The comments from our mutual friends were interesting. “Cute. Where’s Isaiah? Isn’t that your ex? Girl, what are you doing?” She replied to none of them. My boy Marcus texted me, “Bro, you seeing this BS?” Me, “Yep, she made her choice.” Marcus, “What’s the plan?” Me, “Already done. She’ll find out Sunday.” Saturday called my landlord Greg early morning, explained the situation. “She’s not on the lease?” “Nope, never was.” “You giving her proper notice?” “30-days written notice is ready, but she chose to leave for a trip after I told her to move out.” “Say no more. I’ll have maintenance change the locks. Technically, she abandoned the property.”
By noon, new locks. By 1:00 p.m., I’d updated my door camera system and added an extra security measure. Changed the door code. Saturday night, that’s when the pics got really interesting. Scarlett at some club grinding on Vince. Full make-out session in her story that she deleted after an hour, but not before I screenshotted. Mandy texted me, “Isaiah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would be like this. She told me you were cool with the trip.” Me, “She told you wrong.” “They’re sharing a room now. I’m so uncomfortable.” Me, “Not your fault. Appreciate you telling me though.” So much for just friends.
Sunday, the return. Her flight landed at 6:00 p.m. I was at my buddy’s place watching the door camera feed on my phone. Yes, petty. Don’t care. 7:23 p.m., she arrives, tries her key, does it work? Tries again, looks confused, tries the door code, nothing. Calls me, I don’t answer. Texts, “My key isn’t working.” Me, “That’s not your key anymore.” Her, “What?” Me, “Check the planter by the door.” I’d left an envelope there. Inside, storage unit key and info, her official 30-day notice to vacate and a simple note, “You don’t need my permission for anything. That includes living here. Your stuff is in storage unit number 247. You have 30 days to make arrangements. Isaiah.”
The door camera caught her face perfectly. Shock, rage, disbelief, chef’s kiss. She called 27 times in the next hour. I answered none of them. She left 15 voicemails. Here’s the highlight reel. One, this isn’t funny. Open the door. Two, Isaiah, I’m serious. Let me in now. Three, you can’t just lock me out. I live here. Four, this is illegal. I’m calling the police. Five, please, it’s not what you think. Six, Vince means nothing. You’re my boyfriend. Seven, I’m going to sue you for everything. Eight, where is my stuff? Nine, the storage unit is locked. Give me the code. Ten, I have nowhere to go. Eleven, you’re a psychopath. Twelve, baby, please. Let’s talk. Thirteen, I made a mistake, okay? Fourteen, answer your phone. Fifteen, you’ll regret this.
She actually called the cops. They showed up around 9:00 p.m. I was expecting this, so I was back at the apartment with my documentation ready. Officer, “Sir, we have a report of an illegal eviction.” Me, “Here’s the lease showing only my name. Here’s the written 30-day notice I provided. Here’s proof her belongings are safely stored. She left for vacation after I asked her to move out.” Officer to Scarlett, “Ma’am, are you on the lease?” “No.” “But how long have you been gone?” “Just a weekend trip.” Officer, “Where are your belongings?” Me, “Storage unit 247. She has the key.” Officer to Scarlett, “Seems like proper notice was given. This is a civil matter now.”
The look of betrayal on her face when the cops sided with me, priceless. After the cops left, Vince showed up. Vince, the ex, trying to be Captain Save-a-Ho. Vince, “Bro, this is messed up. Just let her get her things.” “Her things are in storage. She has the key.” “Come on, man. Don’t be like this.” “Like what? Single? That’s what she wanted.” “Look, nothing happened in Cabo.” I just held up my phone, showed him the screenshot of them making out. “That was— We were drunk.” “Cool story. Still not your apartment. Bye.” He tried to puff up. “What if I don’t leave?” “Then I call the cops back. Your choice.”
He left. Scarlett was crying in his car. Actual tears. The same woman who yelled about not needing permission was sobbing in her ex’s Honda Civic. Current status? Scarlett is staying with Mandy, who’s apparently mortified by the whole situation. She’s been posting about narcissistic exes and illegal evictions. Vince is already back on dating apps, Mandy’s boyfriend showed me. I’ve had three friends reach out saying Scarlett asked them for money. Her stuff remains in storage, prepaid for 30 days.
The best part? She’s telling everyone I kicked her out for no reason and that I’m controlling and abusive. But Mandy already spilled the tea to our friend group about Cabo. Tomorrow I’m getting my car detailed. She had a key to that, too. Need to handle that. Also meeting with a lawyer friend to make sure I’m covered legally. She wanted to act single. Now she is. With her ex, who apparently doesn’t have his own place, either, since she’s crashing with Mandy. You love to see it.
Update two. Two weeks later, the entitlement has reached absolutely astronomical levels. When the initial shock wore off, Scarlett went from victim mode to full-scale war. First, she tried to control the narrative. Posted this long Facebook essay about escaping abuse and toxic relationships. Painted me as this controlling monster who isolated her from friends and monitored her every move. Problem? Our mutual friends knew better. Comments started rolling in. “Didn’t you just post pics making out with your ex in Cabo? Isaiah isolated you? You went on girls trips every month. Toxic? He literally paid for your coding boot camp.” She dirty deleted the whole post within hours.