Chapter 1

On the first day of the Thanksgiving holiday, I got a call from our HOA management office:

"Is this the owner of Unit 1206? You're parked in the wrong spot. Could you please move your car?"

I gave an absentminded "sure" before stopping dead in my tracks. Wait a second. I bought that parking spot. How could I possibly be in the wrong space?

I assumed it was just a stupid prank and ignored it.

A few minutes later, someone tagged me directly in our building's WhatsApp community group: "@Unit1206 Do you have any basic decency? You stole my parking spot, and you won't even come down to move your damn car!"

I stared at my screen, completely baffled. Your spot? Then what the hell did I pay tens of thousands of dollars for?!

I glanced at the profile of the person who sent the message. He was a neighbor living on a lower floor, and he had even attached a photo of my car.

The assigned number painted in bright, bold letters right above the stall? He completely ignored it.

"Buddy, I bought that deeded spot, and that's my license plate. How exactly is it yours?"

I immediately messaged our HOA property manager: "Could you please double-check your records? Did you guys accidentally sell the same parking space to two different households?"

I was genuinely concerned the management had screwed up and double-sold it, leaving us to fight it out.

Other neighbors in the group chat started chiming in with laughing emojis: "No way, man! With the sky-high HOA fees we pay every month, they wouldn't mess up that bad, would they?"

The property manager replied almost instantly: "We checked the records. No mistake was made. That stall belongs exclusively to Unit 1206."

Alright, good. That put my mind at ease.

The group chat erupted into amused chatter.

"Dude, that's literally his spot. Not only did you try to claim it, but you also dragged him in the group!"

"Haha, guess it was just an awkward misunderstanding!"

"Just apologize and drop it, man!"

Thinking the matter was settled and crystal clear, I didn't give it another thought.

Little did I know, my phone rang barely a minute later. The second I picked up, a barrage of vile curses blasted through the speaker, making my blood boil!

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, asshole?! Didn't I tell you to get your ass down here and move the car?! Are you deaf?!"

"I've been waiting down here for thirty fucking minutes! Get your ass down here right now!"

I was honestly so stunned I almost laughed. "Oh, it's you. It's my private spot. Why the hell should I move for you?"

"Tell you what, if you want to park there that badly, pay me two hundred bucks and I'll let you crash there for the night."

"That spot is the closest one to the elevator! I've been parking there for three straight months! Move your piece of shit car right now!"

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. My condo had been undergoing renovations for the past few months, so I hadn't been using the garage stall. Now that the place was finished, aired out, and we had finally moved in, of course I needed my own spot.

Letting him freeload for three months suddenly made him think he owned the damn thing?

The man on the other end completely lost his mind. "You think you're robbing me?! Are you moving it or not?!"

"Not a chance in hell!"

"Just you fucking wait!"

I hung up and put it entirely out of my mind.

The WhatsApp group quieted down as well.

Early the next morning, I headed down to the underground garage to grab my car and pick up groceries. The moment I walked up to my car, I froze. Long, jagged scratches covered every single body panel—gouged so deep the primer was exposed!

A wave of blinding rage surged through my chest. I called the cops immediately and demanded the HOA pull the security footage.

To my absolute disbelief, the property manager claimed the camera covering my section was broken. Every other camera in the entire subterranean garage worked perfectly fine—except the one pointed right at my stall.

The manager put on an apologetic face: "It's the holiday weekend, sir. The technicians are all off. The earliest we can get someone out to repair it is next week."

The responding officer glanced around. "Do you have a dashcam with parking surveillance that might have captured something?"

I racked my brain and instantly thought of that belligerent jerk from last night. But without hard proof, I was stuck holding the bag.

The cop simply took a routine report. Without evidence, all I could do was stand there, clenching my jaw in silent fury.

I refused to let it slide. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

"What's up, bitch? Coming to beg your daddy for mercy?"

"You keyed my car, didn't you?"

He sneered through the receiver. "Don't try to bait me into a confession, loser. If you've got the balls, bring some evidence!"

It clicked. He was only acting this brazen because he knew damn well there were no working cameras.

"If you know what's good for you, give up that parking spot. Otherwise, your life's gonna get real miserable."

I took a deep, steadying breath. "Go ahead and try whatever you want. That spot is mine, and you're never touching it."

I refused to believe this scumbag would dare keep pushing his luck.

The moment I hung up, I turned on my car's built-in Sentry Mode. Then I jumped online and ordered a set of high-def, concealed surveillance cameras to rig around my parking stall.

Let's see if this coward dared to come back.

After placing the order, I drove to the supermarket. When I returned in my car later that afternoon, I spotted a middle-aged woman standing smack-dab in the center of my parking space from a distance.

I tapped my horn. She didn't budge an inch. Instead, she glared at me with beady, dead eyes and screeched, "What are you honking for?! My family's car is gonna be here any second!"