Part 2
Three days later, Lauren posted a photo of movers outside her new house in the family group chat.
Dreams really do come true.
Then another message followed.
Some people just dream too small.
I muted the chat.
That afternoon, my attorney, Daniel Cho, sat across from me at the marble island in my new kitchen while contractors finished installing shelves in my study.
Through the window, I could see Lauren directing movers next door.
Daniel glanced toward her property.
“They still don’t know?”
“No.”
He opened a folder.
“Then they also don’t know their closing attorney missed something important.”
I already knew.
For fifteen years, the previous owner of Lauren’s house had used the rear lane for deliveries, landscapers, and access to the detached garage.
But there’d never been an easement.
It was a personal, nontransferable license granted by my property’s former owner.
When Lauren bought the house, that permission expired.
She still had a narrow front driveway.
But large vehicles couldn’t reach the garage without crossing my land.
I had no intention of objecting to normal neighborly access.
Then Lauren made it personal.
The next morning, chainsaws woke me.
I ran outside.
A landscaping crew stood in my side yard.
Three young dogwood trees already lay on the grass.
“What are you doing?”
The foreman pointed toward Lauren.
“She said this strip belonged to her family.”
Lauren stood by her pool fence in designer sunglasses.
“You told them to cut my trees?”
She lowered her glasses.
“Your trees?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
“Claire, you rent. Stop acting territorial because you’re jealous.”
Mason appeared carrying coffee.
“This obsession with our house is getting creepy.”
I stared at him.
“Who told you I rent?”
“Mom,” Lauren replied. “She said you moved somewhere nearby. Probably so you could stare at my place.”
I photographed every stump.
Then called the landscaping company and told them to get off my property immediately.
Lauren crossed her arms.
“Or what?”
I looked straight at her.
“You’ll find out.”
That night, Dad called.
“You embarrassed your sister.”
“She destroyed property.”
“She said you’re threatening to block their access road.”
“I’m protecting what I own.”
Dad sighed.
“This is why people find you difficult, Claire. Everything becomes a competition.”
I looked around my living room—my fireplace, my bookshelves, my keys beside a deed bearing my name.
“No,” I said softly. “Only when someone mistakes my patience for permission.”
Two days later, Lauren held a housewarming party.
My parents came.
Mason’s parents came.
Cousins, coworkers, and neighbors filled the backyard.
At six-thirty, Lauren texted me.
You should come. It might help you accept reality.
I changed into a black dress, grabbed Daniel’s folder, and walked outside.
I didn’t enter through Lauren’s front gate.
I crossed my own garden.
Then walked straight into her party from the property next door.
