A utility bill led me back to the home I bought years ago. An old con artist had moved in. Her son guarded the door. Their relatives forged papers to steal my deed. They wanted a free house. What they got was me— and the revenge I brought with me. Four years ago, I bought a property but never moved in. Two years later, out of the blue, I started receiving overdue utility bills. Confused beyond belief, I went back to check—and found strangers living in my house. After work, I received a utility payment reminder on my phone. Staring at the unfamiliar address on the screen, it took me a minute to remember that I did have a property at that location. My mom had bought it for me during college, wanting me to have a place off-campus. But, in a last-minute decision, I ended up studying abroad, leaving the place vacant and barely furnished. That was when it hit me: no one should be living there. So where was this utility bill coming from? With mounting confusion, I headed to Oak Hollow Estates, following my memory. … Standing at the door, I noticed that the door itself looked nothing like what I remembered. The black steel door here was new, a stark contrast to the original one I had from the builder. I checked the door number again, feeling unsettled. “808. It’s definitely this one…” Staring at the unfamiliar black door, I caught a whiff of a foul odor leaking from inside. An uneasy feeling crept over me. I didn’t waste any time and called a locksmith. The locksmith, Silas Truitt, arrived quickly, giving me a once-over. “This your place?” I nodded, digging my property deed and ID from my bag to show him. “Of course. Here are the papers if you’d like to verify.” Silas studied the documents and, still looking wary, handed them back. Hoping to get inside quickly, I said, “Look, if it speeds things up, I can pay you a hundred extra, alright?” Silas finally crouched down, opened his toolkit, and muttered under his breath, “Wasn’t there an old lady living here before?” “What did you say?” I asked, but before he could answer, an angry voice yelled from behind us. “What do you think you’re doing?” Something knocked my shoulder as a frail-looking old lady rushed toward Silas, jabbing a finger in his face and shouting, “How dare you, trying to steal from my home in broad daylight!” With surprising strength, she swiped at him, her nails catching his face and leaving a scratch. Silas staggered back with a yelp, clutching his cheek, and pointed toward me. “It’s not me! She asked me to unlock it!” The old lady’s head snapped toward me, her eyes flickering over my face before settling on my necklace with a flash of greed. “Oh, you little thief,” she hissed, striding toward me. “You think I’ll let you get away with this?” As she reached for me, I stepped back, avoiding her. She shot me a quick, calculating look before dropping to the ground with a dramatic wail. “Oh, my bones! This young woman tried to break into my home, and now she’s attacking an old lady!” she shrieked, loud enough to draw nearby residents out of their doors to watch. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. I fought the urge to back away, but as people gathered, the woman clutched at my leg, crying out, “Don’t leave! You knocked me to the ground, and now I can’t move. You’re responsible!” “What?!” I protested. “I never touched you! Silas here can vouch for that.” But when I glanced at Silas, he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. The old lady’s expression twisted with smug satisfaction, her grip on my leg like a vice. “See? Good people don’t lie for thieves. Now, if you don’t want trouble, I suggest you compensate me.” She stared hungrily at my necklace, making her intention clear. Taking a steadying breath, I raised my chin. “Alright. What kind of compensation are you looking for?” Her eyes lit up, and she jabbed a finger toward my necklace. “Hospitals aren’t cheap! If you want me to forget this, leave that gold necklace as payment, and we’ll call it even.” I nodded. “Fine. But before I hand it over, answer a couple of questions?” Without hesitation, she agreed. “Ask away.” I gestured at the steel door. “First, is this your place?” “Of course it’s my place!” she snapped, not missing a beat. “Oh, really? Then why would my property become yours?” I asked with a pointed smile. She faltered, stammering, “I—I don’t understand what you mean.” “I mean it literally. Why are you living in my house?” A glint of guilt flashed in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders defiantly. “Who says it’s yours? I’ve lived here for years. What proof do you have that it belongs to you?” “Oh, I have proof, alright.” 2. Slowly, I pulled out my property deed, flipped to the first page, and pointed to the line clearly stating that Mara Carlisle was the registered owner. Behind me, my neighbor Alvin “Al” Renfield muttered in surprise, “So, it’s not even hers?” “Didn’t think she could afford a place like this,” another murmured. The crowd’s growing murmurs left the old lady’s face turning red with anger. She lunged toward me, reaching for the deed. I raised my hand just in time, laughing. “Weren’t you just unable to stand a second ago? Seems like you’ve made a miraculous recovery.” Realizing her blunder, she flushed, then shoved me hard, snarling, “I’ve been here for three years, so it’s mine now! Who are you to come out of nowhere and claim it?” I nearly laughed out loud. “So by your logic, anyone can move into any property and call it theirs after three years? Is that it?” “Yes, exactly!” Her shouting was so loud that finally, the complex’s security guard showed up. