When Olivia returns from a business trip, she slips back into her routine by checking the security footage to be sure her home was safe while she was gone. But as the screen flickers, her stomach drops—uninvited guests hadn’t just entered her house, they’d made themselves at home, throwing a full Fourth of July celebration in her space.
When I finally got back from my week-long business trip, all I wanted was to curl up in sweatpants, pour myself a glass of wine, and decompress. Instead, the first thing I did was check the footage from my security cameras.
Paranoid? Maybe. But my boyfriend and I had recently watched a documentary about a young couple whose housekeeper threw wild parties while they were away, and it stuck with me. That story had been a nightmare—strangers raiding the liquor cabinet, smoking in the bedrooms, even skinny-dipping in the pool before cleaning it all up so the couple never knew.
“The mice really do come out to play when the cat is away,” my boyfriend, Ethan, had muttered when we watched it.
“You can’t trust anyone in your own home,” I’d agreed.
I didn’t have a housekeeper, but I did have neighbors. The Millers—a couple with two teenage kids—had been a constant thorn in my side ever since I moved into the house three years ago.
If it wasn’t complaints about my music, it was calls to the police about “excessive noise” during the construction of my pool. Never mind that their kids threw parties just as loud. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, they seemed to think my pool was the greatest offense to suburban peace they’d ever suffered.
So, as I waited for the footage to load, I wasn’t checking for burglars. I was checking for Millers.
I sat at my desk in sweatpants, tugging the cord of my hoodie anxiously. The screen flickered, loaded—and my stomach dropped.
There they were.
The Millers. In my backyard.
It was the Fourth of July. While I was stuck in a bland conference room across the country, my neighbors had thrown themselves a full-blown pool party in my yard.
Mrs. Miller, in her oversized sunha,t lounged on my deck chair with a margarita in hand. Mr. Miller splashed around with their teenage kids. Dozens of people, most I didn’t even recognize—jumped into my pool, ate on my patio furniture, and blasted music loud enough to shake the fence.
On my property.
Without asking.
My eye twitched.
“That’s it,” I muttered, slamming the laptop shut.
I grabbed my keys, my anger bubbling like a volcano ready to erupt.
When Mrs. Miller opened the door, she looked more annoyed than apologetic, as if I were inconveniencing her.
“Oh. It’s you,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, it’s me.” My voice shook, not from fear but fury. “Care to explain why you and your family were in my pool while I was gone?”
Her eyes flickered—just for a second—before she rolled them. “Oh, stop being such a drama queen. You barely use the pool anyway.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s not the point. You trespassed. Do you even realize how illegal that is?”
She smirked. “Calm down, Olivia. We were just having a little fun. No harm done.”
No harm done.
My pulse pounded in my ears. “This is exactly why I installed cameras. You call the cops on me for building the pool, but now you think you can waltz in and use it when I’m gone?”
Mrs. Miller crossed her arms. “Well, maybe if you weren’t such a nuisance, we wouldn’t have had to call the cops.”
That did it.
I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice. “Fine. You want to play games? Let’s play.”
I turned and walked back to my house before she could say another word.
I spent the next two hours printing photos from the security footage—clear, incriminating shots of the Millers and their guests having the time of their lives in my pool.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ethan asked when he came by later and saw me crouched over the printer.
“Yes,” I snapped. “They need to learn they can’t walk all over me. I’m sick of being everyone’s doormat.”
I wasn’t just angry about the pool. My final business presentation before flying home had been a train wreck—technical issues, rude colleagues, everything going wrong at once. I’d spent the flight back replaying all the ways I should’ve handled it differently.
I needed control of something.
So, I took those photos and added bold letters at the bottom:
“BE CAUTIOUS! TRESPASSERS IN THE AREA! CHECK YOUR BACKYARDS!”
The next morning, I walked around the neighborhood with Ethan, taping posters to mailboxes, streetlights, and stop signs. People peeked from windows. Curtains twitched. Whispers spread faster than the summer heat.
By noon, the Millers’ house was the center of a scandal.
It didn’t take long before there was furious knocking on my door.
When I opened it, Mrs. Miller was there with her husband behind her, both red-faced. She shoved one of the posters at me.
“What the hell is this?” she shouted.
I glanced at it, then back at her, keeping my voice even. “A warning to my neighbors about trespassers. It seemed like the responsible thing to do.”
“You take these down right now!” she snapped, spit flying.
“Or what?” I folded my arms. “You’ll call the cops on me again?”
Mr. Miller stepped forward, trying to look intimidating but mostly looking embarrassed. “This has gone too far. You h.u..m.iliated us in front of the whole neighborhood.”
I tilted my head. “No, you h.u..m.iliated yourselves. By trespassing.”
Mrs. Miller jabbed her finger at me. “If you don’t take those down, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I cut her off. Then I pulled out my phone.
Their eyes widened as I dialed.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes, hi,” I said loudly, staring at them. “I need to report a case of trespassing. I have video evidence.”
Mrs. Miller’s face went pale. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me.”
When the officers arrived, I showed them the footage. The Millers sputtered excuses, but the evidence was undeniable.
“This is pretty straightforward,” the officer said, closing his notebook. “You’re within your rights to press charges.”
I watched the Millers squirm. For a moment, I considered it.
But then I shook my head. “Not today. A warning will do. But if it happens again, I’ll press charges.”
The officer nodded. “Understood. We’ll file a report. It’ll be on record.”
As they left, Mrs. Miller leaned toward me, her voice low and venomous. “You’re going to regret this.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Stay off my property.”
They stormed away.
And for the first time in months, I felt like I had won.
That evening, I sat by my pool, the water shimmering under the fading sun. No loud music, no uninvited guests—just peace. I sipped my wine and let the satisfaction wash over me.
A few days later, while tending to my garden, my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Carter, walked over with her usual plate of fresh scones.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said gently. “I heard what happened with the Millers. Are you alright?”
I wiped sweat from my brow and smiled faintly. “Yeah. I just needed to set some boundaries.”
She gave me a knowing look. “You did the right thing. It’s important to stand up for yourself, especially when others think they can take advantage.”
She patted my arm, then pressed the warm plate of scones into my hands.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt at home again…….