Chapter 2

Kyle didn't know.

None of the classmates back in the private booth knew either.

If I had just pulled out the property deed back in the restaurant, that high-and-mighty act of his would have shattered completely on the spot.

Yet I never did it.

It wasn't because I was scared of him.

It was because of Kyle's dad, William Jenkins.

Two years ago, right after I graduated, I only had a few hundred bucks left to my name, barely enough to cover the next month's rent.

Back then, William went behind his family's back and gave me a two-month extension on my rent.

When I was stuck in bed running a high fever, he even dropped off two hot meals right outside my door. To keep me from feeling awkward, he didn't even knock, just texted me instead: [Kid, everyone hits rough patches. Just hang in there and push through it.]

Later on, the Jenkins went bankrupt, and this apartment building was seized and auctioned off by the court to settle their debts.

It was only after I successfully bid on the building that I found out William had started driving for a delivery app just to pay off what was left.

He still had no clue that the new owner of this building was me.

I had planned to wait until all the paperwork and legal handovers were completely finalized, then tell him calmly. It would be a way to pay back that kindness from years ago and leave the Jenkins with a shred of dignity.

Judicial foreclosure properties always came with a transition period.

Until the official handover was fully wrapped up and all the tenants in the building were notified, the existing rental contract remained completely valid, and tenants were legally required to keep paying according to the original agreement.

That was why my 1,500-dollar rent payment last week went straight into the old collection account.

That money wasn't handed over to Kyle.

It certainly wasn't an admission that he still had any right to act like a landlord.

I did it so the building's tenants wouldn't be thrown into chaos by the ownership transition. It was also to stop the Jenkins from finding out early, panicking, hiking up rent during the final stretch, holding deposits hostage, or harassing the long-term residents.

Kyle assumed that because I paid, I was terrified of him.

He had no idea.

I just didn't want to burn bridges yet.

If he was determined to stomp all over the last bit of grace William had left me...

If he went ahead and smashed things tonight, what he was breaking wouldn't just be my front door.

It would be his own last remaining escape route.

By the time the convoy of cars pulled up in front of the old building, it was already pushing nine at night.

Kyle was the first one out of the vehicle.

He slammed his car door extra hard, tilting his head back to glare at the apartment complex.

"This is my building."

Mason trailed right behind him, instantly laying on the flattery. "Even if it's a little old, the location is prime. Kyle, you're gonna be pulling in passive income without lifting a finger."

Kyle cracked a smile.

"You call this anything? My old man's got way more assets locked down. Once I graduate, I can pull out a property just like that to launch my own startup."

He said it as casually as breathing.

Yet none of the other classmates chimed in behind him.

Back at the booth, everyone had bought into his rich kid persona.

Standing right in front of this run-down building, though, plenty of them were starting to have second thoughts.

Kyle didn't notice a thing.

He led the crew upstairs, and the second they reached the third floor, he spotted me standing right outside my door.

Mr. Ward and a professional locksmith were standing close by, clutching their heavy toolboxes.

Mr. Ward caught sight of me blocking the entrance, a deeply awkward expression crossing his face. "Look, Kyle, this tenant says he has a valid lease. Maybe we should reconsider..."

"Reconsider what?"

Kyle cut him off, marching right up to my face.

"Liam, this is your last warning. Beg for forgiveness right now, pay the updated rent difference, and I'll let you pack up your trash and leave."

I raised my phone, flashing the screen on to record.

"I paid my rent according to the contract. You're trying to break my locks and haul off my personal property, and I'm recording everything as evidence."

Kyle glanced at the phone, his hand shooting out to knock it away.

I took a sharp step back, dodging his reach.

"Keep your hands off my phone."

"You've got the nerve to record me?"

Kyle's expression twisted into an ugly scowl.

"You think a little video clip is going to scare me off? This building is mine. I'm clearing out my own property, so what's the issue?"

"Whether it's actually yours depends on the property records. Don't push things past the point of no return."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

I raised the phone a little higher.

"Just reminding you to think about the aftermath before you do something stupid."

Kyle glanced back over his shoulder toward Paige.

Paige was hanging out near the back of the crowd, arms crossed tight over her chest, looking profoundly bored.

Kyle ground his teeth, pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet, and slammed it onto the locksmith's toolbox.

"There's a grand right there. That enough for you or what?"

The locksmith jumped, startled by the cash.

Kyle jabbed a finger at my front door. "Pick it. Now."

"Boss, this isn't standard procedure..."

"I said break the lock!"

"But he has a lease..."

"If anything blows up, I take the blame!"

Kyle grabbed the locksmith by the collar of his jacket.

"Do you want to make easy money or not? A grand to pop a single lock. Get it done and walk away. Who's gonna touch you?"

The locksmith glanced from the pile of cash to me, then thought better of it and kept his hands to his sides.

Mr. Ward stepped in, lowering his voice in a warning tone. "Kyle, if the police get involved in this, nobody's walking away looking good."

"Even you're turning on me now?"

Kyle whipped his head around to glare at him.

Mr. Ward stayed quiet.

Right at that exact second, Paige let out a quiet, sarcastic scoff.

It wasn't loud, but it carried clearly enough to hit Kyle’s ears.

"Real impressive."

Kyle snapped back around. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing."

"You think I don't have the guts?"

"I just think throwing cash around to bully people doesn't make you tough."

Paige finished her sentence and stepped back against the hallway wall.

Color drained from Kyle’s face, instantly replaced by a furious red flush.

Looking like he'd been cornered at the edge of a cliff, he suddenly lunged forward, snatching a heavy hammer right out of the locksmith's toolbox.

"Everybody back up."

Mason scrambled to scurry out of the way. "Kyle, you're gonna do it yourself?"

"When you're dealing with trash like this, words are a waste of breath."

Kyle gripped the handle, hoisted the hammer high, and brought it crashing down hard against the doorknob.

“Bam!”

A heavy, muffled thud echoed through the stairwell of the old building.

The lock merely buckled inward with a deep dent.

I didn't blink, tapping my screen to dial emergency services.

"Hi, police? Someone is trying to break into my apartment by force and steal my personal belongings."

Hearing the word police made Kyle even more reckless, a manic grin spreading across his face.

"Calling the cops?"

He brandished the hammer, pointing it straight at my chest.

"When the officers get here, I'll tell them you're a delinquent tenant who’s behind on rent and squatting on my property."

I stared right into his eyes, my voice entirely level.

"You're going to regret this."

"The only thing I regret is ever letting a broke loser like you move into my building in the first place."

Kyle swung the hammer back for another strike.

This time, the deadbolt gave a sharp, metallic screech.

It cracked wide open.