My Daughter’s Landlord Set Her up So He Could Evict Her and Raise the Rent – We Taught Him a Smart Lesson

When Jason’s phone rings in the middle of the night, he finds his daughter crying. During the conversation, he discovers that her landlord is forcing her out of her place. Jason decides to give the landlord a lesson…

I received the call late at night; it was so unexpected that I answered it without even thinking about who could be on the other end. Groggily, I clicked the green icon and held my phone up to my ear.

A man sleeping | Source: Midjourney

A man sleeping | Source: Midjourney

“Dad,” Lily, my daughter, sobbed into my ear.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately sitting up and getting my feet into my slippers. “Tell me, Lily, what’s happening?”

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

“My landlord found out that I got a raise at work. I was sitting on the porch with Nolan, and we were laughing about it and toasting. And of course, he heard it from the front house. Ever since, he keeps talking about renovations and higher rent.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to understand despite the grogginess from sleep.

A close-up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

Sure, it was a disgusting way to make money off people, but it wasn’t something to cry about.

“But sweetheart, why are you crying?” I asked, trying to keep my own voice steady.

Everything in me wanted to run to my child. But I wouldn’t do anything until she gave me a reason to.

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

“After I had no reaction to the rent increase, he secretly threw some old, prohibited chemical containers into my backyard and then accused me of violating the lease by storing hazardous materials on the property,” she said.

“What?” I exploded. “That’s illegal!”

Numerous plastic containers | Source: Unsplash

Numerous plastic containers | Source: Unsplash

“And he has given me two days to move out,” she continued.

I was fuming. My daughter had transformed that backyard from a barren plot into a blooming oasis. She poured her heart into every plant, every flower, and every single vegetable.

A beautiful outdoor space | Source: Unsplash

A beautiful outdoor space | Source: Unsplash

She had always been like this. Lily wasn’t the type of child to sit inside and play with her toys. She preferred to stay outside and get her hands dirty, trying to discover how things grew.

“This is so much fun, Dad,” she told me one day when I was mowing the lawn and little Lily was planting flowers.

A little girl in a garden | Source: Unsplash

A little girl in a garden | Source: Unsplash

“There’s a few worms there,” she said, pointing. “But I still planted the seedlings anyway.”

Her mother hated it. She wanted Lily to have freshly pressed clothing, clean nails, and hair that stayed in place.

“You need to stop enabling this behavior, Jason,” my wife, Jenna, would say. “Encourage her to be a little lady.”

A happy little girl standing on a bed | Source: Midjourney

A happy little girl standing on a bed | Source: Midjourney

“Not a chance, Jenna,” I would always say. “Let this sweet girl just be herself.”

Now, after everything Lily had done to make her garden her own space, all I wanted to do was try and save her hard work.

A little girl climbing a tree | Source: Pexels

A little girl climbing a tree | Source: Pexels

“Don’t worry, honey,” I said, a plan already forming in my mind.

“How, Dad?” she asked.

“Because we’ll sort this out. And we’ll do it together.”

A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney

The next evening, I showed up at Lily’s place with my truck and a few friends. We were armed with flashlights and a healthy dose of righteous anger.

“Right, guys,” I said. “We’re going to do this for my daughter. We’re going to teach Jack a lesson. That as a landlord, you cannot go around and take advantage of young women.”

A group of older men | Source: Midjourney

A group of older men | Source: Midjourney

We meticulously dismantled the entire backyard haven that Lily put together.

“Dad?” Lily asked when she realized that we were there. “What’s going on?”

“Hi, darling,” I said. “We’re going to teach your landlord a lesson. He cannot do this. So, we’re going to take everything apart. I’ll take your plants home, too.”

Tools on a bench | Source: Midjourney

Tools on a bench | Source: Midjourney

Lily yawned and stretched.

“I’ll leave you to it, Dad,” she said. “I’m going to rest for a little bit and then get back to packing up the place when the sun comes up. I’m going to stay with Nolan until I find a place. He’ll be here with more boxes soon.”

