The next day, Patrice knocked on my door, changing everything. She stood there with a stack of papers and a determined glare. “Hi, I’m Patrice. Got a minute?” she said, handing me her business card.

“Sure, what’s this about?” I replied, eyeing the papers curiously.

“I had a survey done, and your fence is nine inches onto my property,” she said, waving the documents. “You need to move it or pay me for the land it’s on.”

I was stunned. “I built that fence based on an agreement with Grant and Candice,” I explained. “We didn’t get a survey, but we all agreed on the spot.”

Patrice shook her head, unimpressed. “That might fly out here, but where I’m from, we stick to the rules,” she snapped. “Move the fence or pay up.”

“Plus, that thing’s an eyesore—old and ugly. If you don’t move it, I’ll take action, and you’ll regret it.”

Her attitude floored me. I tried explaining the handshake deal with Grant and Candice, but she wouldn’t budge. She even threatened to sue, leaving me no choice.