Sarah sent a message.

"Who changed the door lock? My parents can't get into the house."

Someone below asked: "Isn't it your own house?"

Sarah quickly withdrew the message.

I had already taken a screenshot.

Mrs. Henderson sent a voice message in the group.

"Chloe, what's the meaning of this? Our clothes are still inside, what do you think you're doing locking us out?"

I didn't reply.

Martha messaged me privately.

"Ms. Chloe, this is too much. A family of three is standing out at the door at night; it's affecting the order of the neighborhood."

I replied: "Moving in without the owner's consent is affecting my residential security. Please contact them to leave and document the scene."

She sent a long voice message.

I didn't open it.

I replied directly with text.

"Please communicate using text."

Martha didn't speak again.

Half an hour later, Liam called.

I didn't pick up.

He switched to texting.

"Do you really have to push people to this point?"

I replied: "They were the ones who moved into my home first."

He texted: "Mr. Henderson is already very angry. He said if you continue like this, he will bring out the housing agreement."

I looked at the words "housing agreement."

I actually felt relieved.

They had finally shown their fake hand.

Chapter 5

The next day, Julia had a lawyer friend help me send out legal notices.

One to Mr. Henderson.

One to Mrs. Henderson.

One to the property management company.

The content was very clear.

I have never authorized anyone to enter, reside in, or use this property.

It demanded they immediately stop the encroachment, restore the property to its original state, and preserve all public area records and relevant communication logs.

Less than an hour after the legal notices were sent, people in the neighborhood group chat began making snide remarks.

"We're all neighbors, sending legal notices is such an ugly move."

"The house was already lent out; going back on your word now is a bit unkind."

"I heard her fiancé agreed to it; it's a matter between a couple, don't drag others into it."

I didn't say a word.

People who take the wrong side aren't necessarily bad.

Many are just too lazy to verify the facts.

Whoever speaks first, whoever is the loudest, seems like the truth.

At noon, Martha posted a photo in the group chat.

The photo was a housing agreement.

In the spot for the Party A signature, it was written "Chloe."

Party B was Mr. Henderson.

The stay duration was three months.

The compensation fee was two thousand per month.

There was another clause.

Party B is responsible for the preliminary renovation of Party A's marital home, and Party A agrees to let Party B stay temporarily.

When I saw the words "marital home," I felt a wave of nausea in my stomach.

Someone in the group said: "There's an agreement, so it's not trespassing."

Martha replied: "The property management also registered them based on the agreement."

Mrs. Henderson followed up immediately: "We didn't take advantage of a single cent, and we even helped her look after the house. Now she's biting back."

Mr. Henderson also sent a voice message.

"I, Mr. Henderson, have lived in this complex for ten years; I wouldn't take advantage of a young girl. The agreement is in black and white. If Chloe wants to kick us out, fine, but first compensate us for the renovation losses."

I stared at that agreement.

The signature did look like mine.

But I didn't sign it.

The date was the day after I left.

That day, I was in the training classroom in the provincial capital; I had sign-ins and photos from morning till night.

I saved the photo of the agreement.

I sent it to Julia.

Julia asked: "Have you signed anything for Liam recently?"

"Wedding planning contracts, hotel booking forms, and confirmation forms for wedding photos."

"What about a copy of your ID?"

"I gave him one. The wedding planners said they needed it."

Julia sent a line.

"He can't escape this."

I sat in the corner of the training classroom, the sound of others turning pages in my ears.

In that second, I didn't cry.

There was only a cold clarity.

The most expensive thing in love isn't breaking up.

It's when you finally admit that the person beside you will use your bottom line as a favor to others.

In the afternoon, I sent my first public message in the neighborhood group chat.

"I, Chloe, have never signed a housing agreement with Mr. Henderson, nor did I authorize Liam to dispose of my property. I ask Mr. Henderson, Mrs. Henderson, and Martha to explain in the group chat the location where the agreement was signed, who was present, and the method and proof of payment for the compensation fee."

The group went silent instantly.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Henderson replied.

"Paid in cash."

I asked: "To whom?"

He said: "To your fiancé."

I continued to ask: "Is Liam the property owner?"

No one replied.

Liam called quickly.

This time I picked up.

He started by saying: "Why are you forcing me like this in the group chat?"

My voice was flat.

"Mr. Henderson says the compensation fee was given to you."

"He's talking nonsense."

"Then clarify it in the group chat."

There was the sound of furniture scraping on the other end of the line.

"Chloe, don't blow this out of proportion. I did this for our future. Mr. Henderson promised to help us find cheap laborers to renovate the house, which would save us a lot of money."

I asked: "Who gave you the right to use my house as a favor?"

He didn't speak.

I asked again: "Liam, did you take the things in my bedroom drawer?"

He immediately raised his voice.

"Don't pin false accusations on me! Why would I take your things?"

This sentence came too quickly.

So fast it was like he had rehearsed it.

I didn't continue to press him.

Because I knew, I wouldn't get the truth out of him now.

I only said: "Remember what you said today."

Then I hung up.

Chapter 6

That night, I staged a small counterattack.

I organized the lawyer’s letter receipt, the abnormal door lock logs, and the screenshots of Sarah’s post before it was withdrawn into a single long image.

I posted it in the neighborhood group chat.

I didn’t insult anyone.

I didn’t explain the status of my relationship.

I just wrote one sentence:

"Having a house doesn't mean whoever moves in is in the right."

The wind in the group chat shifted for the first time.

Someone said: "If the owner didn't agree, this is indeed inappropriate."

Others asked Martha: "Does property management have written authorization from the owner for opening the door?"

Martha remained silent for a long time.

Finally, she sent one sentence:

"The specific situation is still being verified."

Mr. Henderson didn't speak again.

At 1:00 AM, he sent me a private message.

"Chloe, don't think you can scare people by finding a lawyer. The agreement is in my hands, and I’m staying in this house. If you come back to make trouble, I’ll make sure you can’t even get through the door."

I took a screenshot of this message and saved it.

Outside the window, it was raining in the city.

My face was reflected in the glass.

Very pale, and very still.

I finally decided to move up the leave date for my training.

Not to start a fight.

But to go back and close the net.

The return ticket was booked for Friday afternoon.

On Thursday night, Liam suddenly arrived in the provincial capital.

He hadn’t mentioned it beforehand.

When I finished class at 9:00 PM and walked out of the training building, I saw him standing under a streetlight.

He was holding a cup of hot soy milk in his hand.

I used to think this was considerate.

Now, it just felt like an eyesore.

He walked over, his tone softening.

"Chloe, let's talk."

I didn't take the soy milk.

"Speak."

He glanced at the people passing by.

"Let's find a place."

"No need."

The gentleness on his face cracked a little.

"Do you have to be like this?"

I looked at him.

"Did you come to the capital to talk about our relationship, or about the house?"

He was silent.

The answer was already in that silence.

We stood at the entrance of the building.

The duty teacher's office light was on.

He lowered his voice.

"I’ve already promised Mr. Henderson. If you call the police now, everyone will look bad."

"Whoever made the promise can be the one who looks bad."

"Chloe, marriage isn't something that only involves you."

He took a deep breath.

"My parents have already told our relatives that the house is ours. Mr. Henderson’s family moving in is just to help us check the renovation plans. If you blow this out of proportion, where do my parents put their faces?"