“Go on,” I said. “We’ll be quiet, I promise.”

A tired young woman | Source: Midjourney

A tired young woman | Source: Midjourney

As we worked, every lovingly tended plant, every painstakingly built bed, vanished. By the time we were done, the once-flourishing garden was reduced to a desolate patch of dirt, a stark contrast to the lush photos Jack, the landlord, had already posted for the new listing.

A house listing photo | Source: Midjourney

A house listing photo | Source: Midjourney

“Thanks, guys,” I said. “You can leave. I’ll just help Lily pack. I’ll pick up my truck later, Malcolm.”

I wasn’t done. There was still more work to be done.

Inside the house, we rearranged the furniture to highlight all the faults.

A woman surrounded by boxes | Source: Midjourney

A woman surrounded by boxes | Source: Midjourney

The cracks in the walls were not hidden by Lily’s art pieces. The missing tiles were left out in the open without any kitchen appliances to cover them up.

“Nothing can be done about the ceiling mold in the bathroom,” Lily told me. “But I have been telling the landlord that we needed to sort it out.”

Cracks in a wall | Source: Midjourney

Cracks in a wall | Source: Midjourney

We replaced all the light bulbs with very bright blue-white ones, making the entire place look stark and uninviting.

As we worked, Lily and I talked about her time in the house.

A man carrying a box | Source: Midjourney

A man carrying a box | Source: Midjourney

“I remember when I first moved in,” she said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The backyard was just dirt and concrete. And I didn’t think that anything could grow here. But eventually it did. And every time I felt homesick, I would come out here and plant something new or tend to whatever was growing.”

“And you made it happen,” I replied, smiling. “You turned it into a paradise.”

A young woman planting | Source: Midjourney

A young woman planting | Source: Midjourney

She sighed.

“It just feels so unfair. I did everything right, and he still found a way to ruin it all.”

“We’re not going to let him win,” I assured her. “This is just a setback. You’ve got a new adventure waiting for you. Nolan’s place is a good stop for now, but I know that he’s serious about you. Maybe a new house together is going to be the next step.”

A smiling father and daughter | Source: Midjourney

A smiling father and daughter | Source: Midjourney

I left my daughter’s place feeling confident that her landlord would get a really good wake-up call the next day.

“Dad, can you come over?” Lily asked me on the phone early that morning. “Please be here when I have to hand over the keys to Jack.”

“I’ll be there soon,” I said, buttering my slice of toast.

Buttered toast on a plate | Source: Midjourney

Buttered toast on a plate | Source: Midjourney

Lily had me packing her shoes into a box when Jack stormed in, livid.

“What the hell, Lily?” he demanded. “Where are the plants? The flowers? The pictures online clearly show what this place is supposed to look like!”

He sighed deeply, his face turning the color of a particularly overripe tomato.

A shocked old man | Source: Midjourney

A shocked old man | Source: Midjourney

Lily, the picture of innocence, blinked at him.

“What plants, Jack?” she asked. “The backyard has always looked like this, haven’t you noticed?”

She gestured toward the desolate patch, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Jack, caught red-handed with his deceitful plan, spluttered some incoherent threats about property damage. I stepped in, pointing at the exposed faults.

A desolate backyard | Source: Midjourney

A desolate backyard | Source: Midjourney

“You want to talk about damage?” I said, my voice cold.

“Let’s discuss the cracks in the walls, the missing tiles, and the mold in the bathroom. You can see everything clearly now, can’t you?”

Jack’s eyes widened as he looked into the bathroom.

“This is clearly sabotage!” he yelled.

A close-up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of an older man | Source: Midjourney

“No,” I replied, pulling out the photos I’d taken when Lily moved in.

“This is exactly how the place was when she moved in. If anything, it’s tidier now. Nothing is missing, Jack.”

Jack tried to regain his composure, but the three couples who came for the viewing that afternoon saw the house in its raw, unappealing state. They all left without putting in an application.

A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney

Meanwhile, after a few months, Lily found a new place with a landlord who appreciated her green thumb, not just the potential for profit. As my daughter settled into her new home, I couldn’t help but feel proud.

