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The Neighbor From Hell My Sweet Revenge Novel Cover

The Neighbor From Hell My Sweet Revenge

For three years, Mrs. Lawrence piggybacked on her neighbor's internet without contributing a cent. Instead of showing gratitude, she violently demands a gigabit upgrade, blaming her neighbor for risking her son's Ivy League future. When she begins kicking the front door and hurling insults, the line is finally crossed. Rather than arguing, the homeowner quietly disables the router, changes the Wi-Fi network name to a harsh warning, and alerts the utility company to the illegal power lines spliced outside her window.
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Chapter 4

Overnight, everyone's target shifted—from me to Mrs. Lawrence.

She'd obviously seen the video too. She panicked.

Voice messages flooded the group chat, her pitch climbing with each one.

"It wasn't me! That wasn't me!" "It's fake! That Lin guy set me up!" "Don't believe him! He's just a petty villain!"

I ignored her dying struggle.

Instead, I sent another recording.

Everything she and her son had said the day the power company came—how they'd cursed me out at my own door.

"Bottom of society." "Trash." "Mud." Those filthy, unbearable words echoed through the group chat.

And Josh's line—"Once I get into Harvard, I won't ever have to be neighbors with this kind of trash again"—set the whole crowd ablaze.

"Oh my god, the 'future Harvard genius' really said that?" "That level of character... getting into Harvard? Don't embarrass Harvard." "Too scary. He always looks so refined. Who knew he was this kind of person."

"Mrs. Lawrence's parenting is really something else."

Public opinion reversed completely.

However much they'd sympathized with her before—that was how much they despised her now.

She got slammed in the group chat until she had nothing left to say.

Eventually Mr. Lambert from property management stepped in to smooth things over and forcibly shut it down.

I figured after this public execution, she'd at least quiet down for a few days.

I was wrong.

I'd underestimated her shamelessness. And I'd overestimated how much public opinion could restrain her.

The next morning, I was getting ready to head out for work.

The moment I opened my door, Mrs. Lawrence and Josh were standing there—along with a few burly men I didn't recognize, blocking my way.

Her eyes were bloodshot. Like a mother wolf about to tear someone apart.

"Lin, you ruined my reputation. This isn't over today!"

Josh stood behind her, his gaze venomous.

"You made it so I can't show my face in this building anymore. Don't think you'll have it easy either!"

One of the burly men stepped forward and jabbed a finger at my nose.

"Kid, I'm telling you—apologize to my sister and my nephew, then pay ten thousand dollars for emotional distress." He cracked his knuckles. "Otherwise, don't even think about walking out of here today."

I looked at the scene in front of me.

My heartbeat steadied.

The dagger was finally showing itself.

From throwing trash—to blocking my door and extorting me outright.

I didn't waste words. I stepped back, closed the door, and locked it from inside.

Then I dialed 911.

"Hello, I'd like to report a crime. Someone is at my door right now, illegally restricting my freedom and attempting to extort me. The address is..."

Outside, Mrs. Lawrence's voice rang out.

"Calling the cops? Go ahead!" She laughed. "You know who my cousin is? I've got people backing me! Let's see who dares get involved!" Her voice turned sharp. "If you don't hand over ten thousand dollars today, just wait to get beaten!"

I leaned against the door and listened.

She thought having a cousin with connections meant she could do whatever she wanted.

Too bad she didn't know—in this world, there are still laws.

Her shouting grew more vile by the minute.

"You coward! If you've got the guts, come out!" "You think hiding inside means you'll be fine? I'm staying right here and wearing you down!"

Josh fanned the flames beside her.

"Mom, stop wasting words on him—just kick the door open!" "When Uncle gets here, we'll see how he dies!"

I pulled out my phone and saved the recording.

Then I opened my work laptop and started handling emails.

Since I couldn't go out, I'd work from home.

The one who should be anxious wasn't me.

About half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

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