But Diane and Kyle had no lease, no ownership rights, and no permission from the property’s legal owner.

Diane grabbed the phone.

“You can’t do this to family!”

“You slapped the owner of the house,” I said. “Then told her to leave.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Ask the deputy holding the trust documents.”

Silence.

Then Kyle shouted in the background, “They’re towing my bike!”

“It’s blocking a contracted work area,” I replied. “The garage is being secured.”

Eric lowered his voice. “Please come home. We can fix this.”

I looked through Maya’s office window at the sunrise.

“No,” I said. “Now we fix it properly.”

By noon, Diane and Kyle stood on the sidewalk beside their luggage, furious and humiliated.

I arrived with Maya.

Diane rushed toward me until a deputy stepped between us.

“You evil little witch,” she hissed. “You planned this.”

“No,” I said. “You planned it. I documented it.”

Eric came down the steps looking exhausted. “Can we talk inside?”

“We can talk here.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“You moved two people into my house behind my back. Your mother struck me. You watched. Then you told me to leave. But you’re embarrassed?”

Kyle stopped smirking.

Maya handed Eric a folder.