Freeloading Intern Forgot I Owned the Place

There was also a young woman behind Felix's parents. Her hair was dyed blonde, and a cigarette was dangling from her lips.

"Look, Mom, Dad. Don't you think this is an apartment big enough for everyone? It's got a wonderful view of the lake too, and everything is furnished with designer brands and renovations. I worked really hard to make this all possible!"

Felix's smug voice came in through the surveillance video.

His mother, Iris Osborn, immediately pounced on the leather couch, stomping all over it with her outdoor shoes still on.

"This is great! You're such a capable son, Felix! You're a hundred times better than old Sam's useless son next door!"

Meanwhile, his father, Alex Madden, clicked his tongue in amazement while smoking a cigarette. "This apartment is really something, and the lakeview is beautiful. It's better than seeing it on TV. This was a good purchase, son! Your mom and I will be coming here often next time to enjoy the view!"

As for Felix's younger sister, Fiona Madden, she rushed straight into my study, ripped off the precious contemporary painting hanging on my wall, and threw it onto the floor.

"This is rubbish! You know that I don't like pretentious junk like that! You'd better turn this room into my gaming room the next time I come here! I want all the latest gaming equipment!"

Then, she pulled open all of my drawers and shelves and smashed all of my treasured rare books and personal laptop onto the floor.

Felix just stood to the side without stopping her. He even chuckled and said, "Go ahead and trash anything you don't like. I'm going to replace them all with better ones next time anyway. This trash doesn't all amount to much."

I stared at the surveillance video on my phone, gripping it so hard that my knuckles turned white.

I had spent more than 100,000 dollars on that contemporary painting, and the laptop that she'd smashed contained classified information on the company's core project. Everything they threw carelessly to the floor was equivalent to years and years of my hard work.

I trembled with anger, wanting nothing more than to rush back home and tear their faces apart. However, I couldn't figure out how they'd managed to get their hands on my address or my front door passcode.

I had deliberately come up with a unique passcode for that door, combining both Mom's and Dad's birthdays and the anniversary of my first day of work in the IT industry. It was highly personal and extremely private, and I'd only ever mentioned it to Mom, Dad, and my younger sister, Carrie Aguilar.

Nobody at the office could have possibly found out about it, let alone an intern who had barely worked there for three months and whose interactions with me were only work-related.

Just then, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Carl? Why aren't you resting? Why are you glaring at your phone like it did something bad to you? What happened?"

I turned around and saw Mom coming up to me with a warm glass of milk, looking at me with worry and gentle concern.

She handed me the glass of milk and patted me lightly on the shoulder.

"You finally got a break from work to come home, and you even drove all day to be here. Why the long face? Is someone bullying you at work?"

I held the warm glass tightly in my hands and felt my nose tingle. I felt the anger in me subside at once.

"It's nothing. It's just something minor about work, but it's not worth getting angry over. It's been a while since I've been home, and I'm not going to let anything upsetting ruin my mood."

Then, I slid my phone back onto the coffee table, completely ignoring the distressing footage on the screen.

I would just swallow my anger for now and spend this Thanksgiving weekend peacefully with Mom.

Didn't Felix want to show off and enjoy his life in my luxury apartment for free? Well, I would let him be smug and gloat about it for a few days, then. And then, I would teach him a lesson for his arrogance!

I inhaled deeply and texted my building management.

"Keep an eye on them. And send me a copy of the security footage from the hallway, the entrance, and the elevators. But don't interfere with whatever they're doing in my apartment, and report any issues to me immediately."

Less than an hour later, I saw that Felix had just posted a few photos on his Instagram account.

He'd posted a total of nine photos, all of them taken from my apartment—the floor-to-ceiling windows with the lake view, the master bedroom, the walk-in closet, and the bookshelves in my study. Yet, he neatly avoided showing any of my personal belongings in each photo.

The caption read, "Financial independence in my early 20s has never felt better. I love enjoying my comfortable and carefree Thanksgiving weekend at home by myself."