My Dead Dad vs. A Very Much Alive Scammer

Right after I finish paying my respects to my dad on his death anniversary, the property manager calls me in a panic. "Joanne, check the group chat! Your dad's gotten himself into huge trouble!" I look at the group chat, and Suzanne Weston has already sent three voice messages, screaming her head off. "Josiah groped me at the plaza last night!" "If you don't pay me 200,000 dollars in compensation, I'll die right here!" There is even a photo attached. In it, my dad is grinning like a creep as he grabs her butt. Everyone in the group chat snaps. Some are calling my dad a shameless old pervert, while others are calling for him to be reported to the police and charged. Rita Lind also chimes in, "That's right! Yesterday, he groped my thigh! Two victims in such a short time? What an old pervert! Including my incident, that makes the settlement 500,000 dollars! Or else, we'll livestream everything and expose your family!" For a moment, I'm too stunned to process what is happening. I stare at my dad's portrait in the living room. He's been dead for a year. Has he returned from the dead to harass the neighbors? Chapter 1 Before I could even process the messages, someone started pounding on my front door. I put down my phone, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A whole crowd was outside, led by the property manager, George Zeller. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking thoroughly helpless, while Suzanne Weston plopped herself down on the mat outside my door. She slapped her thighs and wailed at the top of her lungs, while Rita Lind stood behind her and glared at me with her arms crossed. "Everyone, look over here! How are we supposed to live like this?" When Suzanne saw me open the door, she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Joanne Calhoun, where is your damn old father? Get him out here! Last night at the plaza, that dirty old man reached over and groped me before it was even dark! I can't live with this! That pervert ruined my reputation!" Neighbors poked their heads out into the hallway, whispering among themselves and pointing at my apartment. "How shameless! He's in his 70s, but he's still doing such things?" "You really never know what someone is really like. Look at that creepy grin in that photo." "His wife died years ago. Maybe he was pent up, but that doesn't mean he can prey on the neighbors!" I listened to the whispers around me, staring down at Suzanne without a hint of emotion. "You're saying my dad groped you last night?" "Yeah!" Suzanne sprang up from the floor and shoved her phone right in front of my face. It was the photo that had been shared in the group chat. Under the streetlamp, a skinny old man was grabbing a woman's butt. He looked just like Dad. Even the mole at the corner of his mouth was in exactly the same spot, and he was grinning lecherously. "The evidence is right here! What else do you have to say?" Rita chimed in, "Last night, he groped Suzanne. Then, he grabbed my thigh too! We've already looked into it. Your dad's company just paid you 500,000 dollars in compensation last month! I'm telling you, if you don't hand over that money today, this won't end!" Just like that, I understood the true motive behind this farce. A month ago, Dad's old factory had gone through a restructuring and finally paid out the compensation he was owed for the lung disease he had suffered from back then. The total came to 500,000 dollars. Unfortunately, I had let that slip while taking a call downstairs. Suzanne happened to overhear me while she was picking out eggs nearby. So, they had banded together to extort me. "Joanne." George hurriedly came over and whispered, "Your dad was getting on in years. Maybe he just had a momentary lapse of judgment. If you report him to the police, he'll ruin his reputation in his final years. He could even end up behind bars. "Since you have some spare cash, you should just pay them off and make this go away. Just pay them some compensation for emotional distress and be done with it. You're still neighbors. It would look bad if you were to take this to court." I didn't explain or argue. I just found the whole thing so absurd. It was Dad's death anniversary, and somehow, these women actually tried to extort me without even knowing whether my dad was alive. I glared at the greedy Suzanne and asked, "You want 200,000 dollars, don't you?" "No, 500,000 dollars!" Rita quickly corrected me. "Don't forget my share!" I nodded. "Sure." Suzanne and Rita's eyes lit up, and George sighed in relief. They thought I had backed down and was ready to hand over the money. Then, I said, "Go ahead. Call the cops." The hallway went quiet. The smile froze on Suzanne's face. She couldn't seem to process what I had said. "If the police open a case and a court orders compensation, I'll pay whatever the court orders. Even if it's a million dollars, I'll pay it. But if you want to settle this privately, you won't get a dime," I said. With that, I slammed the door shut without hesitation, leaving them outside. Everyone outside was silent for a few moments. Then, they threw even more vicious insults at me. "Joanne! You're asking for it! Just you wait!" "I'll make sure your pervert of a father ends up behind bars!" I leaned back against the metal door and looked across the living room at the long table in the middle. In the memorial portrait, Dad smiled benevolently at me. An urn was sitting in front of the portrait. "Dad, it has been a year since you died. I never imagined you'd return from the dead and become a lecherous old man, to boot," I thought. Chapter 2 When Suzanne's attempt to extort me failed, she dropped all pretense. Within a single day, I had become the most hated person in the apartment complex. She played dirty. Not only did she spend 