2

Trying not to gag at the stench, I spent two hours clearing the garbage from my gate.

When I got back to the backyard, what I saw made me tremble.

A whole row of seedlings along the wall had turned black and begun to wilt. I could smell weed killer.

A long spray wand disappeared over the wall into the yard next door.

Sophie was wearing gloves, looking very pleased with herself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was spraying for weeds and bugs in my own yard, and the wind carried it over."

Most of four years of work, gone.

I stormed over to the wall. "You did that on purpose. Those flowers are part of a national research project. Destroying them is a crime!"

The look on my face made Sophie take a step back. Then she laughed in my face.

"Sure, I did it on purpose. Go ahead and hit me if you've got the guts. Let's see who ends up in jail first. Keep glaring at me, and this afternoon I'll dump the whole bottle over there!"

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shoved the murderous urge back down where it came from.

Trading blows with someone like her would get me nowhere.

Then, at noon, the community's private social network blew up.

Sophie had posted a video she'd secretly taken of me cleaning up the garbage at my gate. The caption read, "My husband, Vice President David Miller, and I have decided to host a party at Lot Eight tomorrow. We'll also hold a public fundraiser to raise $5,000 for this poor maid. Please give generously. Let's help someone at the bottom get a decent meal."

The comments filled with people scrambling to flatter David.

[Mr. and Mrs. Miller are so kind!]

[I paid over ten million dollars to live here, and I have to put up with lowlifes like her?]

[Management needs to help these good people clear out that yard. Don't let that ungrateful maid ruin everyone's day.]

Some even said I should come out, take the money, and bow to thank them.

They trampled on my dignity and called their theft of my property charity.

I'd barely put my phone down when someone started pounding on my gate again.

There was a whole group outside.

Sophie led the way, holding David's arm. Carl from property management followed with security guards and two reporters carrying cameras.

Sophie pointed at me, thrilled.

"Quick, get her on camera. This is the poor little thing I told everyone about."

Then she plastered on a saintly smile and reached out to grab me.

I stepped aside. "Stay away from me."

Sophie grabbed at nothing. For the cameras, she switched to a heartbroken expression.

"Sweetie, I know you're self-conscious and scared of the cameras, but everyone here just wants to help."

David stuck out his big gut and planted himself in front of the cameras.

"This poor girl has no one, and she's been suffering in this yard. At tomorrow's party, I'm going to sponsor her long-term through Vaughn Realty."

David pulled out a giant novelty check and shoved it into my arms, threatening me under his breath.

"Listen, bitch, the cameras are rolling. Take it and bow to us three times. Ruin this, and this afternoon I'll have you hauled off in cuffs for trespassing."

The reporters crowded in for a shot.

I grabbed that big check, snapped it in half, and smashed one half into David's face and the other into Sophie's.

"Take your trash and get out!"

Humiliated in public, David flew into a rage.

"I was doing you a favor!"

He swung his briefcase at my head.

I threw up my arm to block it. The clasp sliced open the back of my hand and my forearm, and blood poured from both cuts.

Instead of stopping him, Sophie blamed me.

"The crazy woman is attacking people. Carl, lock her gate! First thing tomorrow, bring in a bulldozer, and if anything goes wrong, David will take care of it!"

Carl and a few guards locked my gate from the outside.

Outside, Sophie was still riling up the reporters.

"Did you get all that? This maid destroyed a charity donation and attacked David. She's seriously violent!"

David wiped his face and yelled, "Weld that lock shut. Before the party tomorrow, not even a fly gets out!"

Carl nodded eagerly. "Don't worry, Mr. Miller. The welding torch is on its way. She's not getting out!"

The cars drove off, and it finally went quiet outside.

I just looked down at my bleeding hand.

After I'd cleaned the wounds, I sat exhausted in the dim room.

The real destruction came before morning.

Late at night, machines roared in my yard.

A crane boom stretched over my lawn toward my glass sunroom.

Every research sample from the past four years was inside.

David stood on the balcony next door with Sophie, a cigar in his mouth.

"That bitch was guarding this junk all day, wasn't she? Smash it all to pieces!

"Move it. I need room for the carpet and the bar."

The next second, the glass roof shattered.

Workers with sledgehammers climbed over the wall and started smashing everything while Sophie laughed.

They stomped every seedling in the petri dishes into mush.

Four years. More than 1,400 days and nights.

I'd turned down all my other work and stayed out of the spotlight, raising these flowers myself like a farmer.

These flowers were a miracle that could survive the harshest desert conditions, and I was about to show them to the world.

And all for David's ego.

Now it was all gone.