Listening to the busy tone on the phone, my head went blank. In all my thirty years, I had never met anyone this ridiculous.

I opened the PDF report she sent, Residential Environmental Safety Hazards and Tenant Health Risk Assessment Report.

Good grief. If someone didn’t know better, they’d probably think it came straight from a national research institute.

The contents of the report left me completely speechless.

[Risk No. 1: The bedroom floor has a small tilt of 0.01 degrees, which could cause spinal problems during sleep.]

[Risk No. 2: The indoor air’s PM2.5 concentration is 15. It meets national standards but is still higher than in the Swiss Alps, so a new ventilation system is recommended.]

[Risk No. 3: The Wi-Fi router’s radiation level at night goes over the safe limit for pregnant women and babies by 0.001%, which may affect sleep and brain health.]

Each point came with detailed data charts from measuring devices and included quotes from research papers, both local and foreign, as supporting evidence.

I let out a long breath and called my property manager.

“Manager Moore, have you met the new tenant in my apartment?”

Miles Moore’s voice was hard to describe.

“Director Murphy… you mean that Ms. Griffin?”

“She came today with a lawyer and a few people in white lab coats. They were taking water, soil, and air samples from the public areas in the neighborhood, saying they were going to make a Health Risk Assessment Report for the whole community. The owners’ group chat is going crazy right now.”

My mind went blank for a moment. This wasn’t just strange anymore; it was complete madness.

“Director Murphy, about this situation…”

I rubbed my temples and said, “Got it. I’ll deal with it.”

After hanging up, I sent Skylar a message. [Tomorrow at 10 a.m., I’ll bring my lawyer. We’ll talk in person.]

She replied right away. [Please be on time. And make sure your lawyer is as professional as mine.]

Seeing the words “as professional as mine,” I almost crushed my phone in frustration.

The next morning, I didn’t bring a lawyer. I went alone to the apartment I had rented out.

The door opened, and Skylar stood there wearing a white dress and gold-rimmed glasses.

She looked elegant but carried a hint of arrogance. Behind her was the same lawyer who had threatened me over the phone the day before.

“Ms. Murphy, where is your lawyer?” Skylar adjusted her glasses and looked me up and down.