On the drive home, my dad didn’t talk. He just stared out the window, jaw tight. When we pulled into the driveway, he paused, hand on the door handle.
“She wants me to feel small,” he said. And I knew he was right. The next morning, Madison escalated from threats to a full-on land grab.
A survey crew appeared at the edge of our property line pounding stakes into the ground. I walked out and asked who authorized it. One of the guys shrugged and handed me a printed email
.Cedar Hollow HOA letterhead. Madison’s signature. A claim that they were reestablishing community boundaries due to historical usage.
I called Madison. She answered like she’d been waiting. “Oh, Ethan, don’t be dramatic.
We’re just correcting a misunderstanding.”
“You’re trespassing,” I said. She sighed. “If you cause a scene, I’ll have security handle it.
Or law enforcement. Whatever’s needed
