Our neighbor, Linda Johnson, pushed her way to the front of the crowd and spoke to me earnestly.

"Oh, Emily, just pay them and make this problem go away," she advised. "The poor girl is pregnant. You don't want that kind of bad reputation hanging over your family."

I swiped her hand away.

"This isn't what you think it is, and I'm not signing anything."

Brenda immediately turned toward the camera, her voice shooting up for the livestream.

"Look at her attitude, everyone! She's out here attacking the nice neighbors who are just trying to help! Thank you so much for the galaxy, sir. Keep reporting her account, guys! Hit that follow button and let's keep the pressure on!"

I pulled out my own phone to call the police, but before I could unlock it, Brenda snatched it out of my hand and smashed it against the floor.

The screen shattered on impact.

"You want to call the cops? Not on my watch!" she shrieked.

Ashley scrambled back up from the floor, wrapping her arms tightly around my leg for a second time.

"Ms. Parker, forget the five million dollars!" she wailed. "Just sign the deed to this place over to me so my baby can have a roof over its head, and I'll raise him all on my own! If you don't, I swear I'll throw myself out the window right now!"

I lifted my foot and kicked her aside.

"If you're that desperate to jump, there's a window at the end of the hallway. Don't ruin my carpets."

Brenda lunged forward and delivered a hard shove to my chest. My back slammed against the doorframe, a burst of pain shooting straight through my shoulder.

"Old hag!" she screamed. "How dare you kick a pregnant woman! Keep those gifts coming, guys! Let's get justice for my niece!"

The viewer count was skyrocketing into the tens of thousands.

At some point, several tattooed punks had appeared in the hallway, each one carrying a plastic bucket.

Brenda beckoned them over.

"Paint it!" she demanded.

With a loud splash, thick, metallic-smelling paint completely covered my front door. It dripped down the walls, pooled across the floor, and splattered all over the cuffs of my pants.

"If you don't hand over that deed by tomorrow morning, the next bucket we bring is going to be filled with acid!" Brenda hissed, her eyes wide and menacing as she glared at me.

Linda backed away in fright. The surrounding neighbors immediately started murmuring and pointing their fingers at me in disgust.

"How shameful."

"Look at her, still denying it when things have gone this far."

"She's going to ruin the entire neighborhood."

I swept a cold look over them. "Anyone else want to run their mouth? Because I can easily have the next bucket of paint dumped right on your front door."

The neighbors went dead silent, instantly shuffling backward.

Brenda looked even more pleased with herself as she glanced at me.

"What? You think scaring a bunch of neighbors means you're off the hook? I've got news for you. The internet is already doxxing you as we speak."

I was so taken aback by her audacity that a bitter laugh escaped me.

"Brenda, you keep telling the internet that my son assaulted your niece. Where's your proof?" I questioned.

Ashley froze for a moment before suddenly clutching her stomach and letting out a dramatic groan. "Aunt Brenda, my stomach hurts! I think the stress is affecting the baby!"

Brenda immediately rushed over to support her, her face full of concern.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I've got you. This old hag is going to give us answers today if it's the last thing she does!"

She reached into her bag, pulled out a thick stack of printed documents, and aggressively slapped them right across my face.

The sheets of paper fluttered to the floor.

"You want proof? Here's your proof! Those are the text messages between Ashley and your son, along with proof of the wire transfers. We've got solid evidence. Let's see you try to wiggle out of this one!" said Brenda.

I picked up a page from the floor and saw a printed WhatsApp conversation.

Someone saved as "Mr. Parker" had sent Ashley a barrage of incredibly cheesy and tacky pick-up lines.

"Babe, I'm so in love with you. The second I inherit my mom's assets, we're getting married.

"Babe, my mom is an absolute cheapskate and won't give me a dime. Just hang in there for a bit longer."

Attached were a few screenshots showing wire transfers ranging from thousands to tens of thousands of dollars.

Looking at the poorly edited evidence, the whole situation seemed laughable.

"Do you honestly think you can extort five million dollars from me with this garbage?"

Brenda seized me by the collar.

"Garbage?" she shouted. "This is evidence. If you don't sign over the penthouse today, I'll make sure your name is dragged through the mud until you have nothing left!"

