Chapter 2

The next day, reporters came to the complex.

At eight in the morning, I was woken by the noise downstairs.

I pushed open the window and looked down, and an interview van was parked at the entrance of the complex, with the local TV station’s logo printed on the side.

A female reporter holding a microphone stood downstairs with a cameraman beside her and was interviewing Carla.

Carla wore a floral dress, her hair loose over her shoulders, and cried pitifully in front of the camera.

Daisy stood beside her with her head lowered, tugging at the hem of her shirt and saying nothing.

“My daughter has autism and doesn’t speak,” Carla said, wiping her tears.

“That man targeted my daughter exactly because he knew she couldn’t talk.”

“A man in his twenties giving cake to a little girl he doesn’t know—is that normal?”

“All you parents, judge for yourselves.”

The red light on the camera was on.

I shut the window.

My phone rang again, and it was my landlord, Mr. Harris.

“Ethan, even the reporters are here, can you move out today?”

“I’ll return every cent of your deposit, and I’ll refund this month’s rent too, okay?”

“Mr. Harris, I haven’t finished packing my things yet.”

“Then hurry up, hurry up.”

“I have no choice either, management has called me three times.”

I hung up and continued organizing evidence.

I opened my laptop and continued organizing evidence.

Today, there was new material—the reposts on Ins had exceeded one hundred thousand, and someone in the comments had posted my ID number, my home address, and even my mom’s phone number.

I did not know how they got them.

I called my mom.

“Mom, have any strangers called you recently?”

“Yes, several yesterday, saying something about you getting into trouble and telling me to control you.”

“I said my son is studying for grad school, what trouble could he get into, and hung up on all of them.”

“If anyone calls again, don’t answer.”

“What exactly happened?”

“It’s nothing, just a small misunderstanding, and I can handle it.”

“Okay, take care of yourself and don’t stay up too late.”

After hanging up, I sat in my chair and stared at the ceiling, my mind blank.

At noon, I went downstairs to eat.

A crowd had gathered at the entrance of the complex, including residents, people there for the drama, and several people livestreaming with their phones.

I pushed open the building door, and everyone’s eyes turned toward me at once.

“That’s him!” someone shouted.

The crowd stirred.

Carla stood at the very front, and when she saw me, her tears fell again.

“How do you still have the nerve to come out?”

“How can you face my daughter?”

I looked at her.

“Carla, I’ll tell you one more time.”

“Yesterday was my birthday, and I bought a cake and came home, and Daisy was squatting by my door, so I shared a small piece with her.”

“The door was open, and it lasted less than two minutes.”

“You can go check.”

“My daughter can’t speak, so whatever you say is the truth?” Carla’s voice sharpened.

A woman beside her immediately chimed in.

“Exactly, a grown man giving cake to someone else’s little girl, do you think everyone else is stupid?”

Another man shouted, “Call the cops and arrest him!”

I took out my phone and dialed 911 in front of everyone.

“Hello, I want to report a crime.”

“Someone is defaming me, spreading false information about me online, and personally attacking and insulting me.”

“I need the police to intervene and investigate.”

The crowd was quiet for two seconds.

Carla froze for a moment, then started crying again.

“You still have the nerve to call the police?”

“You had bad intentions toward my daughter, and now you think you’re right?”

The dispatcher on the phone told me to go to the nearest police station to make a statement.

After hanging up, I walked through the crowd and headed outside.

On the way to the police station, my phone kept vibrating.

Someone on Ins had posted a video of me at the entrance of the complex, with the title “Pervert Man Actually Dares to Call Police, Arrogant Beyond Belief.”

The comments section was full of insults.

When I arrived at the police station, the officer who received me was a young cop named Officer Brooks.

I told him what happened and showed him the evidence saved on my phone.

After Officer Brooks finished looking through it, he frowned slightly.

“You’re sure the door was open the whole time?”

“I’m sure.”

“The lock on my rental apartment has a problem, and if it isn’t fully shut, it pops open automatically.”

“Before I went inside, I deliberately pushed it and confirmed that the door was open.”

“Can anyone prove that?”

“No.”

“At that time, there was only me and Daisy in the hallway.”

Officer Brooks was silent for a while.

“Carla also reported this matter to the police.”

“She said you had improper intentions toward her daughter.”

“Both sides insist on their own version, and there’s no surveillance footage, so this is difficult.”

“Then what gives her the right to spread rumors about me online?”

“She also provided evidence—the photo of you handing Daisy the cake.”

“In her view, that is evidence.”

I took a deep breath.

“Officer, let me ask you something.”

“If I didn’t do anything, but because of one photo, the entire internet curses me out and I’m forced out of my home, is no one going to do anything about that?”

Officer Brooks looked at me and said nothing.

After a long while, he spoke.

“You can take legal action and sue her for defamation.”

“But that takes time, and it also requires evidence.”

“I know.”

When I came out of the police station, it was already dark.

I stood by the road, opened my phone, and the homeowners’ group chat had exploded again.

Someone had posted about me calling the police, and the group chat was full of mockery.

“Guilty conscience, calling the police to act tough.”

“Trash like this, even the law can’t do anything to him.”

“Is management doing anything or not?”

“Are they still letting someone like this live in the complex?”

I closed the group chat and called my college roommate Ryan.

“Ryan, do me a favor.”

“Do you know any reliable lawyers?”

“I do.”

“My cousin is a lawyer, and he specializes in reputation rights cases.”

“Are you really going to sue?”

“I’m really suing.”

“Okay, I’ll send you his SnapChat.”

After hanging up, I walked back to the complex.

There was a notice posted at the entrance of my building by management.

“Regarding matters involving the resident of Unit 302, property management has already intervened and is handling the issue. Please remain calm and do not spread false information.”

Under it, someone had written a line in pen: “Make him get out.”

I looked at it for a few seconds, then went upstairs.

After returning to my room, I opened my laptop and continued organizing evidence.

Today, there were more than a dozen new posts and several hundred comments, and I saved screenshots of all of them.

I sent my mom a SnapChat message: “Mom, don’t go online for the next few days.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just that some people are talking nonsense online, and it’ll only upset you if you see it.”

“Okay, I won’t look.”

“Study well.”

I turned off my phone and sat by the window.

Outside the window was the complex courtyard, where several children were playing on the slide.

Adults sat on benches chatting, occasionally looking up toward my building.

I knew what they were looking at.

They were looking at the window of 302.

I drew the curtains shut.