24 hours bombarding the residents' group chat with accusations, but she also printed hundreds of copies of that photo and plastered them across the entrances and inside the elevators. At the top of them was a warning in huge, bold black letters. "Beware! A Pervert Lives in Building 8, Unit 402! He Stalks and Molests Women!" I went downstairs to take out the trash. The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I ran into Emily Ludd from across the hall. When she saw me, she quickly covered her nose and mouth and hurried off, keeping as close to the wall as possible. Once she was far enough away, she shouted to her daughter, "Stay away from Unit 402! An old pervert is living there! He even goes after women in their seventies! You won't be safe either!" When I reached the trash cans, Sonny Kingston, the cleaner who had always been on good terms with Dad, tried to avoid me. He swept the ground while shaking his head and sighing, not even looking my way. The residents' group chat was completely out of control. Then, Suzanne sent a video. In the video, she was lying in a hospital bed with gauze wrapped around her forehead. "Everyone, I don't want to live anymore," she sobbed. "Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that old pervert's filthy hands. The doctor says I'm suffering from severe psychological trauma and depression. My daughter rushed back home overnight. She told me we have to sue him! We're going to put him behind bars!" The group chat exploded again, sending one message after another. "I support Suzanne! She should be standing up for herself! A filthy old pervert like him needs to be punished!" "Like father, like daughter. If Joanne refuses to pay, she must be just as rotten as he is!" "Kick their family out of the complex!" I stared impassively at the vicious messages on my screen. I simply recorded Suzanne's videos and took pictures of her flyers. I even saved backup copies. Every single insult would be solid evidence when the time came to put her behind bars. My phone kept vibrating. The caller was James Calhoun, Dad's older brother. We hadn't been in touch for over a year. There was no need to guess why he was calling. The moment I answered the call, Uncle James' voice came blasting through the phone. "Joanne, what the hell are you up to? I've already seen that video that's already spread back in our hometown! Josiah is over seventy, but he's still groping people? You two have dragged our family's name through the mud!" I moved the phone slightly away from my ear before saying calmly, "Uncle James, Dad passed away a year ago. Didn't you know that?" There was a brief silence on the other end, but his voice turned even more vicious. "Don't try to pull that excuse on me! Last year, you said he had gone to the city for treatment. His ashes were never even brought home! "Who knows if he really died? A dead man can't possibly grope someone! He must have done that before he died. Now they're coming after you!" Uncle James' logic seemed so impeccable. It didn't matter if Dad was dead or alive. This was still a disgrace to the Calhoun family. He said, "I'm warning you. Hand over that 500,000 dollars to settle this mess! Give them what they want! Then, the rest of the money goes into my account. "Consider it compensation for the damage to the Calhoun family's reputation! Otherwise, I'll bring everyone in the village to your complex, put up banners, and smash your door in!" I actually laughed. These were my so-called relatives. He hadn't asked or suspected what had really happened. All he cared about was that 500,000 dollars. "Uncle James." I said calmly, "If you want money, get it from my dad in the afterlife. And if you dare come here, I'll lock you up with them." With that, I hung up and blocked his number. The room fell silent once again. I walked over to the table and picked up a cloth, carefully wiping the urn that held Dad's ashes. Then, I opened the drawer and took out his death certificate and cremation certificate, both bearing official seals. I neatly placed them in a black waterproof document pouch, along with the official record of Dad's death. Chapter 3 Suzanne wasted no time. Seeing that I wouldn't budge, she called the police on the third day. Then, the police sent a notice to my phone. I had to go to the community mediation center as a family member and cooperate with the investigation. The night before the mediation, Suzanne held a public gathering of sorts in the courtyard. Somehow, she had gotten her hands on a megaphone, but she and Rita took turns using it and screaming at the top of their lungs. "Listen up, everyone! That little bitch from the Calhoun family refuses to pay us and still won't admit she's wrong! "I've already called the police! Tomorrow, they'll be arresting that old pervert! That old man worked hard to earn that money, and this heartless bitch would rather see her own dad rot in prison than give up a cent! She's inhumane! "Look at the way she dresses! She always flaunts herself! She's out early and home late. Who knows what she's doing behind everyone's back? Her dad was a filthy old pervert, so his daughter must also be a whore! They are a disgrace to our neighborhood!" Over a hundred people had gathered in the plaza. The crowd shouted furiously, fueled by Suzanne and Rita's words. "Drag that old pervert out and shame him!" "Get that bitch out of our complex! She can't disgrace our community!" I stood on the balcony, watching the farce unfold below. I stared at the twisted delight on Suzanne's face. Just then, a few young men in the crowd, who had been worked up, suddenly lashed out at me. "Go to hell, you bitch!" Amidst a volley of crude curses, several rotten vegetables and eggs came flying toward my balcony. The foul-smelling eggs and rancid slop splattered across my window. A