She glared at me. "Ashley already had an amniocentesis done at the clinic. The DNA test results are sitting right inside my bag. There's no escaping this, Emily!"

Summoning every ounce of strength I had in me, I pried her fingers off my collar.

"Fine, I'll wait," I said. "And stay away from me. You smell awful."

Brenda's face flushed red with rage. "You arrogant bitch, how dare you insult me!"

She raised her hand to slap me, but I stepped out of her trajectory and used her momentum to give her wrist a firm shove.

Brenda lost her footing and stumbled backward before landing with a heavy thud straight into the pool of wet paint on the floor.

Ashley immediately let out a piercing shriek. "She's assaulting us! She's trying to kill us!"

Turning to the camera, she sobbed like she had been horribly wronged. "Look at this, everyone! Not only is Emily Parker denying what her son did, but now she's physically attacking my aunt! Keep flooding the chat, everyone! Thank you for the galaxy!"

One of the punks holding the phone started reading the comments aloud.

"One user says call the cops on the witch! And another user says to doxx her, post her address everywhere, and they'll personally ship a funeral wreath to her front door!"

Brenda was throwing a full-blown tantrum on the floor, kicking and screaming in the paint.

The group of thugs instantly crowded around me.

"Alright, lady, you forced our hand," they snarled.

They pulled collapsible batons from their pockets and snapped them open, the sharp metal clicks echoing through the hallway.

I looked at them calmly.

"What's the plan here? Breaking and entering? Aggravated assault?"

The leader spat right onto the floor.

"Cut the crap! Hand over the deed to this place right now, or we're smashing this entire apartment to pieces!"

Brenda scrambled up from the floor, jabbing a finger at my face.

"That's right! Get the deed! Ashley, grab the Quitclaim Deed and make her sign it!" she yelled.

Ashley frantically dug into her bag and whipped out the contract. "Ms. Parker, sign it, and we'll leave you alone."

I didn't even deign to glance at the document. "And if I say no?"

Brenda scoffed. "No? Then you can say goodbye to having peace for the rest of your life! Boys, tear this place apart!"

The thugs swung their batons, violently smashing them against my security door and exterior walls, sending violent crashes echoing throughout the entire hallway.

The neighbors were so frightened that they rushed back into their apartments and slammed their doors shut.

I stood there, watching everything unfold without stopping them.

They could keep smashing things for all I cared.

The harder they smashed, the higher the property damage appraisal would be, and the longer their prison sentences would be.

Ashley held out the contract, putting on a fake, sympathetic act. "Ms. Parker, why are you being so stubborn? It's just an apartment. Your son is incredibly wealthy. He can always make the money back down the road."

I stared at her belly. "Are you sure that kid belongs to my son?"

Ashley's eyes darted away for a second, but she instantly recovered, raising her voice to a defensive screech. "What are you talking about? Of course it's Mr. Parker's baby!"

"Don't you dare try to slander my niece and flip the script on us!" Brenda added.

I smiled. "Is that so? In that case, are you two ready to march right down to a registered notary and perform a DNA test with me right now?"

Brenda planted both hands on her hips. "Didn't you hear what I said? We already did an amniocentesis. Stop trying to deflect, and just sign the deed over to us."

I shook my head. "You really thought you had this all figured out, didn't you? You can't even legally prove who fathered that child, yet you're trying to extort me for money."

Ashley's face went pale with panic.

"Stop slandering me!"

She pulled a lab report from her bag and shoved it in my face. "This is the paternity results for Mr. Parker and the baby. It's right there in black and white! It states that the probability of paternity is 99.9%."

I took the report from her, and when I saw the name "Jason Parker" printed across the page, I couldn't help laughing.

Brenda was visibly creeped out by my reaction, her voice turning sharp as she demanded, "What are you laughing at?"

Ashley hurried to back her up.

"Ms. Parker, you can deny it all you want, but science doesn't lie. That report was issued by a top-tier hospital. It even has the official seal right at the bottom!"

I held up the piece of paper, letting it flutter.

"Issued by a top-tier hospital, you say? You've never even met my son, so what exactly did you use as samples for the test? Do you think I'm too stupid to realize you paid some black-market agency to issue a counterfeit report?"

