While I was at work, my parents, my sister, and her two kids were already hauling boxes into my mountain house. Mom smiled like it was settled. “We all live here now. It’s family property.” They planned their big “move-in day.” I planned something else.

Why are you lying about us? Why would we want your cabin? You’ve always been selfish.

Block.

Another number followed.

You won’t get away with this.

My chest tightened, but I didn’t reply.

I blocked every number until the list of recent blocks stretched longer than my list of contacts.

Around midnight, the cabin went still. I stood, walked to the window, and looked out at the dark silhouette of trees swaying gently in the wind. The cameras’ tiny red lights blinked steadily back at me.

I wasn’t imagining this.

I wasn’t exaggerating.

I wasn’t wrong.

Someone had attempted to break into my home.

And whether or not they admitted it, I knew exactly who it was.

In the morning, over tea, Gloria texted me again.

Heard through the grapevine that a police officer visited your parents’ house. Your mother is furious.

My stomach clenched.

That meant the investigation had reached them. That meant Lydia had been questioned. That meant the line between quietly manipulative and openly dangerous had already been crossed.

I typed back carefully.

Thank you for letting me know. Staying alert.

She sent one last message.

They’re angry because you stood up for yourself. Keep standing.