Chapter 4Paid, Evicted, Stripped Bare

Early Saturday morning, my doorbell rang.

It was Chloe, carrying bags of snacks. The moment she stepped inside and saw the sea of cardboard boxes, her eyes welled up.

“Brian, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” She dropped the bags and gave me a tight hug.

I patted her back. “It’s okay. Out with the old, in with the new.”

She pulled away, pacing the room angrily. “That landlord is a piece of work! No, I can’t let this go. I’m going to call and curse him out right now!”

“Don’t,” I stopped her. “Save your energy.”

Just then, the doorbell rang again.

I opened the door to find three men in blue work uniforms. The man in front asked politely, “Are you Mr. Brian? We’re from the disassembly service.”

“That’s me. Come on in.”

Chloe stared, dumbfounded, as the three burly men walked in with their toolboxes.

“Brian, you… you hired movers? Isn’t it a bit early?”

I didn’t say anything, just gave the lead worker a nod.

He walked over to the massive wardrobe in the living room and pulled out a power drill and a screwdriver.

BZZZZZZT—

The sound of the drill was deafening in the quiet room.

Chloe’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Brian! What are you doing? You’re taking the wardrobe apart?”

“I bought it. Why wouldn’t I take it with me?” I asked calmly.

“But—but it’s custom-built! It’ll be such a pain to reassemble!”

“A pain,” I said, “is better than leaving it for someone like him.”

The workers were efficient. In less than half an hour, the seemingly indestructible wardrobe had been broken down into a neat stack of labeled wooden panels against the wall.

Next came the bookshelf, the curtain rods, the soundproof door I had installed myself.

Everything I had added, everything that could be moved, was methodically disassembled and packed.

My phone vibrated.

A text from Mr. Finch.

“Brian, how’s the move going? Hurry it up. My son and his fiancée are waiting to get in and take measurements for the renovation.”

The message oozed with impatience and smug satisfaction.

I glanced at it, didn’t reply, and put my phone on silent.

I wasn’t going to let any garbage disturb my focus.

Chloe stood by, her expression shifting from shock to contemplation, and finally, to dawning realization.

She looked at me as I directed the workers and said quietly, “Brian, for a second there, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

I turned to look at her.

She quickly added, “But damn, this is satisfying!”

A huge grin spread across her face. She even ran over to offer the workers bottles of water.

“Thank you for your hard work, guys! Take your time, be careful! These are our treasures!”

Seeing her in full “partner-in-crime” mode, the tension that had been gripping me for days finally eased a little.

It seemed I wasn’t fighting this war alone after all.

The disassembled items were professionally wrapped and loaded into a large truck. As it drove away, Chloe waved enthusiastically, as if seeing off a general heading into a great battle.

I knew this was just the prelude.

The main event was yet to come.