You Want My House? Over My Dead Body

"You're not going anywhere! You just knocked me to the ground, and now I can't move. You need to take responsibility!"

What the hell? I never even touched her!

"Ma'am, please watch what you're saying. I never even touched you. The locksmith can be my witness!"

I cast a pleading look at the locksmith, but to my surprise, he quietly looked away, too afraid to meet my gaze.

A gleam of triumph flashed in the old woman's eyes as she held on tight to my calf, her sharp nails digging into my skin.

"See? No decent man would vouch for you. You should just pay up!"

Her gaze locked onto the gold necklace around my neck, greed shining in her eyes. Her intentions were crystal clear.

Realizing no one was going to help me, I took a quiet breath to steady myself and let out a cold scoff. "What's your name, then? How exactly do you expect me to make it up to you?"

The old lady's eyes lit up. She immediately pointed at my gold necklace and said, "My name is Jane Bernard. I can't even stand up, and a hospital visit will cost thousands of dollars. I'm feeling generous, so just give me your gold necklace, and we'll call it even."

I nodded. "Sure, but before I compensate you, can you answer two questions?"

Without thinking, Jane nodded greedily. "What do you want to know?"

I pointed at the black door and asked cheerfully, "Is this your apartment?"

"Of course it's my apartment!" she replied instantly.

I continued, "Oh, is that so? How did the apartment I bought become yours?"

Jane froze, and she stuttered, "W-What are you talking about?"

"May I know why you are living in my apartment?"

A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes as she stiffened her neck and shot back, "What do you mean, your apartment? I've been living here for years. What proof do you have that it's yours?"

"I have proof, of course!"

I pulled out the deed from my bag slowly and showed it to her. The name written on it was clearly mine, Kiera Cowell!

The neighbors broke into a loud discussion behind us.

"Is this really not Jane's apartment?"

"What? So this isn't Jane's apartment?"

"I knew it. Jane hoards junk all over her place. There's no way she could afford a place in this upscale neighborhood!"

Hearing the whispers around us, Jane flew into a fit of rage and lunged at me, trying to snatch the deed.

I immediately raised my hand, holding the deed out of reach with a faint smile. "I thought you couldn't stand up? Is this a last burst of strength?"

Jane belatedly realized she had already stood up. She had no choice but to give me a hard shove and demanded angrily, "I've been living here for three years, so this is my apartment! Where did you even come from?"

I almost laughed in frustration. "So by your logic, no one needs to buy a house. Just move into someone else's place for three years, and it magically becomes yours?"

"I live here, so it's mine!"

As we were arguing, the building's security guard, Eric Goff, finally made his appearance.

Jane's eyes lit up as she quickly started a new round of complaining.