My Neighbor Stole My Garage, So I Locked His $10 Million Deal Inside

My garage became my neighbor's free parking spot.

The roller shutter door was broken for three months, and Marcus's black Audi sat in my garage for those entire three months.

Sweetheart, your door won't close anyway. And I see you don't even have a car. It's just sitting empty.

He patted my shoulder, ash from his cigarette falling onto my shirt collar.

"Once this batch of goods sells, I'll buy you dinner."

I just smiled and said nothing. The next day, I called the repairman.

A month later, Marcus was jumping mad in my garage.

His Audi, along with a ten-million-dollar contract inside it, was locked tight by my newly installed smart roller door.

When the HOA manager called, I was boarding my flight.

"Chloe, where are you? Marcus is losing his mind! He said he'd get down on his knees and beg you!"

I walked through the boarding gate, sounding completely surprised:

"My garage? I haven't used it in forever. How could anyone else's stuff be in there?"

I stood in front of my garage. There was a car parked inside, but it wasn't mine.

It was shiny and clean, obviously just washed.

The wheels were resting right on top of the renovation materials I had stored inside. A few PVC pipes had cracked under the weight.

I couldn't even count how many times I had called him about moving his car.

Every time, he either ignored the call or gave me the same entitled excuse: "Your garage is empty anyway. We're neighbors, what's the big deal?"

But now, I had a better plan.

"Hey, sweetheart, you're back?"

Marcus, who owned the custom furniture workshop next door, strolled over. He was jingling his keychain.

"Marcus," I said, pointing at the garage. "My materials..."

"Oh, that's nothing!" He waved his hand dismissively. "Your door is broken anyway, right? It's just wasting space. My shop has been crazy busy lately, and I had nowhere to park. So I used your spot."

There it was again.

He said it so naturally, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stared at him in silence.

Seeing that I didn't speak, he took a step closer and lowered his voice.

"Look, Chloe, you're letting good space go to waste. I'm doing you a favor by keeping it in use. You should be thanking me."

I almost laughed out of sheer anger.

"I actually need to use those materials."

"Oh, come on!" He patted my shoulder roughly. "You young people take things too seriously. How much could that cheap plastic be worth? Once this new inventory sells, I'm making this much." He held up five fingers.

"When that happens, I'll buy you the best materials, and I'll take you out to any restaurant you want. My treat."

With that, he actually opened my storage cabinet inside the garage, took out a bottle of mineral water I had left there, unscrewed it, and took a drink.

"Nice water. Sweeter than the stuff I have at home."

Looking at his smug face, I swallowed my words.

With people like him, arguing is a waste of breath.

He lived in his own world where everything he wanted belonged to him, and everything he took was his right.

"Alright," I nodded. "You have a point."

Marcus blinked, then burst into a loud laugh, slapping my back hard. "That's what I'm talking about! Good girl! You get it!"

He walked off, satisfied. Before leaving, he even swiped a fresh pack of screws I had left on top of my toolbox.

The moment I got inside my house, the smile wiped off my face.

I opened my laptop and booked the best storage service in town to move all my valuables out of the garage.

Finally, I booked a flight to New York.

Since you love that garage so much, I'll let you enjoy it.

The trap is set.

I hope you like the game.

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of my hotel room, holding a glass of champagne.

My phone screen was lit up, showing a live security feed of my garage.

To make sure I didn't miss a thing, I had secretly installed several HD cameras covering every single angle before I left.

On the screen, Marcuss car was still parked comfortably in my garage.

Not only that, but several boxes of his inventorylooks like unsold lighting fixtures from his shopwere now stacked in the corner.

Just then, his wife, Brenda, waddled into the frame, carrying a massive cardboard box.

She shoved it onto the top shelf of my unused bookcase. She even used her sleeve to wipe the dust off the shelf, looking around as if she owned the place.

She spoke into her phone, her voice coming through the mic crystal clear:

"Marcus said this neighbor is a pushover. She doesn't care at all, so we can use the garage however we want. Since her cheap door is broken anyway, we might as well take advantage of it."

I took a sip of my champagne, feeling incredibly pleased.

Perfect. The prey was walking straight into the trap, and I was hundreds of miles away.

Over the next few weeks, I watched my garage turn into Marcuss personal warehouse and junkyard like I was watching a reality TV show.

First, it was a few boxes of lights. Then, rolls of wire and half-empty paint cans.

