Chapter 3

Caldwell was released from the police station after just one night.

The reason: "Insufficient evidence, does not constitute rape."

"Insufficient evidence." Mary slammed the table in fury.

"He almost raped you! And that's insufficient evidence?!"

I said nothing, because I knew this would happen.

No surveillance, no witnesses. He insisted it was "consensual." The police could only classify it as a "civil dispute."

The first thing Caldwell did after getting out was come curse at my door.

"Juliet! You bitch! How dare you call the police on me?!"

He kicked the door three times. The security door dented inward.

"I'm telling you, you can forget about living in this place! Get out tomorrow!"

"Deposit? Not refunding a penny! Go ahead and sue me! Let's see who wins!"

A neighbor opened their door, took one look, and quickly shut it again.

No one dared speak. I sat inside, listening to his cursing, my hands shaking.

My phone rang. My mom was calling.

"Juliet, did that Caldwell come after you again?"

"Mom, it's fine."

"What do you mean fine! I saw the bruises on your neck in our video call! Just wait, I'm coming to New York next week."

"Mom, you don't need to come. I can handle it myself."

"How will you handle it? You're a twenty-four-year-old girl fighting against a property owner?"

I was silent for three seconds.

"Mom, didn't you teach me? When you strike a snake, strike at its vital point."

"Where's his vital point?"

"His building."

My mom's a lawyer. She's handled many property dispute cases. She knows these property owners' weak spots better than anyone.

"Juliet, have you checked the property rights for his building?"

"I'm checking now."

"After you finish, call me. I'll help you contact a lawyer."

I hung up and opened my computer, logging into the New York City planning and natural resources website.

I searched for records on Caldwell's building.

Ten minutes later, I found it.

This building had no rental registration at all.

Not only that, its designated use was "commercial," not "residential."

Converting a commercial building into partitioned rentals was illegal in itself.

I screenshotted the page and saved it to a folder.

My phone buzzed again. Mary sent a message.

"Juliet, I just saw in the tenants' group that Caldwell's looking for a renovation crew to tear down all the partitions on the third floor."

"Why?"

"Someone said Immigration has been checking illegal immigrants and illegal rentals lately. He might have gotten word."

A lightbulb went off in my head.

This meant he knew his building had problems.

I opened the "Victims Alliance" group. There were seventeen people now, all tenants screwed over by Caldwell.

Girls and guys.

Some had their deposits withheld, some had their rent raised, some were harassed.

I sent a message in the group.

"I found a way to send Caldwell to prison and make him pay up."

"What way?"

"Report him for illegal rentals. Fire code violations, no rental registration."

"Then what?"

"Then we collectively sue him. Those who didn't get deposits back, those who were overcharged rent, those who were harassed—everyone can get back what's rightfully theirs."

The group went silent for ten seconds, then exploded.

"Count me in!"

"I'm suing him too!"

"I have evidence of him taking cash without giving receipts!"

"I have chat records of his sexual harassment!"

Messages came one after another, flooding the screen.