wave of gleeful laughter and cheers erupted from the crowd below. Suzanne was practically giddy as she grabbed the megaphone and shouted, "Good! Don't show mercy to shameless bitches like her! If you're still angry, splash red paint across her door and stuff dead rats through it!" She was so wrapped up in her own act that she actually believed those shabby tactics would force me to hand over the money. Just then, I got a call from an unknown caller. "Hello, is this Joanne Calhoun, Josiah Calhoun's daughter?" It was a woman's voice on the other end of the line, dripping with undisguised contempt. "I am Isla Paxton, Ms. Weston's attorney. On behalf of my client, I'm giving you one last chance before tomorrow's mediation. If you hand over the 500,000 dollars now and publicly apologize to everyone in the complex, we'll consider dropping the case. "You should know this is a serious assault case involving a large sum of money and major public attention. Your dad is already an old man. Once he's arrested, he may never get out. "As for you, everyone in the complex already hates you. With your ruined reputation, you may never show your face in society again. I strongly advise you not to be stingy with that money. You'll end up risking your father's life and ruining your own reputation." As I listened to her, I couldn't help but smile. "Isla, right? You seem so confident about this case. Have you actually examined the evidence?" She laughed coldly over the phone. "The photo is crystal clear, and we have both witnesses and physical evidence. I've also looked into all the trouble your family has caused in the complex. No matter how you try to deny it, it won't do you any good." I took a deep breath. "Just a word of advice. Meet my dad before tomorrow's mediation. Or else, you might face charges of perjury tomorrow." Isla went silent for a few moments. Then, she said disdainfully, "Still pulling tricks when you're guaranteed to lose? See you at the mediation tomorrow!" The call ended with a harsh click. I tossed my phone onto the couch, fighting back the stench of garbage filling the room. Then, I turned toward the table. I took out a piece of black cloth and carefully wrapped Dad's portrait in it. Then, I slipped the urn containing his ashes into a black backpack. "Dad, you haven't been out in a year. I'll take you out for a walk tomorrow. Let's see what kind of people they really are," I thought. Chapter 4 At 10:00 am the next morning, I arrived at the mediation center. When I pushed open the door, I found the small meeting room packed to the brim. Suzanne hadn't just brought a lawyer. She had dragged every relative she could bring with her. Meanwhile, Rita was sitting beside her, looking miserable, as though she were really a victim. The back rows were packed with residents from the complex, and several of them even held up their phones to secretly livestream. Two uniformed officers sat at the table at the front, frowning. The moment I walked in, an uproar broke out. "That's her! The pervert's daughter!" "She has some nerve to show up here! We're going to ruin her family!" "She's repulsive! That perversion must run in the family!" Everyone hurled vicious insults at me, but I remained unfazed as I walked straight to the front. I placed my backpack beside the table and cradled the square object wrapped in black cloth in my arms. Isla stood up, glanced behind me, then looked at me with disdain. She asked, "Joanne, where's the suspect? Where's Josiah? Why isn't he with you? Don't tell me he ran away to avoid going to prison?" Suzanne slammed her hands on the table and wailed, "Sirs, arrest him! He must have gone on the run!" The lead officer knocked on the desk and yelled, "Quiet down!" He then frowned at me and said, "Joanne, our department has received a formal report alleging that your father sexually harassed Suzanne Weston, Rita Lind, and several others in the complex plaza on the night in question. The complainants have provided a clear photo as evidence. "Under the public-order laws, we need to question Josiah Calhoun in person. As his family member, you must cooperate with the investigation and bring him here." The moment the officer finished speaking, Isla took several documents from her folder and slammed them onto the table. She said, "Sir, this isn't just a matter of public security. My client has been diagnosed with severe depression because of what Josiah did to her! We're not just asking for him to be detained! We want his family to hand over 500,000 dollars in compensation immediately!" Isla glared at me, looking as if she had me cornered. Suzanne's relatives in the crowd began jeering. "Lock him up!" "If they won't pay, lock him up!" "That old pervert can rot in jail!" Rita stood up as well. She pointed a finger right in my face and cursed, "Joanne, if you don't bring that bastard here, and you can't come up with that money, I'll bash my head against this table and die right here!" Dozens of eyes from around the room bore into me, filled with malice and greed. They wanted me to hand over the 500,000 dollars. I stood there, watching their expressions, and sighed. My gaze swept across the room before stopping on the two officers. "Sirs," I said softly, but my voice cut cleanly through the chaos. "The suspect, Josiah Calhoun, didn't run away." Suzanne's eyes lit up. She asked, "Then, where is he? Bring him out here and make him apologize!" I looked down and held the two corners of the black cloth in my arms. "I've already brought him here." As everyone stared at me in confusion and disdain, I ripped the black cloth away. I slammed the framed portrait down onto the table. Inside the frame was Dad's memorial portrait. In it, he wore a kind, gentle smile. Meeting everyone's eyes, I said slowly, "My dad is right here. Go ahead. Arrest him if you dare."