She ruled our apartment building like a queen — loud, entitled, and trailed by seven chaotic kids. Most neighbors stepped aside to avoid her wrath. I did too, until she kicked my deaf grandfather off the elevator. The security footage showed everything: Grandpa trying to hold the door, her barking “Out!” until he stepped aside, confused and clutching his groceries. Watching that broke something, in me.

Two weeks later, after a brutal hospital shift, I found myself face-to-face with her again. She ordered me out of the elevator. I didn’t move. “No,” I said. “I’m the guy whose deaf grandfather you bullied.” She was stunned. I stood my ground. Two neighbors slipped in behind her, nodding in silent support. That night,