Amy Sinclair gaped at the notice plastered across her door. "What in the world?"

Samantha Reynolds snatched her phone from her purse, dialing the building management with sharp, furious taps.

"My apartment has been sealed. Care to explain why there's a legal notice on my door?"

The manager cleared his throat. "Ms. Sinclair, there's an ongoing ownership dispute regarding this unit. Until the court settles it, we've had to restrict access. You'll be notified when the matter is resolved."

Amy's voice turned glacial. "That's impossible. The deed has been in my name for years. There is no dispute."

"Well... the previous owner's family is contesting the sale in court. I'm afraid you'll need to arrange alternative accommodations until then."

Samantha's face flushed with indignation. "Are you serious? Five years later, and suddenly there's an issue? Where was this concern when she bought the place?"

Amy had purchased the condo shortly after returning to Newhaven. It was meant to be a temporary residence, nothing permanent, so she'd opted for a pre-owned unit. The transaction had been seamless—clear paperwork, no complications, full ownership transferred without a hitch.

Now, out of nowhere, this? It was ludicrous.

Amy tried calling the former owner, but the line rang endlessly.

Samantha exhaled sharply. "Celeste, just crash at my place tonight. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

Amy hesitated, then nodded.

They had barely settled into the cab when Samantha's phone buzzed violently.

"What do you mean my apartment has an issue too?!"

Her grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening. "That's impossible! My place was brand-new construction. There's no way there's a problem with the title!"

Whatever the response, Samantha's expression darkened further.

When she hung up, she turned to Amy with a look of utter disbelief. "Celeste... I can't go home either. They've locked me out."

Samantha's apartment had been a recent stroke of luck—compensation from Alexander Blackwood after the Victoria Langley incident. She'd given up her old lease and moved in immediately. Rent in the city devoured half her paycheck, so owning a place had been a godsend.

Now, barely settled, she was being forced out. It felt like a sick joke.

Samantha's jaw clenched. "What is Alexander playing at? Does he regret giving me the apartment? Is this his way of taking it back?"

Amy shook her head. "The deed is in your name. He can't just revoke it. My guess? He wants to ensure we have nowhere to stay. It won't last—a few weeks, maybe. Sam... I'm sorry. You're caught in this because of me."

Just like Theodore Whitmore, Samantha was now collateral damage in Amy's mess. If not for her, Alexander might have left Samantha alone.

Samantha scoffed. "Don't apologize. If it weren't for you, I'd never have gotten that place to begin with."

Arguing was pointless.

Amy pulled out her phone. "Let's book a hotel for now."

Samantha bit her lip. "You don't think he'll interfere with our reservations, do you?"

Amy considered it. "We'll avoid any hotels tied to Blackwood Enterprises or Prescott Industries—or their affiliates. Let's try one of their competitors tonight. But it's not a long-term solution. If Alexander pressures them, no one will risk crossing him for us."

Samantha exhaled sharply. "Then what? If they're willing to go this far, who knows what else they'll do—"

Before Amy could respond, her phone rang.