Hi, I’m Victoria, 57. A few weeks ago, I came home from a two-week work trip to find something horrifying: my bright yellow house — a color my late husband and I chose together — had been repainted a dull, depressing grayI was stunned. Furious. My home, the one filled with memories and sunshine, had been stripped of its soul.It didn’t take long to figure out who was behind it: my neighbors, the Davises,
who had complained endlessly about the color since they moved in. They thought it was “too loud,” “an eyesore,” and “bad for property value.” I’d always shrugged them off with a smile… but this time, they’d gone too far.Turns out, while I was away, they forged a work order, posed as homeowners, and hired painters to repaint my house. My neighbor Mr. Thompson saw it all, took photos, and tried to stop them