Chapter 4When My Mother-in-Law Destroyed My Deed, I Made Her Regret It

Early the next morning, I gathered a small crew and returned to Oak Hollow Estates just as Hilda was out scavenging.

Buck tried to block our way, but seeing the muscle I brought, he quickly stepped aside, muttering nervously.

Reaching the door, I instructed the team, “Break it open.”

The stench hit us immediately as the door opened, revealing an avalanche of trash—cans, cardboard, foam boxes, and unwashed takeout containers piled from floor to ceiling.

I gagged and pinched my nose. “Clear it all out,” I ordered. Then, with a smirk, I added, “Carefully. Stack it all neatly by the garbage bins.”

The hired team, worth every penny, tackled the job with professionalism, unaffected by the rancid smell. As they worked, Buck stepped back and whispered into his phone, probably summoning his mother.

By the time Hilda arrived, clutching her oversized sack, half of her “collection” was gone.

“Stop! Put it all back!” she shrieked, lunging forward. But one of the crewmen casually lifted her by the collar and set her aside.

Sputtering with rage, she spotted me, screeching, “You little hussy! I’ll scratch your eyes out!”

She was back at it again, her claws out. Another crew member lifted her and set her down in a corner, out of reach.

I casually blew on my fingernails, glancing at the movers. “Hurry up and clear this place. I want the locks changed.”

Fuming, Hilda screamed at her son, “Call your uncle! Now!”

Amused, I watched as Buck dialed Clyde Forsythe, the property manager. I was curious to see the man who had helped turn my house into a squatters’ paradise.