She Stole My Milk. Then Her Lawyer Sent a Demand Letter.

The following Monday, the neighborhood was quieter than it had been in months. The news of Preston and Victoria's arrests had made the front page of the local paper.

Joanne didn't waste a single second. While DA Miller handled the criminal prosecution, Joanne filed a massive civil suit on my behalf against the entire Montgomery family.

We weren't just asking for the return of my legal fees. We were demanding maximum punitive damages for extreme emotional distress, property damage, and malicious prosecution.

"I just got off the phone with the judge," Joanne said, sitting at my kitchen island with a triumphant grin. "He granted our emergency injunction. We've officially frozen their family trust fund."

"Wait, they actually have money?" I asked, pouring us both a cup of coffee.

"Not anymore," Joanne laughed. "Every cent is locked down pending our trial. They can't even hire a decent defense attorney."

That evening, I was out on the porch fixing the wiring for my new security camera. I heard the crunch of footsteps on my gravel driveway.

I turned around to see Beatrice standing there. She wasn't wearing her pearls or a colorful tracksuit. She wore a faded grey sweater, and she looked ten years older.

"Michael," she croaked, her voice cracking. "Please. I need to speak with you."

"You shouldn't be here, Beatrice," I said, picking up my toolbox. "My lawyer said I shouldn't communicate with you outside of court."

"Please!" she begged, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. "They froze my bank accounts. I can't even buy groceries. You have to drop the lawsuit for compensation."

She fell to her knees right there on my driveway, sobbing into her hands. I stared down at the woman who had tried to ruin my life over a bottle of milk.