I had chosen to remediate the violation immediately by hiring a licensed crew to tear it down and restore the exterior to its original state.

Brent grabbed the laminated paper from the foreman, took one look at it, and threw it onto the wet driveway.

He turned back to the front door and kicked it with his leather loafer.

On the kitchen island of Molly’s suburban home, my phone began to vibrate.

The screen lit up with Brent’s name and picture.

Molly stood next to the stove, holding a warm mug of tea, her eyes fixed on my face.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly.

I nodded, picking up the phone.

I swiped the screen and put the call on speakerphone.

“Where are you?” Brent screamed, his voice loud enough to fill the quiet kitchen.

“I am in a safe place, Brent,” I said, keeping my voice level and calm.

“What is going on at the house?” he roared. “There are men tearing up my deck! The locks are changed! My mother and sister are freezing on the porch!”