Everett called me before the locksmith had finished replacing the final lock. Coralie had already told him her version, claiming I had humiliated her parents over a harmless misunderstanding. I didn’t argue. I simply sent him three security-camera recordings, including the one where his wife laughed about moving me downstairs because I was “old” and would eventually surrender. Then I sent photographs of the movers carrying furniture into my bedroom. Everett stopped defending her almost immediately.
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