Eventually, they even shoved in their son's old desk and computer.

My cracked renovation materials had been kicked into the darkest corner, gathering dust.

I watched the feed as Marcus directed his workers to squeeze a half-broken, rusty old freezer into my already packed garage.

Greed has no bottom.

All I had to do was dig the hole remotely. I didn't even need to be there to push him in.

My trip to New York was coming to an end. The timing was perfect.

From my hotel room, I contacted the smart home installation company I had researched earlier.

"Yes, the order we discussed. You can start the installation now," I spoke into my headset.

"I've detailed everything in the email. If any neighbors ask, just tell them it's a routine remote maintenance order from the owner. No need to chat."

"Understood, Ms. Miller. Once it's installed, all controls will be transferred to your phone app."

On the day of the installation, I watched the whole thing on my live feed.

The professional team was fast. The old, broken door was gone, and the new smart roller door was installed flawlessly.

The sleek silver-gray door looked high-end and operated in near silence.

The commotion brought Marcus out.

He walked around the new door, his eyes a mix of surprise and a sneaky sort of joy.

He tried to strike up a conversation with the technician.

"Hey, is the owner back? Why the sudden repair?"

The technician didn't even look up, giving the exact answer I had prepared.

"No idea. We just follow the order. The owner booked it remotely."

"Ah..." Marcus nodded thoughtfully. He rubbed his hand over the smooth metal door and muttered under his breath, "Well, it looks safer now anyway. My goods... I mean, she won't be back anytime soon anyway."

He had no idea that this door, which he thought was protecting his stash, was about to become his worst nightmare.

After the team left, I looked at the app notification on my phone.

I gently swiped the screen.

The door rolled up silently, then rolled down.

A satisfying click sounded as it locked shut, and the app chirped to confirm.

I had left him a working door, just like I had left him one last chance.

But he would never take it.

The big day finally arrived.

From watching the cameras, I knew that Marcus had a meeting at 10:00 AM today to pick up a huge client from Miami.

This client was his golden ticket. A massive order that could save his struggling business. And the physical contract and product samples were locked inside the trunk of his Audi.

At 9:30 AM, I sat at my hotel desk, packing my bags while watching the live feed.

On screen, Marcus was wearing a tight suit, his hair slicked back with gel. He stood in front of my garage, adjusting his tie with a smug grin.

His wife, Brenda, stood behind him, buzzing in his ear about the contract details and how to kiss up to the client.

At 9:40 AM, he pulled out his phone, a fake, flattering smile plastered on his face as he texted the client.

At 9:50 AM, he took a thick folder from Brenda and stuffed it into his briefcase.

At 9:55 AM, he took a deep breath, looking victorious, and reached out to pull open the garage doorever since the new door was installed, he had been opening and closing it manually without any issues.

But this time, the door didn't budge.

His smile froze. He pulled harder.

The door remained locked tight, like a solid steel wall.

"What's wrong?" Brenda hissed, stepping closer. "Why won't it open? It worked fine yesterday!"

"What the hell?" Marcus muttered, getting annoyed. He slammed his palms against the door. "Did this brand-new piece of junk break already?"

He walked around the door, searching for a keyhole or any way to force it.

But this smart door was designed to be perfectly seamless for security. Aside from a maintenance panel that required special tools, there was no physical lock to pick.

"The remote! Get the remote from the owner!" Brenda shrieked.

"Right! The remote!" Marcus gasped like a drowning man catching a rope. He whipped out his phone and called my number.

In my quiet hotel room, my phone began to buzz on the desk.

I watched his caller ID flash. I calmly folded my last shirt and placed it in my suitcase, letting the phone ring until it went silent.

Once, twice, three times...

He called repeatedly, his panic rising with every ring.

On the feed, sweat was beads on his forehead, and his slicked-back hair was starting to fall apart.

"She's not picking up! Why isn't she picking up?!" he yelled at Brenda, his voice cracking with fear.

"How should I know?! You said she was an easy target!" Brenda screamed back. "What do we do now? The client lands at noon! It takes over an hour to get to the airport! If we miss him, this deal is dead!"

"I know! I know what time it is!" Marcus kicked the door hard, making a dull thud. A dusty footprint appeared on my pristine silver door. "This damn door! This stupid bitch!"

At exactly 10:00 AM, I zipped up my suitcase and grabbed my room key.

My phone showed over a dozen missed calls.

It was time to start the show.