What's Wrong With This Pregnant Woman?!

The two of them still tried to argue.

"We're neighbors; what's wrong with asking for help? It's not like we don't have a car. This young girl is just being petty!"

She even had the audacity to complain about me! I had never met anyone so shameless.

Even the police could not take it anymore. "Enough! Stop twisting things around. If you keep this up, we'll charge you with provoking trouble. Don't think that being pregnant exempts you from detention. If this young woman decides to press charges after you give birth, you can still end up in jail."

After they heard that legal explanation, they panicked. When they realized they would have to apologize to me, the pregnant neighbor did so reluctantly.

I took advantage of the situation and glanced at their names—Peter Jeffords and Lisa Diaz. Knowing their names would come in handy later.

With the police backing me up, they both got a thorough scolding. When Lisa walked out, she shot me a glare.

"Cindy, you've gone too far!"

My friend said, "I've seen shameless people, but none this shameless. Even beggars know how to say a few kind words!"

She turned to Peter. "And you! What are you staring at? You won't drive your wife but expect others to do it for you? Lucky we're women. If we were men, other people might think she was carrying our kid!"

Her sharp tongue left them both fuming, faces dark as iron. I let out a cold laugh, got into my car, and drove off, leaving a trail of exhaust behind.

On the way, my friend said, "These two are troublemakers. You should think about selling your car."

"My office is so far away! If I rely on the subway, it'll take me an hour each way."

"Then, move. You're renting anyway. Find a place closer to work. And with your income, why not consider buying a small apartment? At least you'll be far from these pests!"

She had a point, but buying a place was not something I could do on a whim.

I sighed. "I'll think about it later."

After that morning's drama, I figured the couple would not dare bother me again.

That evening, I returned to work to cancel my leave. When I got home, things were finally peaceful.

However, I never imagined that the next morning, as I went downstairs, I would find a scratch running along the back of my car. It was deep enough to expose the primer and extended to the side door.

I was livid.

Lisa happened to come downstairs and saw the state of my car. She sneered, "Oh, my! What happened? How did your car end up like that?

"Cindy, why do you look so upset?"

I immediately pulled out my phone and called the police. Then, I notified the property management to check the surveillance footage.

As luck would have it, the cameras in my area were down for maintenance that week.

How convenient.

"Why wasn't this announced in the group chat?" I asked.

The staff looked apologetic. "We posted a paper notice downstairs, but it seemed like someone tore it down."

I knew that even if I sued the property management for negligence, it would go nowhere.

I could only report it to my insurance and arrange for repairs.

I had to take a taxi to work that day, adding to my already chaotic morning. By then, I seriously considered selling my car and looking for a new apartment.

Later that night, as I browsed for second-hand apartments on my phone, my surveillance system alerted me that someone was near my door.

When I opened the feed, I saw Lisa lurking outside my apartment. A few seconds later, she walked away.

Zooming in, I saw something that made my blood boil.

Lisa was holding a bottle of glue and squeezing it into my lock!