Keep Scratching My Car, I'll Keep Leveling Up

I tore off the note, turned around, and headed downstairs to the property management office. "I want to pull up the hallway surveillance footage and find out who stuck the note on my door."

The receptionist rolled her eyes. "The hallway cameras aren't under our control. They've been broken for two months, and we have no money to fix them. You did something shameful yourself, and now you're afraid of people leaving notes on your door?"

"Is this how your management team treats residents?" I asked.

She replied, "We only provide good service to normal residents. For someone like you who's ruining the environment of this complex, we're already being generous by not throwing you out."

Two residents waiting for the elevator nearby glanced over, covering their mouths as they whispered to each other.

"So, that's her?"

"She looks like a total slut. Serves her right."

Not a single person stepped forward to say anything. I looked at the employee badge on the receptionist's chest and took out my phone to snap a picture.

The receptionist sprang to her feet and pointed at me. "What are you doing? That violates my privacy!"

I ignored her and walked out of the lobby.

…

At 2:00 am, I sat on the living room floor with a black notebook spread open in front of me. The pages were filled with handwritten timelines, badge numbers, incidents, and evidence references. The list had already reached item 37.

I picked up a separate encrypted phone and dialed a number. It barely rang before someone answered.

"Ms. Stanton, do we need to step in early?" the person on the other end asked.

My gaze fell on Dexter's name in the notebook as I replied, "Wait two more days."

…

Dexter leaned against the guard booth window and let out a wolf whistle before raising his phone and snapping a series of photos of my back. "Hey, the beauty of the neighborhood is wearing a pretty short skirt today."

He had already added vulgar captions to the photo of me bending over to change my tire in the underground parking lot. "Free trial. 150 dollars for the night."

The photo quickly spread beyond the residents' group chat to the secondhand trading groups of several nearby complexes. My phone number was exposed, and I received hundreds of harassing text messages within a single day.

"Hey, gorgeous, how much for one night?"

"Add me on WhatsApp. I'm great in bed."

I took screenshots of each number and saved them to my evidence folder. Just as I reached the entrance to the stairwell, three older women stepped in front of me and blocked my path. The heavyset woman in front held a dirty mop across the stairway, completely blocking the way.

She said, "You shameless thing! Do you know my grandson lives here? A filthy woman like you struts around the hallway every day. What if you lead my grandson astray? Get out of here right now!"

I lowered my head and turned sideways, trying to squeeze through the gap beside them.

Another woman with permed hair grabbed my collar, her nails digging hard into my neck. "Where do you think you're going?"

With a sharp rip, the collar of my silk blouse tore open. All three women immediately looked at me with disgust. "Who are you trying to seduce dressed like that?"

I stared at them coldly. "Let go."

The woman with permed hair flinched under my gaze and instinctively released her grip. I smoothed down my torn collar and headed upstairs in my heels. A wave of curses poured out from behind me.

…

Over the next three days, the harassment escalated on every front.

Someone took my food delivery from my doorstep and threw it into the food waste bin along with the packaging. Someone else violently tore open my packages, rummaged through my belongings, and scattered everything across the hallway.

The valve on my water meter box was deliberately shut off. I turned it back on, but someone shut it off again the next day.

At 1:00 am, I was reviewing quarterly financial statements when someone suddenly started pounding on my front door. Fists slammed against it with deafening force.

"Open up! Open this damn door!"

Outside the door, Dexter was shouting drunkenly while another security guard laughed beside him.

Dexter continued, "Weren't you acting tough before? Why are you scared to open the door now? Come out and have a few drinks with us! Stop acting so innocent. I'm gonna see what you're wearing under those clothes today!"

The pounding went on for 15 minutes. The neighbor's cat across the hall shrieked in terror inside their apartment, but not a single door opened the entire time.

I called the police. Ten minutes later, a police officer arrived.

Dexter immediately changed his tune, nodding and pleading as he held out a cigarette. "Officer, this is all just a misunderstanding."

Jim appeared out of nowhere and produced a statement he had prepared in advance, stamped with the property management's official seal. "Officer, this resident previously attacked one of our security guards with a wrench.

"She seems mentally unstable and often starts hallucinating in the middle of the night. My brother-in-law was worried something might happen to her, so he came to check on her."

The officer glanced at my torn collar, then at Jim's earnest expression. "This is just a dispute between neighbors. It's late at night, so both of you should calm down and take a step back."

Right then, I took out my dashcam's memory card and handed it to the officer. "There's footage on here of him harassing me over an extended period."

Dexter's expression shifted in an instant.