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. The old lady’s face lit up. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here! This girl was breaking into my home, saying it’s hers! You have to help me!” Without missing a beat, the guard stepped between us, glaring at me. “What are you doing here, disturbing the residents?” I’d never seen someone leap to conclusions so quickly. Exasperated, I shoved my deed toward him. “Why don’t you take a look and see who owns the property?” As he took in the document, his face briefly went pale, but with a glance at the gathered neighbors, he snatched for it. I pulled it back just in time. “What are you doing? I can hold it for you to read.” The guard’s face darkened. “Who knows if this is real or fake? Just waltzing in with a phony deed to take someone’s place? Get lost!” As he moved to push me away, the old lady took the chance to quickly unlock the door. The moment it opened, a stomach-turning stench wafted out, strong enough to make me gag. Inside, I saw heaps of trash, and a rat scurried out through the crack. The old lady darted inside and slammed the door shut. I started to knock, but the guard blocked my way, brandishing his baton. “Still here? I’ll kick you out myself!” Silas, the locksmith, finally spoke up in a low voice, “You might want to leave. That old lady is notorious for her antics. She’s always trying to take advantage of people, and no one wants to deal with her.” With a final sympathetic glance, he left. Glancing at the bulldog of a guard, I had no choice but to retreat for the moment. 3. Once outside, I headed straight to the Oak Hollow Sheriff’s Office, though I wasn’t holding my breath. The look on the deputy’s face confirmed my suspicions. “This case is a bit tricky. She’s older, and, well, she has a bit of a temper,” said Deputy Eli Boone, a touch sheepishly. His tone said it all: Agnes Forsythe, that “old lady,” liked to cause trouble. Even law enforcement had a hard time dealing with her. Seeing my frustration, he added, “The best option here is to file a civil suit. The court can issue an eviction order.” Who knew how long that would take? I could only imagine the state of the place by then, seeing how she was turning it into a junkyard. Taking a deep breath, I got an idea and asked, “Officer, I can go into my own property to clean up the trash, right?” The officer coughed and replied, “As long as there’s no lease in place, technically, you can. Just avoid any physical confrontations.” That was all I needed. With renewed energy, I left the station. Just as I stepped out, I saw the old lady herself, Agnes Forsythe, hunched over a dumpster, digging through garbage. Beside her, holding an oversized canvas sack, was none other than the guard—her son, Travis Forsythe. Freezing in place, I hid behind a sign just in time to catch their conversation. “Mom, you think that woman will come back for the place?” he asked. “Relax, Travis,” Agnes replied. “I won’t let her set foot in here again.” Ah. No wonder the guard had been so hostile. The two of them were in on it. “But she has the deed,” Agnes said, voice tinged with worry. “What if she calls the cops?” “Don’t worry,” Travis scoffed, puffing up his chest. “Next time, I’ll just grab the deed and rip it to pieces. No proof, no problem. Besides, Uncle Harvey Lane can make us a new one if we need it.” I clenched my fists, holding back a laugh. Did these two really think that destroying my deed would make the house theirs? Watching as the “Recording Complete” icon appeared on my phone, I smiled grimly. So, the Forsythe family thought they could stake a claim? They had no idea who they were dealing with. 4. Early the next morning, I gathered a small crew and returned to Oak Hollow Estates just as Agnes was out scavenging. Travis tried to block our way, but seeing the muscle I brought, he quickly stepped aside, muttering nervously. Reaching the door, I instructed the team, “Break it open.” The stench hit us immediately as the door opened, revealing an avalanche of trash—cans, cardboard, foam boxes, and unwashed takeout containers piled from floor to ceiling. I gagged and pinched my nose. “Clear it all out,” I ordered. Then, with a smirk, I added, “Carefully. Stack it all neatly by the garbage bins.” The hired team, worth every penny, tackled the job with professionalism, unaffected by the rancid smell. As they worked, Travis stepped back and whispered into his phone, probably summoning his mother. By the time Agnes arrived, clutching her oversized sack, half of her “collection” was gone. “Stop! Put it all back!” she shrieked, lunging forward. But one of the crewmen casually lifted her by the collar and set her aside. Sputtering with rage, she spotted me, screeching, “You little hussy! I’ll scratch your eyes out!” She was back at it again, her claws out. Another crew member lifted her and set her down in a corner, out of reach. I casually blew on my fingernails, glancing at the movers. “Hurry up and clear this place. I want the locks changed.” Fuming, Agnes screamed at her son, “Call your uncle! Now!” Amused, I watched as Travis dialed Harvey Lane Forsythe, the property manager. I was curious to see the man who had helped turn my house into a squatters’ paradise.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “309497”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #后宫Harem #重生Reborn #励志Inspiring
Leave a Reply