I bought a house four years ago but never moved in or renovated it. Two years later, I suddenly started receiving utility bills. Confused, I returned to check on the house, only to find strangers living in it! One day, after work, I got a notification on my phone for an overdue utility bill. Staring at the unfamiliar house number on the screen, it took me a moment to realize—I did own a house with that address. It was the house my mom, Sharon Hawkins, had bought for me near my college, thinking I might not enjoy dorm life. But I made a last-minute decision to pursue studies abroad, so the house had been left empty right after renovation. The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. No one should be living in that house, so how on earth were there utility bills? With growing curiosity, I followed the familiar route to Maplewood Heights, the neighborhood where the house was located. … Standing at the front door, I noticed something immediately off. The front door, which I remembered being a dull brown, had been replaced with a brand-new, shiny black security door. I checked the house number again, “808”—yep, this was definitely the right place. Staring at the unfamiliar black door and catching a whiff of a horrible odor leaking from inside, I felt an overwhelming sense of unease. Without hesitation, I called a locksmith. Charlie McIntyre, the locksmith, arrived quickly, giving me a suspicious once-over. “This is your house?” he asked. I quickly pulled out my property deed and ID, handing them over. “Of course! Here are the documents. Check for yourself.” He examined the papers carefully before handing them back, still looking uncertain. “I really need to get inside. How about I pay you an extra hundred?” I offered anxiously. That did the trick. He handed the documents back, crouched down, and opened his toolbox while mumbling, “Strange. Wasn’t the last tenant here an old lady?” “What did you say?” I asked, surprised. Before I could probe further, a sharp voice interrupted behind us. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Before I could react, my shoulder was shoved hard, and a white-haired old woman—Gloria Pittman—charged forward, pointing a finger at the locksmith’s face. “How dare you?! Trying to rob me in broad daylight? In my own home?” Before we could even respond, her hand shot out, scratching Charlie across the face, leaving a deep red mark. He yelped in pain, clutching his nose and pointing at me, “I’m not a thief! He told me to unlock it!” Gloria turned to face me, her eyes scanning me before locking onto the Gold Lion Pendant hanging around my neck. Her expression shifted into one of greed, and she stomped toward me, cursing. “You little punk! Starting a life of crime already? You need a good lesson today!” She lunged at me, reaching out with her claws. I frowned and took a step back, causing her to miss. The old woman immediately changed tactics—collapsing to the ground, dramatically wailing. “Oh Lord, this young man is breaking into my house and now he’s attacking me too! Somebody help me!” Her voice was so loud that the neighbors began poking their heads out of their doors to see what was going on. I’d never seen anything like this in my life. My instinct was to back away, but seeing the crowd, Gloria started screaming even louder. She reached out, clutching at my pant leg, pinning me in place. “You can’t leave! You knocked me down, and now I can’t move! You’ll have to take responsibility!” What?! I hadn’t even touched her! “Ma’am, be careful with your accusations. I haven’t even laid a hand on you! The locksmith can testify!” I said, turning to Charlie for backup, but to my shock, he averted his eyes and remained silent. Gloria’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she dug her sharp nails into my leg. “You see? No decent person would back you up. So, how about you compensate me like a good boy?” Her gaze returned to the gold pendant around my neck, her intentions clear as day. With no help in sight, I took a deep breath, calming myself before letting out a small chuckle. “And how exactly do you want me to compensate you?” I asked coolly. Her eyes lit up. She pointed directly at my Gold Lion Pendant. “I can’t even get up without going to the hospital, and that’ll cost at least a couple thousand! But I’m a kind person. Your little gold pendant looks nice. Why don’t you give me that, and we’ll call it even?” I nodded. “Sure, but before I hand it over, could you answer two quick questions?” Blinded by greed, Gloria agreed immediately. “What do you want to know?” I gestured toward the black security door. “Is this your house?” “Of course it’s my house!” she snapped without hesitation. “Oh really? Then how did the house I bought become yours?” Her face froze, and she stammered, “W-what do you mean? I don’t understand!” “I mean, why are you living in my house?” Her eyes flickered with guilt, but she stubbornly pushed back. “This is my house! I’ve been living here for years! Where’s your proof that it’s yours?” “Oh, I’ve got proof.”
