Chapter 4

I estimated that his car's battery was about half-full.

I opened the remote app on my phone.

And tapped the "Power Off" button.

On the camera feed, the indicator light on the EV charger died instantly.

His car was now in a state of sudden, forced power interruption mid-charge.

For some electric and hybrid vehicles, a sudden power cut during high-voltage charging can trigger a battery protection lockout, preventing the car from starting or even unlocking.

I went to sleep peacefully.

The next day, I spent the entire day sightseeing.

When I returned to my hotel room that evening, I opened the saved footage.

The show was spectacular.

7:00 AM.

Brandon appeared in the garage dressed in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses.

It looked like he was off to a high-profile blind date or a meeting with a major client.

He opened the car door and got in.

A few minutes later, he climbed out, utterly furious.

He kicked the tires violently.

The car wouldn't start.

He called for a tow truck.

After more than two hours of waiting, the tow truck finally arrived.

He threw the bouquet of roses onto the ground in rage and left with the tow truck.

Watching the footage, I was in a fantastic mood.

That’s what you call instant karma.

I turned the power back on via my phone.

And continued my vacation.

Three days later, I returned to the building.

As soon as I walked into the lobby, I was intercepted by the property manager, Mr. Miller.

Two security guards stood behind him, looking extremely nervous.

"Ms. Carter, you're finally back! Something terrible has happened!"

He handed me a sheet of paper.

I looked at it.

It was a handwritten claim form.

Claimant: Brandon Gable.

Claim Amount: Fifteen thousand dollars.

The reasons were written in messy, aggressive handwriting:

"Because of Lynn Carter's malicious power shutoff, my car's battery management system motherboard was fried. Repair cost: $3,000.

Because the car was broken, I missed an exclusive matchmaking date with a multi-millionaire heiress. Mental distress: $7,000.

Because of the missed date, I was depressed and got into an argument with my boss, resulting in my termination. Lost wages: $5,000.

Total: $15,000."

He also demanded a formal apology and that I transfer the deed of my parking spot to his family as compensation.

When I finished reading, I wasn’t even angry.

I just found it incredibly absurd.

"Mr. Miller, is this some new kind of extortion?"

I flicked the paper.

Mr. Miller wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Ms. Carter, Mrs. Gable is currently lying on the floor in the HOA office. She says if you don't pay up, she'll sue the building and die right there. We are out of options. Look..."

"If she wants to cause a scene in your office, you should call the cops. Why are you coming to me?"

"But she said you flipped the breaker! Ms. Carter, you did go a bit too far this time. Even if it is your electricity, cutting it off suddenly and damaging their car makes you partly liable."

Mr. Miller was clearly trying to play peacemaker.

He wanted to sacrifice my rights to make his own trouble go away.

"It’s my private electric meter. I can turn it on or off whenever I want. He trespassed on my private property and stole my electricity. I haven't even settled that score with him yet."

My tone was cold and firm.

"But..."

"No buts. Go tell her she won't get a single penny. If she has the guts, sue me in court. Also, I will be filing a police report against her son for utility theft immediately."

I turned on my heel and walked away.

Mr. Miller called out behind me, "Ms. Carter, there’s a mediation meeting at 3:00 PM today. Please, you must attend!"

I ignored him and went upstairs.

Once home, I compiled all my evidence.

The past six months of utility bills, the timestamps of every charge.

The security footage of them breaking the lock, dumping trash, and stealing power.

Along with the copy of the previous police report.

At 3:00 PM sharp, I walked into the HOA mediation room.

Before I even entered, I could hear Mildred screaming like a slaughtered pig.

"My poor baby! He's almost thirty and hasn't even found a wife! His whole life has been ruined by that wicked woman!"

I pushed the door open.

Inside sat Sarah from the community mediation board, Mr. Miller, and a few neighbors who had come to watch the drama.

Mildred was sitting on the floor, wailing.

Her son, Brandon, sat next to her with a dark, sullen face, staring at his phone.

Seeing me walk in, Mildred sprang up like a coiled spring, pointing her finger right at my nose.

"You little bitch! You owe my son his wife! You owe him his job!"