Every morning a black Porsche sat in my parking spot — Ethan, the developer’s arrogant son, treating my driveway like his. I asked politely. He ignored me. His mother, the HOA president, shrugged it off.
After weeks of humiliation, I snapped. One morning I smashed his windshield. Neighbors gathered; Karen exploded. I told them I wanted him to feel what it’s like to be disrespected.
It felt like reclaiming my dignity, but the aftermath was messy — and a harsh reminder that standing up can come with a steep price.
