"Perfect," I said. "You can Uber home." "You're evil." "I'm practical."
She hung up after a string of insults that sounded more like a toddler tantrum than an adult meltdown. I got my car back that evening, parked it behind the house this time, locked everything twice.
For about five hours, things were peaceful again. Then, at 9:00 p.m., came the pounding. Three hits on the front door, loud enough to shake the frame. I looked at the security feed. Landon and two of his buddies, looking like the discount version of a moving crew.
I hit the speaker. "Can I help you?" Landon yelled, "We're here to get Minerva's furniture. She said you're holding her stuff hostage." I almost laughed.
"What furniture?" "The living room set, the coffee machine, the TV." "Landon, buddy, every single thing in this house was bought by me. I've got receipts for all of it. You can leave before I call the cops, or you can wait here and meet them personally."
He pointed at the camera. "You can't just lock her out and keep everything." "Sure I can. I own it. You want to see the bills? Or should I print them out for your next tantrum?"
That got him red. He stepped closer. "You think you're funny?" "A little," I said. "You're standing on a porch threatening a guy whose ex cheated on him with you. You tell me who looks dumb right now."
His friends started whispering, and I could see one of them eyeing the side of the house. That's when I decided to turn things up. I grabbed my phone, dialed 911, and put it on speaker. "Hi. Yes, this is Patrick. I have three men on my property trying to take items that don't belong to them.
Yes, I have security cameras recording."
Landon started yelling, "We're not stealing anything. We're just getting her stuff." The dispatcher said calmly, "Sir, please step away from the property. Officers are on the way." They didn't listen.
One of his friends actually went around the side and tried the back door. The motion lights blasted on like a stage spotlight. He froze, deer in headlights. I yelled, "Try it again and you'll be on YouTube by morning." Two police cars showed up so fast it was like they teleported.
Blue and red lights flashed across the driveway. The officers jumped out, hands on their belts. One cop asked, "What's going on here?" Landon blurted, "He's stealing my fiance's stuff." The officer looked at me. "You got proof this is your house?"
I handed over my ID, mortgage statement, and receipts for half the things in sight. "Everything's mine. They showed up uninvited, tried to enter through the back." The cop turned to Landon. "Is that true?"
He tried to spin it, mumbling about misunderstandings, but the other officer pointed at the security camera on the porch. "Sir, we can pull footage. Want us to?" That shut him up. They checked my footage right there on my phone, clear as day, one of his buddies jiggling the back door handle.
The officer radioed something in, then turned to me. "Do you want to press charges for attempted break-in?" I looked at Landon, who was already pale. "Yes." One friend got cuffed on the spot.
The other two got citations and strict trespass warnings. The officers told them if they came back, they'd go straight to jail. Landon started yelling about lawyers, but the cops told him to calm down or they'd add disorderly conduct to the list. He shut up fast. Before he left, he turned to me.
"You're going to regret this. She's suing you for everything."
I just smiled. "Can't wait. I'll bring popcorn." The patrol car pulled away, taking his friend with it. I stood there under the porch light, watching the whole circus fade into the dark.
Once they were gone, I filed a full report and emailed the security footage to my lawyer, just in case. By midnight, word had already started spreading. A mutual friend texted, "Did Landon really try to break into your house?" I sent back, "Yep. Cameras don't lie."
She replied with a single line that summed up the entire week. "Guess karma's faster than Wi-Fi."
That line was still echoing in my head when my phone buzzed again the next morning. Unknown number. "Patrick?" A woman's voice said. "This is Doris, Minerva's mother."
Of course it was. "I need to hear your side," she said, voice tight and formal. "Minerva's devastated. She says you humiliated her and called the police for no reason." "Sure," I said. "You free to meet?"
That caught her off guard. "You actually want to talk?" "Why not? Bring an open mind. I'll bring proof."
We met at a cafe downtown that afternoon. She was already there, sitting stiffly with her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn't touched. The second she saw me, she tried a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for coming," she said. "No problem."
I put a folder on the table. "I brought receipts." Her eyebrows twitched. "Receipts?" I opened the folder and slid a few papers across. "Mortgage statements, utility bills, bank transfers."
Then screenshots of texts from Minerva asking for money, saying she loved me, sending heart emojis, dated four days before the announcement. Doris scanned them, lips pressing tighter every second. "She told us you two were separated," she muttered, "said that you'd been controlling and unstable." "Right," I said. "Apparently I'm so unstable I still paid her bills and cooked dinner the night she announced she was engaged."
"She said you abused her emotionally," she whispered, almost to herself. "Ask the cops who were here that night," I said calmly. "They told her to leave after she admitted she was engaged to another guy."
I didn't even raise my voice. For a long minute, she didn't speak. Then she sighed and set the papers down. "I knew she was lying about something. She's always been like this, since she was a teenager. She lies when she's scared or when she wants something."
I didn't answer, just let her talk. "When she was 16," Doris continued, "she dated two boys at once, told each one the other was her cousin. We grounded her for a week, and she cried until her father gave in. He always gave in. We both did."
She rubbed her temples. "We made her believe she could twist reality and people would adjust." I stayed quiet. There wasn't anything to add. Finally, she reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope.