Freya said, "It was me who called the cops."
Freya's admission even surprised the officers. "You called the cops on yourself?"
"This woman," Freya gestured toward her landlady with frustration and disbelief, "accuses me of prostitution, barged into my apartment, and turned everything inside out. She rummaged through my belongings and tried to kick me out. We had a lease agreement. Her actions are illegal. I called the police to protect my rights." Freya laid out her case with clarity and conviction.
The landlady, however, was unimpressed, retorting, "She's renting from me. You think I'm going to let my place turn into some brothel? Is it wrong for me to kick her out? Officer, I need you to be fair here!"
Feeling the usual headache of complex neighborhood disputes, the officers were hesitant. Dealing with such disputes was always tricky, like trying to solve a puzzle where all the pieces seem to fit nowhere.
"Is it true? Are you involved in prostitution?" The officer turned to Freya with a skeptical look.
"No," Freya answered firmly.
"She's lying! I saw her meeting with several men today. It wasn't just me. Many in the neighborhood saw it, too. Luxury cars kept showing up. In the afternoon, she left with two men, and at night, she met another. If she's not a prostitute, then what is she?" The landlady presented her case like an open-and-shut matter, painting Freya in a criminal light.
Eager to fan the flames, the neighbors interrupted, "Yeah, we saw it, too."
"I’ve never seen so many fancy cars around here until she showed up. She must be a whore. What a shame!"
"Pretty face like hers. If this woman was not walking the streets, what is she doing?"
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Can you please convey this to the person who owns this website? Update “find me in your labyrinth” novel please...author is MIA since 12/4.........