The quarterly HOA meeting was packed. Bradley stood at the podium in his navy blazer, gavel in hand, ready to vote on evicting me for what he called repeated aesthetic violations. He smiled at me from across the room, the same smug smile he wore every time he slid a fine under my door. Neighbors avoided my eyes. Some looked sorry. Most looked relieved it was not them. Bradley cleared his throat. He said, Miss Reyes, before we proceed, would you like to say anything in your defense? I stood up slowly, smoothing my simple gray dress. I walked to the front. I placed a leather folder on the podium beside his gavel. I said, Actually Bradley, I would. I opened the folder. Inside was the acquisition paperwork, the management transfer, and a termination letter with his name at the top. I said, Effective immediately, Bradley Kane is no longer president of the Maple Ridge HOA. He is also no longer employed by Ridgeline Property Management, which my company owns. All fines issued against unit forty-two, my unit, are voided and will be refunded from his personal severance. The room went dead silent. Bradley’s face drained of color. His gavel slipped from his fingers and clattered on the wood. He stammered, You, you cannot, this is my board. I slid a second document across. I said, It was. I am the majority stakeholder. Board seats are appointed at my discretion. I turned to the neighbors. I said, Anyone here who was fined for a grieving widow’s memorial wreath, a disabled child’s wheelchair ramp, or a single mother’s dented car, please see me after. Your money is coming back. A woman in the third row began to cry. An elderly man started clapping. Then everyone did. Bradley tried to speak. Security, hired by my company that morning, gently escorted him out. As he passed me, I said quietly, The grass on your lawn is one inch too tall, Bradley. Consider this your notice.
