Chapter 4 - Digital Footprints
Chloe didn't flinch.
Instead of showing shame or fear, her features hardened into a mask of pure, concentrated spite. She set her cup down so hard the green tea sloshed over the rim, staining the white quartz counter.
"You arrogant little brat," Chloe said, her voice dropping the sweet customer-service cadence and revealing the gutter beneath. "You think you’re so smart because you wipe asses in an ice storm? You think you own this place just because your name is on a piece of paper?"
"That is literally the definition of ownership, Chloe," I replied evenly.
"Not in Texas, honey," Chloe sneered, leaning over the table. "Jason and I have established legal primary residency here for over six months. We’ve received mail here. We have utility bills in Jason’s name. We have improved the property value by thirty-five thousand dollars through professional staging and commercial management. You abandoned this property for nearly a year!"
"I was working," I said. "On a temporary nursing contract."
"The law doesn't care why you left," Chloe fired back, her eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. "In this state, you can't just kick tenants out onto the street without a formal thirty-day notice to vacate. And if you try to change the locks, cut the power, or harass our paying Airbnb guests, I will have the Austin Police Department drag you off in handcuffs for unlawful self-help eviction. Try me, Maya. I know the Travis County justice of the peace system inside and out. It takes four to six months to clear an eviction docket right now. By the time you get a hearing, this house will belong to the LLC anyway."
I turned to my brother. "Jason. Are you really going to let her do this?"
Jason wouldn't look at me. He was staring at the salt shaker, his fingers nervously shredding a napkin into tiny, uniform strips.
"Maya... you don't know the pressure I’m under," Jason mumbled, his voice pathetic and hollow. "The crypto guys... they came to the condo last year. I took a bridge loan from some bad people to cover the bar’s vendor debts. If I don't clear the balance by the end of this month, they aren't going to file a lawsuit, Maya. They’re going to break my legs. They know where our condo was. They know my social security number."
"So your solution was to steal my house?" I asked, feeling a dull, heavy ache behind my sternum. "To forge my signatures, rob my equity, and put me out in the garage?"
"We weren't robbing you!" Jason cried out, his voice cracking with hysteria. "The rental income from the Airbnb was going to service the refinance interest! We were going to pay the mortgage from the guest revenue! You wouldn't have had to pay a thing! We were just leveraging an unused asset to save my life!"
"By putting my life on the line?" I stood up. The wooden chair legs scraped violently against the floor.
At that exact moment, the hallway door opened.
Mr. and Mrs. Henderson emerged, carrying their designer rolling suitcases. Both of them looked thoroughly uncomfortable, their eyes darting between Chloe’s vicious glare, Jason’s tear-stained face, and me standing tall at the head of the table.
"Uh... good morning," Mr. Henderson said awkwardly. "We’re heading out. We left the keycards on the entryway console."
Chloe instantly snapped back into her host persona, though the transition was far more grotesque this time—her neck muscles still bulging with rage while her mouth stretched into a stiff, terrifying grin.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Henderson! We hope you enjoyed your stay at the *Willow Creek Oasis*! Please don't forget to give us five stars on the app!"
"Right. Sure," Mr. Henderson mumbled, practically dragging his wife toward the front door. "One thing, though. Some guy in a city truck was taking pictures of your front porch and the driveway when we went out to load the car. He asked us how much we paid per night."
Chloe’s smile froze completely.
"What guy?" Jason asked, his voice suddenly sharp with terror.
"Had an Austin City badge on his belt," Mr. Henderson said as he pushed open the front door. "Looked like code enforcement. He handed me this flyer."
He tossed a bright yellow piece of paper onto the console table, walked out, and pulled the door shut behind him.
I walked over to the console, picked up the yellow flyer, and read it aloud.
"'*OFFICIAL NOTICE OF UNLAWFUL COMMERCIAL USE. Notice is hereby served to the owner of record: 1412 Willow Creek Lane. Operating an unpermitted Type-2 Short-Term Rental in an SF-3 zoned single-family residential district is a Class C misdemeanor under Austin City Code Chapter 25-12. An immediate cease-and-desist order has been issued. Continued operation will result in daily fines of $2,000 and immediate disconnection of municipal utility services.*'"
I looked over the top of the flyer at Chloe, whose pristine face was turning an ugly shade of mottled crimson.
May you like
"Well, Chloe," I smiled, feeling the first genuine surge of triumph since I had landed in Texas. "It looks like your five-star hospitality empire just hit a little regulatory speed bump."
***
