I called a lawyer.

The situation seemed impossible, but I refused to let Amanda get away with this. My lawyer advised me to gather everything I had, even if it was only half of what was once mine. Then we would file a case against her for illegal eviction and destruction of property.

With renewed determination, I showed up at Amanda’s office the next day. She was in a meeting when I walked in, but the receptionist knew exactly who I was.

“Ms. Jenkins, I presume?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Exactly. And I’m here to discuss what happened to my belongings,” I said, standing tall. The fear was gone, replaced by a quiet confidence.

I handed the receptionist the letter from my lawyer. Within minutes, Amanda stormed into the lobby, pale-faced.

“Are you crazy?” she spat, looking around like she was about to lose her cool.

“I’m not crazy, Amanda. You are. You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life,” I replied coldly.

The confrontation escalated, but it was too late. I had already filed the papers, and within weeks, Amanda had to pay for what she did. The judge ruled in my favor, ordering her to compensate for my damaged property and evicting her from her own building for violation of landlord-tenant laws.

The last thing I saw of Amanda was her own things being dragged to the curb by movers, the irony not lost on me. I walked past her, head high, knowing that sometimes, karma really does have a way of evening the score.