Chapter 4

The attack started online, just as I knew it would.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with a notification from the neighborhood Facebook group. Molly had wasted no time.

Her post was a masterpiece of passive-aggressive manipulation. "Just feeling so heartbroken for the Fowler family," it began. "It' s in times like these that a community really shows its true colors. I was so happy to sign up to bring them a meal, but I was shocked when my best friend Gabrielle, the new neighbor, refused to help. She said it was a 'liability.' It just makes you wonder what kind of person moves into a neighborhood and refuses to help a dying child. Sending all my love and prayers to Caleb."

The comments flooded in immediately.

"That' s horrible! What' s wrong with her?"

"So cold. Some people have no heart."

Matthew Fowler' s comment appeared a few minutes later. It wasn' t a direct threat, but it was close. "Some people don' t belong in a family neighborhood. We look out for our own here. People who don' t get that learn the hard way."

The digital pitchforks were out. My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications from Nextdoor, too. The smear campaign was in full swing. They were painting me as a monster, isolating me before they made their next move.

The next day, it escalated from virtual to physical. I was in my home office when I heard shouting from the front yard. I looked out the window to see Matthew' s mother, the Fowler grandmother, standing on my lawn. She was a woman I remembered as a meddlesome, guilt-wielding shrew.

"Heartless bitch!" she screamed, her face contorted with rage. She was holding a bag of trash, and with a furious gesture, she upended it, scattering coffee grounds and food scraps across my mother' s rose bushes. "You won' t help my grandson? You' re a curse on this street!"

I grabbed my phone and started recording through the window before dialing 911.

"There' s a woman on my property, screaming and dumping trash on my lawn," I told the dispatcher, my voice steady.

By the time the police arrived, the grandmother was gone. I showed them the video. They were sympathetic but explained their hands were tied.

"We can go over and issue a warning for trespassing and harassment," one of the officers said. "But with these neighborhood disputes, it' s often he-said, she-said. My advice? Install some security cameras."

It was exactly what I expected. A temporary solution to a problem that was far from over. They were cornering me, making me feel helpless.

As the police car pulled away, I picked up my phone again. I didn' t call for more cameras. I called for backup.

"Andrew?" I said when he answered. "It' s Gabrielle. I need your help. Can you come stay with me for a few days? Things are getting... complicated."

There was no hesitation in his voice. "I' m on my way."