"Yvan, you…"
Winifred was about to scold him when she saw him frown, still holding her tight. "Winifred, look."
Following his gaze, she gasped. Her front door was splattered with red paint, with large words scrawled across it.
"QUACK," "DIE," and "PAY UP" were glaringly conspicuous.
The paint was dry, which meant it had been there for some time.
Her neighbors must have already seen it.
Winifred trembled with rage. Those people had gone too far.
Yvan held her close, stroking her back. "It's okay, it's okay. It's just some paint. I'll get someone to take care of it."
It took a long moment for Winifred to compose herself.
She stepped out of his embrace and mumbled a thank you before pulling out her keys.
Yvan took her hand. "You can't stay here. It's not safe."
"It's fine. The door is locked. They can't get in."
"No!" Yvan insisted. "What if they come back and try to break down the door while you're here alone?"
Winifred lowered her eyes. "The police said those people have already been arrested. It should be fine."
"But what if they have accomplices?" he pressed. "You shouldn't stay here. I'm worried."
Winifred bit her lip, saying nothing.
She had nowhere else to go. She didn't want to impose on Queena, and while Stella wouldn't mind putting her up for a while, she didn't want to drag her friend into her mess.
Yvan saw the conflict in her eyes. "Winifred, come stay at my place. The security is excellent; no one can get in without authorization."


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