Daniel felt sick. He had bought a warzone.
"If she doesn't get that pipe in the ground by the end of the fiscal year," Owen said, "her husband's company defaults on a $40 million construction loan. She’s desperate."
Suddenly, Daniel’s phone rang. It was his neighbor, Mrs. Gable. "Daniel? Honey, you need to come home right now. There’s a bulldozer in your driveway."
Daniel's tires smoked as he skidded into his driveway. A massive yellow excavator was parked on his front lawn, its treads tearing up the pristine grass. A crew of four men in hard hats were unloading steel fencing panels.
"Hey! Turn that off!" Daniel sprinted across the yard, waving his arms.
The foreman, a burly man with a clipboard, stepped in his path. "Are you the homeowner? We have an emergency municipal work order. Authorized by the HOA."
"This is private property! You have no legal right to dig here!"
"Look, buddy," the foreman shoved a piece of paper into Daniel's chest. "I’ve got an easement order signed by President Hale. It says the shed is a structural hazard over a failing neighborhood water main. We have to demolish it."
They were going for the shed. The exact spot she was measuring.
"If that machine moves one more inch, I am pressing criminal trespassing and property destruction charges against every single one of you," Daniel roared, pulling his phone out to record.