shine the bright flashlight downward, she grabbed both sides of the heavy wooden panel and heaved it upward.

A hidden opening appeared in the floor.

Harper leaned over. The harsh beam of her flashlight cut through the dark void below. Her eyes went wide in the glare. She had hit the jackpot.