"The charger log is recording every second of this," Marcus said coldly. He scrolled through the app on his phone. "It also recorded your car's digital signature every Tuesday and Thursday for the last month. You've stolen over two hundred dollars' worth of electricity."
Susan gasped. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. The arrogant facade crumbled instantly. She was no longer a righteous community leader; she was a thief caught with irrefutable, digital proof.
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. Susan looked at the flashing warning on the charger, then at Marcus’s phone, and finally at Marcus’s unyielding expression. The reality of the situation crashed down upon her.
"Unlock my car," Susan whispered, her voice trembling, all trace of entitlement completely gone.
"I will," Marcus replied calmly. "But before you leave, I am sending an invoice to your email address for the electricity you stole, plus a trespassing fee. If the invoice is not paid in full by tomorrow morning, this digital log and the security footage of your license plate will be handed over to the police for theft of services."
Susan swallowed hard, her face pale. She gave a stiff, jerky nod. Marcus tapped his screen, and the charger released a loud, mechanical click. Susan hastily ripped the cord out, practically throwing it on the ground, and scrambled into her luxury SUV. She reversed out of the driveway so fast her tires squealed against the concrete.