Blackmailing My Neighbor -v2024-08-02- - -completed-

As he walked out of the station, his phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Smart choice. Don’t come back to the building. Your lease is terminated. The locks are changed. And Leo? Next time you pick a neighbor to blackmail, make sure they’re actually the villain. — R Leo stood on the curb, the summer sun too bright, the money in his pocket feeling heavier than guilt.

And somewhere in a locked drawer in Richard Vance’s penthouse, there is a USB stick labeled “Leo_3B_Backup.” Just in case.

Leo opened the door. His hands were empty.

Instead, he knocked on Leo’s door.

“I know it’s you, Leo,” Richard said, his voice soft. “The fire escape. The 2:00 AM timing. The way you flinched in the elevator last week when I mentioned the locker.”

Richard smiled. “That’s better. Here’s my final offer: Delete everything. I’ll give you one last payment—$100,000—to disappear. Move to a different city. Change your name. And I’ll delete my recordings of you.”

Leo didn’t sleep that night. He deleted the files. He packed a single bag. At 6:00 AM, he collected the $100,000 from Locker 117—a peace offering, or a bribe, depending on your morals. Blackmailing My Neighbor -v2024-08-02- -Completed-

So Leo went back to the fire escape.

Leo pulled back into the shadows. His heart wasn't pounding from fear. It was pounding from opportunity .

“I’m not here to fight,” Richard continued. “I’m here to negotiate. You have my confession. I have yours. I recorded every note you slipped under my door. Every withdrawal from my account that traces to your fake LLC. We both go to prison, or we both walk away.” As he walked out of the station, his phone buzzed

“I’ll pay it back,” Richard whispered to the empty room. “Just give me forty-eight hours to run.”

He couldn’t sleep. The hum of his cheap air conditioner finally died, and in the sudden silence, he heard a sound from the unit next door. Not the usual muffled television or the clink of a whiskey glass. A voice. Low. Desperate.

Through the gap, Leo saw Richard Vance—the king of 4A—on his knees. Not praying. Downloading. His shaking fingers dragged a folder labeled “Client_Data_2024” into a burner USB stick. On the screen behind him, a resignation letter to his own company was open, admitting to embezzlement. Don’t come back to the building

Leo had lived in the shadow of 4A for three years. Not literally, but financially. Richard Vance was the kind of neighbor who made you feel poor without saying a word. Italian marble foyer? Richard paid for the upgrade. Roof garden? Richard’s name was on the donor plaque.