The property manager, driven by greed for kickbacks, rallied the residents to dig a deeper underground parking garage for profit.

But as a geologist with a decade of experience, I saw the danger immediately: a high-pressure underground river lay beneath our community. Any construction would cause the entire building to collapse.

In my previous life, I went door to door, warning the residents of the risks, only to be dismissed as a lunatic.

Desperate, I alerted the authorities, halting the project and averting disaster.

But the property manager turned the blame on me. "That meddling geologist! She's jealous of our wealth and sabotaged our chance to get rich!"

Incited, the residents mobbed my home. In the chaos, the property manager grabbed my son and ran to the balcony, letting him fall from the tenth floor.

The residents, in unison, lied to the police, claiming my son had been playing and slipped.

My family ruined, I succumbed to despair and took my own life.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that fateful homeowners' meeting.

This time, as the property manager pushed for the excavation, I stood up and clapped. "Neville is right. Not only should we dig, we should dig deeper. Let's do it all at once and get rich together!"

...

"Sherry Poole from Building #8, what's your issue this time?" asked Neville Grady, the property manager. He tapped the table impatiently, his voice dripping with irritation. "You were the one causing trouble last time, holding up everyone's chance to make money."

His words, so eerily familiar, dragged me back to the memories of my past life. After my death, my soul lingered above the chaos.

On the cold cement below, my son lay in a pool of blood, his small body broken from the fall. I screamed, desperate to hold him, but my hands passed through his lifeless form again and again.

In that life, I stood in this same meeting, pleading with them. "Our complex sits above complicated groundwater systems. Below is a high-pressure underground river. Digging three levels for a parking garage will rupture the waterproof layer. The water pressure will destroy the foundation, and the entire building will collapse."

But Neville pointed at me, sneering. "Stop fearmongering! We hired a professional construction team."

My neighbor, Hannah Sykes, piled on, "Quit stalling our chance to get rich. A couple more parking spaces will send property values soaring."

...

Neville's voice echoed through the meeting room, fervent and persuasive.

"Dig three more levels, and every household gets at least one parking space. Some of you can even rent them out," he enthused. "This isn't just about convenience; it's about boosting your assets. I guarantee, within three years, our property values will double!"

Ansel Poole, sensing the tension, tugged at my sleeve. "Mom, what's wrong?"

I gazed at his vibrant, innocent face, and my heart ached with a familiar pang. The people around me were already swept up in Neville's promises.

"Good point! Parking spaces are worth more than cars these days."

"We've needed more parking lots for years. It's about time we dig."

Hannah leaped to her feet, rallying behind him. "I've been saying this forever. I'm with Neville. This is for our benefit!"

I closed my eyes, forcing down the storm of emotions. When I opened them, my face was calm, my resolve hardened.

Hannah, noticing my silence, rolled her eyes and jabbed again. "Sherry, what's your problem? Can't stand to see us all prosper? Neville's doing this for us. Why do you always have to play the contrarian? You think you're smarter than the professionals?"

The room buzzed with whispers.

The crowd's voices were sharp with judgment.

"She's always like this. Last time, when we wanted elevators, she was the only one against it, whining about load-bearing issues."

"Her family's got one car, so she doesn't care. We've got three, and we're scrambling for parking every day. Does she even get how hard that is?"

"Selfish! How is someone like her fit to be our neighbor?"

Amid the rising clamor, I stood slowly. Every eye in the room locked onto me, expecting my usual protests. Neville's brow furrowed, his patience visibly thinning.

But instead of arguing, I broke into a wide smile and clapped. The sharp sound cut through the room, stunning everyone.

Raising my voice, I spoke with a fervor I'd never shown before. "Neville is absolutely right! I'm all in. Let's dig sooner rather than later. Everyone is getting rich!"

...

The room went still, the air thick with disbelief.

Ansel looked up at me, puzzled. "Mom, didn't you say there'd be a flood?"

I patted his back gently, signaling him to stay quiet. Neville's irritation morphed into astonishment.

"Do you really think so?" he asked warily.

"Absolutely!" I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I was too narrow-minded before, always focused on risks and not the rewards. With a manager like you looking out for us, what's there to worry about?"