I reached into my bag and slowly pulled out the property deed, opening it to the first page and pointing at the owner’s name. There, in bold letters, it clearly said Darren Hawkins. The neighbors around us started murmuring louder. “Wait, so it’s not her house?” “She’s been lying about owning this place all along?” “I thought so. How could that old hag afford a house in this nice neighborhood when she collects trash all day?” Hearing the gossip, Gloria’s face flushed red with anger. She lunged at me, trying to snatch the deed from my hands. I swiftly raised my arm, holding the deed out of her reach with a smirk. “Aren’t you the one who couldn’t even stand up a minute ago? Looks like a miracle recovery to me.” Realizing her mistake, she scowled, pushing me roughly. “I’ve lived here for three years! This house is mine! Who knows where you crawled out from!” I nearly laughed out loud. “So by your logic, if someone lives in a house for three years, it automatically becomes theirs?” “That’s right! If I’m living here, it’s my house!” she shouted. The commotion had finally drawn the attention of Travis Pittman, the security guard. He arrived, looking completely uninterested in the truth. “What’s going on here? Why’s there so much yelling?” Gloria’s eyes lit up again as she pointed at me and wailed, “Thank God you’re here! This guy is trying to break into my house, saying it’s his! You’ve got to help me!” Without asking any questions, Travis shielded her and glared at me. “How’d you get in here? Do you even know where you are? You can’t just harass residents like this!” I’ve dealt with unreasonable people, but this was a new level. I shoved the deed in Travis’s face. “Check again. I am the owner of this house.” When Travis saw the property deed, his expression faltered. Realizing the other neighbors were watching, he tried to snatch the deed from me. But after Gloria’s attempt, I wasn’t about to let anyone grab it. I quickly stepped back. “What do you think you’re doing? I’ll hold it while you look,” I said. Angered, Travis barked, “How do I know if this deed is even real? You probably forged it, trying to steal the house! Get lost!” He moved to shove me, while Gloria used the distraction to unlock the door with her key. The door swung open, and an overpowering stench hit me so hard I nearly vomited. Through the crack in the door, I saw mountains of garbage piled high. A rat squealed as it darted out through the opening. “Ugh!” I recoiled. In the chaos, Gloria slipped inside and slammed the door shut. I started pounding on it, but Travis blocked me, tapping his nightstick threateningly. “Better leave now, or I’ll drag you out myself.” Feeling defeated and with no help from the locksmith, I left, my frustration boiling.
I headed straight to the Maplewood Police Station, hoping for help. But it turned out Gloria was already well known to them. The officer who greeted me looked exasperated. “Yeah, we know her. But there’s not much we can do. She’s old, stubborn, and causes trouble often,” he said, carefully choosing his words. I could read between the lines—Gloria was a nuisance, and the cops didn’t want to deal with her. The officer suggested, “This is more of a civil matter. You’ll have to take it to court if you want the house cleared. The court can enforce eviction.” Court? That could take forever. And meanwhile, my house would keep rotting under piles of garbage. I took a deep breath, an idea forming in my mind. Turning to the officer, I asked, “Officer, is it illegal for me to enter my own property to clean out the trash?” He hesitated but then cleared his throat. “If there’s no lease in place, it’s not illegal. Just don’t hurt anyone.” Perfect. With a newfound sense of determination, I marched out of the police station, ready to take matters into my own hands. As I left, I spotted Gloria peeking into a trash bin down the street, accompanied by Travis. I ducked behind a sign, listening in. “Mom, do you think that guy’s going to take the house back?” “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he never steps foot inside again,” Travis assured her. Well, well, no wonder Travis had been acting strange. They were in this scam together. The conversation continued. “What if he calls the cops? He’s got the property deed,” Gloria fretted. Travis slapped his chest confidently. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find a way to steal the deed and destroy it. Uncle Mitch can make us a new one.” I clenched my jaw. These fools actually thought they could win by tearing up the property deed? As the video I’d been recording on my phone ended, I let out a cold laugh. I now knew exactly what I was dealing with. Time to make them pay.
