“Until this is properly resolved, I’m not taking possession of an occupied unit under disputed circumstances.”
“You were ready to do exactly that twenty minutes ago.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No attempt to rewrite what happened.
He simply took the hit.
“I believed the landlord had already completed a valid reassignment,” he said.
“I was wrong.”
I didn’t know what to do with an apology that wasn’t dressed up as one.
Mr.
Lynn was still on speaker.
“Mr.
Falcone, that creates a serious issue for us.”
Mateo glanced at the phone.
“I’m aware.”
“We prepared 4B specifically—”
“You prepared nothing.
Her belongings were still inside this morning.”
“We can offer Elena another concession.”
“No,” I said.
Mateo looked at me.
I stood.
“No more concessions.
No more surprise solutions.
Restore my apartment.”
Mr.
Lynn exhaled.
“All right.”
I almost missed it.
“What did you say?”
“We’ll restore 4B.”
“Tonight?”
“It may take until tomorrow.”
I looked into 4C at my mattress standing on its side.
Mateo followed my gaze again.
“Tonight,” he said.
Mr.
Lynn protested immediately.
“Maintenance has gone home.”
Mateo looked at the three men who had arrived to move him in.
“I have movers.”
Luca nodded once.
The next hour was one of the strangest of my life.
The same men who had blocked my doorway began carrying my belongings back through it.
But this time, nothing moved without me pointing first.
“Bed frame against that wall.”
Luca carried it there.
“Books in the living room.”
Another man stacked the boxes exactly where I asked.
“My dishes stay upright.”
Mateo himself picked up a carton marked only with a strip of blue tape and handed it carefully to Luca.
Nobody argued.
Nobody rushed me.
When they reached the cracked photograph, Mateo set it separately on the kitchen counter.
“Send the replacement cost to Lynn,” he said.
“It’s not expensive.”