My words won nods of approval from the crowd.

"See? She gets it now."

"Nobody turns down a chance to make money."

The doubt in Neville's eyes faded, replaced by a smug grin. He cleared his throat and pulled out a stack of documents.

"Looks like we're all on the same page. To keep things fair and ensure smooth construction, please sign this Voluntary Fundraising Agreement for the Underground Garage," he declared. "Once signed, head to the finance office to pay the $50,000 contribution fee. The sooner we collect the funds, the sooner we start."

The residents surged forward, eager to comply.

"I'm first. I'll sign!"

"Don't shove! I've got my money ready!"

Hannah shot me a glance before elbowing her way to the front to sign and pay. I held the agreement, my fingers cold against the paper.

In my previous life, my resistance had stopped things before they reached this point. But now, Neville had come prepared with a contract to dodge accountability.

"Sherry, you done reading?" Neville urged, noticing my hesitation. "If there's no issue, sign it. Don't waste our time,"

I set the agreement back on the table, leaving the pen untouched. "My family won't be contributing."

His smile froze. "What?"

The residents in line turned, their eyes boring into me. Hannah pointed at me, her voice sharp. "What's that supposed to mean? You just said you supported it. Are you playing us?"

I put on a troubled expression. "Don't get me wrong. I fully support Neville and all of you, in spirit."

I sighed and pulled Ansel closer. "But my son is not well. He has asthma and is allergic to dust. If construction starts, with dust everywhere, I'm afraid he'll get sick. The doctor warned that a severe attack could be life-threatening."

"I've been thinking," I continued, "for his health, we'll move out during the construction period. Since we won't be living here, a parking space isn't of much use to us. We'll pass on the $50,000 fee. Once the garage is built, we'll move back. It won't affect anyone, and we're just trying to avoid causing trouble."

Ansel coughed softly, playing along. "Mom, I don't want to breathe all that dust."

My words left Neville and the residents speechless. Murmurs then spread through the room.

"Asthma is no joke, especially for kids."

"She's moving out for her son. Can't really fault them."

"Now that she mentions it, construction could be rough on kids and the elderly."

Some wavering residents grew hesitant, but Hannah's face twisted with frustration. "Asthma? That's just an excuse to dodge paying! Is your kid the only delicate one? Can't he tough it out? Stop undermining everyone!"

Her outburst had little effect. An older woman spoke up hesitantly. "Mr. Grady, my grandson has weak lungs, too. Maybe we shouldn't join either?"

"Exactly," another chimed in. "$50,000 isn't pocket change. If our kids get sick, medical bills could cost more."

The room teetered on the edge of disorder. Neville's face darkened, his composure cracking.

In the end, he slammed a folder down onto the table. "Everyone must participate!"

...

"We're a community!" he barked, glaring at me. "We're a community. The neighborhood's prosperity benefits us all. If you back out now, what will those who've paid think? You're fracturing our unity and demanding special treatment."

He took a deep breath, leaning into moral coercion. "There's no negotiation. You will sign the agreement and pay. Think of the greater good."

The residents exchanged uneasy glances, but many began to sway again.

"Neville's right. You can't just opt out of a group effort."

"That's selfish! You'd ruin our community for over $50,000?"

"Oh, and I forgot to mention some good news," Neville said, raising his chin. "Our renovation project has caught the authorities' attention. They say it'll be a model for revitalizing old neighborhoods. Once it's done, we'll be named a city-level exemplary community. And that's not all. The elementary school our kids attend will be upgraded to a key experimental school."

The residents were shocked by the news.

"What? The school is getting upgraded?"

"That's huge!"

"No wonder Neville is so set on this. It's for our kids' future."

Parents who had been on the fence now sparkled with excitement, pushing forward to sign.

"We're signing!"

"This is for our kids. We'll back you, no matter what!"

Neville grinned, managing the crowd. "Line up, one at a time. No rush."

Hannah glowed with zeal. "Sherry, still not joining? You're about to ruin your son's future. I tried everything to get my son into an experimental school. Now the chance is right here, and you're throwing it away?"