Chapter 4

Uncle Edward, on the other hand, didn’t give up harassing me. When I blocked his calls, he switched to sending text messages, starting with ridiculous demands and eventually escalating to threats. I ignored it all.

He was getting increasingly desperate when he couldn’t reach me.

As for Mr. Daniels, after that phone call, he was quiet for a few days. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t let things go so easily.

Once someone’s greed grows, it’s not easy to shrink it back down.

Sure enough, a few days later, I got a notice from the property management about a meeting regarding the demolition.

I hadn’t been back to the house in a while, and with the thought of it being torn down soon, I figured I’d stop by for a final look. I also intended to tell Mr. Daniels and his family to pack up and leave.

Whether or not the demolition went through, after what Mr. Daniels said to me on the phone, he was no longer welcome there.

The whole situation reminded me of Aesop’s fable, The Farmer and the Snake.

When I arrived at the meeting, I ran into Mr. Daniels.

He was mingling with other residents, looking much more like the homeowner than I did.

The moment he saw me, his eyes flashed with unease, and he quickly looked away, pretending not to notice me.

It wasn’t until the meeting ended that he finally came over.

“Lily, since you’re here, why don’t you come by the house for a bit?” he asked, smiling warmly. A completely different demeanor from when he ignored me earlier.

“Sure,” I said with a smile of my own. “Might as well see what my house looks like now.”

His face immediately darkened, and a flash of something cold crossed his eyes.

I followed him upstairs. The building wasn’t in bad shape—it had been well-constructed back in the day, no corners cut. It just hadn’t kept up with the rapid pace of urban development. Still, it was perfectly livable.

When we entered the apartment, his wife and son were both home.

It was a Wednesday—don’t they work?

I figured they were all waiting for the demolition payout to finally make their big break.

His wife, Mrs. Janet Daniels, had a flat, unremarkable face and a pair of sharp, beady eyes. The moment I stepped inside, she was all smiles, rushing to take my bag and coat.

Their son, Ryan Daniels, was 30 years old, 5'7", and easily over 250 pounds. His face was so bloated with fat that his features were barely distinguishable.

His half-closed eyes kept darting over me, his gaze sticky and unsettling.

They kept their cool, chatting with me and trying to be hospitable, inviting me to stay for dinner. But the entire time, they never once mentioned the demolition.

I had no interest in their hospitality, so I decided to get straight to the point.

“Mr. Daniels, Mrs. Daniels, I’m here to tell you that you need to move out in the next few days. I’ve given you notice already, and as I said before, you don’t have to worry about this year’s rent.”

The moment I finished speaking, their faces changed.

Mrs. Daniels, who had been all smiles, suddenly turned hostile. “What gives you the right to kick us out? We’ve lived here for over ten years. This house is ours now. You can’t make us leave.”

Mr. Daniels, in contrast, forced a smile and tried to calm the situation. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The demolition is still a ways off. No need to rush, right? Let’s not create any unnecessary conflict over this, Lily.”

As he spoke, he motioned for me to sit down, pouring a glass of orange soda and handing it to me.

I took a sip.

Within minutes, the world started spinning, and everything went black.

Mr. Daniels had drugged the soda.