My family tried to forced-move into my mountain house without asking

I pressed “Call.”

“Walter’s Lock and Key,” a gruff voice answered.

I swallowed. “Hi. I need every lock on my house changed today.”

There was a pause. “Everything all right, ma’am?”

“No,” I said quietly. “But it will be.”

I ended the call, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

A hard, insistent rap sounded at the door.

“Mara, open this door right now,” Mom shouted. “We have mattresses out here before it gets damp.”

I stayed perfectly still. Let them think I wasn’t home. Let them pound until they were tired.

After a few minutes, the knocking stopped. Then I heard Dad say to Mom, “We’ll try again later. She’ll come around.”

My phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Mrs. Rowan appeared on the screen.

Just checking on you, sweetheart. Are you okay?

I typed back, I’m handling it. Please don’t let them talk to you or say things on my behalf.

Her reply was immediate.

I won’t. But they’ve been asking around the neighborhood all week. They told the UPS guy earlier that they’re moving in. Permanently.

I froze. All week. Permanently.

This wasn’t a spontaneous takeover. They had been preparing. They had surveyed the land, asked questions, spread stories, ensuring it would sprout into something believable before I had a chance to deny it.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was an unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.

“Mara?” A calm voice asked. “This is Deputy Hartman with the Cedar County Sheriff’s Office. I’m returning your call from earlier.”

Relief flooded my chest. “Yes. Thank you for calling back. I need to know what my options are.”