For a split second, panic flashed across Brenda's face, but she quickly puffed out her chest, forcing a look of righteous indignation.

"Bullshit! The report is real!" Brenda shrieked. "I already did my homework with the management's office. Your son's name is Jason Parker! Of course the DNA sample belongs to your son!

"Ashley made sure to keep a card up her sleeve. She secretly gathered strands of his hair from the hotel room specifically to run this test."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

"Wow, you guys really had it all thought out."

The thug was losing his patience, aggressively swinging his baton in the air.

"Alright, lady. Enough with the talking! Hurry up and sign the damn papers. You're holding me up from going out for drinks."

He reached for the report in my hand, but I sidestepped before he could touch it and slipped it into my pocket.

"I think I'll hold onto this. It's going to make a fantastic piece of evidence for extortion," I said.

Brenda went completely ballistic, her hands turning into claws as she lunged toward me. "How dare you steal my evidence! Get it back from her!"

The rest of the thugs surged forward simultaneously.

I quickly retreated into my apartment and reached for the security door, but one of them jammed his baton into the gap before I could pull it shut.

The guys outside threw their weight against the handle, pulling back hard. The metal frame let out a horrific, grinding screech.

Just then, a barrage of hurried footsteps echoed from the stairwell.

Robert Thompson, the head of the Homeowners Association, came rushing onto the floor, flanked by a few older neighborhood watch women.

"Stop it! Every single one of you, stand down right now!"

Robert was absolutely drenched in sweat as he forced his way to the front, pointing a finger at the thugs.

The second they saw him, they loosened their grip on the door and stepped aside.

Brenda didn't miss a beat. She threw herself at Robert's feet, crying a river of crocodile tears for her audience. "Mr. Thompson, you have to help us!"

Ashley dropped to her knees right beside her. "Mr. Thompson, I can't take it anymore! Maybe I should just take my own life!"

Robert looked at the glaring paint splattered across the walls, his brows pulling together.

"Emily, what exactly is going on here? Where is your son? Get him out here so we can settle this face-to-face!"

I calmly dusted myself off. "He's right inside."

Robert let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Emily, I've got to be honest with you. You can't run a household like this. Running away from your problems isn't going to fix anything."

Brenda shot me a smug look. "You heard him. Even Mr. Thompson is calling you out. Get your son over here right now! And while you're at it, sign over the deed to this penthouse!"

Ashley handed the contract over to Robert. "Mr. Thompson, look at the terms. We're being incredibly reasonable here, aren't we?"

Robert scanned the document, his expression souring.

"Signing over a luxury penthouse apartment, plus half a million dollars in cash? Don't you think that's a bit excessive?"

"How is that excessive?" Brenda shrieked, her face turning ugly.

Robert turned back to me. "Emily, maybe you should just meet them halfway and pay them some kind of settlement."

I looked at him, then slowly turned my gaze back to Brenda.

"Mr. Thompson, are you sure you want my son to come out here and settle this face-to-face?"

Brenda screeched at the top of her lungs, "Yes! Get him out here! I want to see what that pathetic little deadbeat looks like!"

The thugs joined in, laughing and egging her on, while Ashley kept her eyes glued to the bedroom door.

"Ms. Parker, stop protecting him. If he doesn't walk through that door right now, I swear I'll make a scene you'll never forget!"

The punk handling the phone started reading the livestream comments aloud.

"After all the buildup, that scumbag is finally making an appearance!"

"Everyone, get your screenshots ready! Let's cancel this jerk once and for all!"

I nodded. "Alright. Since you're all dying to meet him, I'll give you exactly what you asked for."

I turned around and walked toward the guest bedroom, resting my palm against the knob.

Everyone waited with bated breath, their eyes glued to the door as Brenda thrust her phone camera into the crack.

"Look closely, everyone! The deadbeat is about to show his face!" she yelled. "Once we hit a hundred thousand likes, I'm personally delivering ten slaps right to his face!"

Ashley pretended to fix her hair, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as she stared at the door, her voice dropping to a delicate purr.

"Mr. Parker, you're finally coming out to see me."

I turned the knob.

With a sharp click, the door swung inward. I let out a sharp whistle. "Jason, come out. You've got company."