In the dead of night, Jason was jolted awake by his ringing phone, only to hear his daughter sobbing on the other end. As the conversation unfolded, he learned her landlord was coercing her to vacate her apartment. Determined, Jason resolved to teach the landlord a lesson…
The unexpected late-night call startled me into answering without a second thought.
It was Lily, my daughter, tearfully speaking from the other end.
“Dad,” she wept, her voice cracking.
“What’s the matter?” I inquired, sitting bolt upright and slipping on my slippers. “Explain to me, Lily, what’s going on?”
“My landlord overheard that I received a promotion at work. I was outside with Nolan, laughing and celebrating with a drink, and obviously, he eavesdropped from the main house. Since then, he’s been incessantly mentioning upgrades and increased rent.”
“Alright,” I replied slowly, absorbing the information.
Admittedly, it was a distasteful tactic to extract more money from tenants, yet it didn’t seem like a reason to cry over.
“But darling, why are you in tears?” I questioned, maintaining a calm tone.
Deep down, I yearned to rush to my daughter’s side, but I held back, waiting for her to provide a valid reason.
“After I showed no dismay over the rent hike, he covertly discarded some outdated, banned chemical containers in my backyard and then charged me with breaching the lease by storing hazardous substances on the premises,” she disclosed.
“What?” I erupted. “That’s unlawful!”
“He’s given me two days to vacate,” she continued.
I seethed with anger. Lily had transformed that barren yard into a verdant sanctuary. She had devoted herself entirely to every shrub, every bloom, and even the vegetables.
Lily had always been adventurous. Unlike other kids who preferred indoor play, she was always outdoors, engaging with nature, curious about its workings.
“This is delightful, Dad,” she once said while I mowed the lawn and she busied herself with planting flowers.
“There are some worms here,” she noted, yet she planted the seedlings regardless.
Her mother disapproved. She wished for Lily to appear pristine, with manicured nails and neatly styled hair.
“You should discourage this, Jason,” my wife, Jenna, would argue. “Motivate her to be more ladylike.”
“Not a chance, Jenna,” I would invariably respond. “Let this sweet child be herself.”
Now, witnessing all that Lily had invested in her space, my only thought was to protect it.
“Don’t worry, dear,” I assured her, a strategy forming in my mind.
“How, Dad?” she queried.
“Because we’ll resolve this. Together,” I affirmed.
The following evening, I arrived at Lily’s with my truck and several friends, equipped with flashlights and fueled by justified indignation.
“Alright, team,” I declared. “We’re doing this for my daughter. We’re about to school Jack on proper landlord conduct, especially regarding the treatment of young women.”
