Marissa held out the folder as if answering with weight rather than content. "Stonebridge Ridge has taken lawful possession due to your longstanding nonpayment of assessments, maintenance charges, legal fees, access fees, and road obligations. You were given ample notice."
Duncan did not take the folder immediately. "This warehouse has never belonged to your association."
"That is your interpretation."
"No," he said. "That is the county plat."
Marissa's smile tightened. "You have been sent multiple notices. You chose not to respond responsibly."
"I responded by certified mail three times. I sent you a survey, a title report, and the recorded boundary description. Your jurisdiction ends about one hundred forty feet west of my fence."
"The access easement changes that."
"There is no access easement."
"There is now."
That sentence told Duncan more than she intended. He looked at her for a moment, not because he was intimidated by the certainty in her voice, but because he was deciding how much to say in a place where every word might matter later.
"Gather your people," he said. "Remove everything you brought in. Restore the lock. Leave the property."
Marissa gave a small laugh. "You do not get to issue orders on association property."
"I am not arguing with you about ownership in my loading bay. I am telling you that you have been informed the property is privately owned and that you do not have consent to remain."
The larger security contractor stepped forward. Duncan had noticed him immediately on arrival, not only because of his size but because of the way he carried it. He was in his early forties, thick neck, close-shaved head, heavy boots, an old scar pulling the left corner of his mouth slightly downward. His jacket had a patch for Barlo Protective Services, though the lettering looked newer than the jacket itself.
"Mr. Vale," Marissa said, "this is Trent Barlo. His team is here to maintain order while the transition takes place."
"There is no transition."
Trent folded his arms. "Lady told you to leave."
Duncan looked at him. "She is not the property owner."
"Got documents saying otherwise."
"Then call the county and have them verify them."
Trent took a step closer. "Or you can save everybody time and get in your truck."
Duncan did not move. Years of law enforcement work had trained him to read escalation before it became physical. Trent's stance had changed. Weight forward.
Chin down. Hands no longer crossed but loose at his sides. The second guard, younger and visibly less certain, shifted nearer the loading door but did not close the distance.
"Mr. Barlo," Duncan said evenly, "I am placing you on notice that I own this property and that I do not consent to your presence here. If you touch me after that warning, you are not resolving a civil dispute. You are creating a new problem."
"Threatening me?"
"No. Clarifying the situation."