Page 79 of Rizzed Up By My Alien Neighbor
“Here is evidence of procedural illegality in the Lipnicky Holding Group,” I say, my voice measured. “We request expedited review and injunction against pending evictions.”
She takes the file, thumbs through, glancing over the cover memo. I hold eye contact—firm, respectful. Then she nods. “I’ll give this to the legal department. It may take a few days. Did you include the biometric evidence?”
I inhale slowly. “Yes. A scan indicating non-human signature within Mr. Lipnicky’s biographical paperwork.”
Her eyebrows lift. “I’ll make sure it’s attached.” She stamps the receipt. I take it, folding it into my suit jacket with precision.
Nessa exhales behind me.
“Thank you,” she says, tone quiet but trembling with relief.
“We’re not done yet,” I reply. “We wait—and prepare for the fallout.”
Back home, evening draws shadows across the yard. Fireflies glow in the trimming grass. I help Nessa hang up floral curtains she mentioned in a text earlier. It takes about thirty seconds—and I’m fumbling with the rod. I suppress a sigh and Nessa notices.
“You okay?” she asks, standing behind me.
“Suit doesn’t fit well for curtain work,” I say softly. She smirks and adjusts the rod.
“We’ll buy you Velcro,” she teases. Then her expression softens. “Thank you. Today... you were the shield I didn’t even know I needed.”
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I feel the curl of her hair against my neck, the warmth of her hand steadying my elbow. Protection isn’t about weapons. It’s moments like these—quiet, intimate, shared.
I finally say, “You don’t need my shield, Nessa. You’re the one who holds this line.”
Her breath hitches. Then she turns, pressing her cheek to my chest. We stay that way until Sammy’s footsteps echo upstairs.
Later, Sammy bounds down, a stack of papers in her hand—each one crammed with drawings of real estate maps, sticky notes, and stars circling Lipnicky’s name.
“We made signs,” she announces with a proud grin. “Not protest signs,” she clarifies before I can react, “legal signs. ‘Stop illegal eviction.’ With citations and lawyer info.” Her brows scrunch. “We put them up in Mister Rossi’s yard and Mrs. Nguyen’s too.”
I stare at her, then at Nessa, whose face has gone calm, then glowy with pride.
“Thank you,” I whisper to them both.
Sammy shrugs, unbothered. “I love a good thesis statement.”
I laugh low enough they hear me. The sound feels like home.
That night, we sit together—Nessa on the couch, me beside her, Sammy sprawled at our feet. Legal dramas play silently on the TV, but our living room is loud with feeling. We’re strong. United. Unlikely, but intentional.
I stretch out, letting the world close in around me. Tomorrow, Lipnicky might retaliate—his pride wounded.Grolgath networks could activate. The next few days will be tests—public records, enforcement orders, social media leaks.
This family moment, is why I fight.
My fingers curl around Nessa’s. The bond pulses steady, no rewiring needed. Not tonight.
CHAPTER 24
VANESSA
My hands tremble around the cellphone as Buford’s voicemail plays again. “We need to talk. About Sammy. And that weird-ass boyfriend of yours.” My chest clenches at his words—I’ve been holding this breakup at bay, pretending we’d moved past his threats—but his tone reminds me how far we still have to go. That he missed the alien showdown on Main Street? It may be his cowardice, or his blissful ignorance of world-shattering events happening outside his trailer, but it still stings.
I look across the kitchen at Rychne. He’s standing there—coffee cup in hand, suit slightly rumpled from last night’s events, his golden eyes shadowed by concern. “You want me with you?” he asks quietly, his accent rough around the edges, still not quite human.
I swallow. “No,” I say. “Not this time.”
His shoulders slump, but he nods. “I understand.” His voice is low, respectful. He turns to leave, but pauses. “I’ll be nearby. Close.”