Early the next morning, I timed it perfectly for when Gloria Pittman went out to collect trash, and I stormed into Maplewood Heights with a group of guys at my back. Her son, Randy Pittman, tried to block our way, but the moment he saw the crew of big, burly men behind me, his bravado fizzled out, and he meekly followed us to the door. When we reached the house, I directed my crew, “Break the door open!” As soon as the door swung open, the stench from the day before came rushing out, making us all recoil. What lay before us was an unbelievable sight—mountains of garbage piled high: empty cans, cardboard, foam boxes, and unwashed food containers. What I had seen the day before was just the tip of the iceberg. “Ugh…” I gagged, pinching my nose. “Clear all this out. Every last bit.” I paused for a second and added, “Careful though, stack it neatly by the dumpsters.” I had hired a professional crew, and they didn’t flinch in the face of the overwhelming stench. With gloves on, they got to work efficiently. Meanwhile, Travis Pittman, the security guard, was in the background, making a hushed phone call to alert Gloria. I pretended not to notice. By the time Gloria arrived, lugging her sack of trash, half of her beloved garbage fortress had already been cleared. “Put that down! You thieves! Put it all back!” The fragile, tearful Gloria from the day before was now leaping three feet in the air, screeching as she tried to attack the men moving her precious junk. But before she could land a blow, one of the guys easily grabbed her by the collar, lifted her off the ground, and calmly set her down in the corner of the room. The once brazen woman fell silent, eyes wide as she took in the sight of the strong man’s bulging biceps. Then she spotted me, and the rage returned. She screamed, “You again! I’ll claw your eyes out this time!” She lunged at me, her sharp nails reaching for my face, but once again, she was lifted by the collar and placed aside by my crew. I casually lit a cigarette and called out, “Keep going. Clean the house out. I want the locks changed.” Helpless, Gloria could only scream at her son, Randy, “Call your uncle! Get Mitchell here right now!” My interest was piqued. I decided to let them make the call. I was curious to finally meet the so-called property manager who handed over my house to them.
It wasn’t long before a short, pudgy middle-aged man wearing glasses rushed over. Trailing behind him, to my surprise, were the two police officers from the previous day, Officer Jerome Carter and Officer Lisa Morales. When Gloria saw the property manager, she ran toward him like he was her savior. But before she could say anything, he shoved her aside. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Mitchell Pittman greeted the police with an obsequious smile, pointing toward me. “Officers, this man has broken into one of our resident’s homes and is removing their belongings without permission!” I had to give him credit. He was trying to flip the script and make me the villain. Officer Carter turned to me, ready for my explanation. “Sir, please explain your side of the situation.” I calmly reached into my bag, pulling out the property deed. “Officers, I didn’t break into their house. I broke into my house.” Before either officer could take the document, Travis, who had been lurking in the background, suddenly darted forward. He snatched the deed from my hand and, before anyone could react, ripped out the page with my name on it and shoved it into his mouth! “What are you doing?!” I shouted. Both officers immediately restrained him, trying to get him to spit out the evidence, but it was too late. He had swallowed the shredded paper. His brazen destruction of the deed was as good as a confession of guilt. Officer Morales glared at Travis, her expression stern. “Sir, you’re under arrest for the destruction of property. You’re coming with us to the station.” “Wait!” Mitchell suddenly interjected, glaring daggers at Travis before stepping forward with a forced smile. “One thing at a time, Officers. I’m the one who called you, so you need to help me first,” he said smoothly. The officers exchanged wary glances, and Mitchell continued, “The property deed was destroyed, and none of us saw what was written on it. There’s no proof this house belongs to this gentleman. We can’t just take his word for it, right?” He threw me a smug look, trying to sow doubt in the officers’ minds. Officer Carter responded coldly, “If the deed is damaged, he can request a new one from the housing authority. They can confirm ownership.” “I understand,” Mitchell said, rubbing his hands together nervously, “but that will take time. In the meantime, shouldn’t we stop him from doing anything else to the property?” The officers seemed unsure. While they didn’t completely buy Mitchell’s story, they were bound by procedure, and they looked at me apologetically. Mitchell’s smirk deepened. He knew that as long as he could stall, he could keep me from reclaiming the house for a bit longer. But I was one step ahead. I lazily waved my hand. “There’s no need to make this complicated.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294899”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #玄幻Fantsy
Leave a Reply