A few days later, the neighborhood HOA group chat blew up. Someone launched a charity drive called "Cheer On Our College-Bound Kids," rallying everyone to support the seniors about to take their entrance exams.
Rachel pounced on the opportunity. She posted a sob story so long it could've been a novella.
First came her greatest hits: the struggling widow, the sacrifices she'd made, her brilliant son studying until 2 a.m. every night, destined for an Ivy League, the pride of our whole community.
Then the pivot.
"...But fate is cruel. Recently, we've been tormented by a vicious neighbor. They cut off our internet. They filed malicious reports that got our power shut off."
"My poor boy has to study by candlelight every night. His eyesight is failing."
"I'm just a helpless mother. I'm begging you all—please, talk some sense into that heartless person. Please ask them to stop tormenting us."
She attached a photo of Josh "studying hard" by candlelight. The staging was immaculate: warm yellow glow, furrowed brow, textbooks stacked like a fortress.