Lily and I sat on her new porch, looking out at the spacious yard that would soon become her next gardening project.

A smiling older man | Source: Unsplash

A smiling older man | Source: Unsplash

“Dad, I can’t thank you enough,” she said, her eyes bright with relief and excitement. “I was so scared, but you knew exactly what to do.”

I smiled, squeezing her hand as we swung on the porch swing. “You did the hard part, kiddo. You stood up to him. And now, you’ve got a fresh start.”

A porch swing | Source: Unsplash

A porch swing | Source: Unsplash

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:

My Sweetest Old Neighbor Helped Me Unpack & Later, I Found Her Note in the Box – It Made Me Immediately Sell the House

When Phoebe decides that her new chapter begins with a divorce and a new house, she finds a little house in a sleepy neighborhood. As she gets unpacking, she meets a wonderful neighbor, who has a big responsibility for Phoebe.

When we first moved to the little house at the end of Maple Street, I was filled with hope and a sense of new beginnings. It was just my 6-year-old daughter, Lily, and I.

The exterior of a house | Source: Unsplash

The exterior of a house | Source: Unsplash

We were finally starting over after a difficult year: me going through a tough divorce with Lily’s father, and Lily having to navigate life without her father living in the same house.

“It’s okay, Mom,” she said softly to me one night. “I don’t like how Dad always shouted at us.”

It was clear then that we needed to break free.

A young mother and daughter | Source: Midjourney

A young mother and daughter | Source: Midjourney

From the moment I met Mrs. Thompson, she reminded me of my own grandmother. There was this motherly warmth to her that made me feel like moving here was the right decision.

“I’m Hazel,” she said, walking up to our porch with a batch of freshly baked cookies. “I’m so glad you’re moving into the neighborhood. My house is that one.”

She pointed to the little house directly next to mine.

Freshly baked cookies | Source: Midjourney

Freshly baked cookies | Source: Midjourney

“And who is this little girl?” she asked, seeing Lily jump into a pile of leaves.

“This is Lily, my daughter,” I said, introducing the two. “We needed a new start.”

When our official moving day arrived, Mrs. Thompson insisted on coming over and helping me unpack.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

My Husband Found a 17-Year-Old Letter in a Bottle While Fishing — Reading It Sent Him to Find Its Late Author’s House

When my husband found a dusty old bottle floating in the lake, we never imagined it would send us on a journey straight out of a mystery novel. The letter inside spoke of betrayal, hidden treasure, and a life on the brink. Eventually, its contents dragged us into the eerie remnants of a stranger’s past.

I had just curled up on the couch with my favorite book and a hot cup of tea in hand. The house was quiet, the way I liked it when Tom was out fishing. Through the open window, I could hear birds chirping, and the cool lake breeze carried the scent of pine.

A woman drinking tea with a book | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking tea with a book | Source: Pexels

Tom had left before dawn, as usual, with his tackle box and that old fishing rod he still refuses to replace. He never caught much, but he loved that it was just him, the water, and the quiet. I figured he’d be back around dinner, like always.

But this day was anything but regular.

A man fishing | Source: Pexels

A man fishing | Source: Pexels

The sound of the door bursting open made me jump, nearly spilling my tea. Tom came rushing in, out of breath, his boots thudding across the floor. His grin stretched ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled like he’d just found buried treasure.

“Katie! Honey! Get ready — we’re going to the next town over!” he shouted, holding something behind his back.

A happy man coming home | Source: Freepik

A happy man coming home | Source: Freepik

“What on earth are you talking about?” I asked, setting down my tea. “What’s going on?”

“Look!” he said, pulling a dusty old bottle out from behind him. The glass was foggy, but I could see a yellowed piece of paper curled inside.

I stared at him, then at the bottle. “What is that?”

“It’s a letter!” he said, practically buzzing with excitement. “I found it out on the lake! You won’t believe what it says.”

A bottle with a note | Source: Freepik

A bottle with a note | Source: Freepik

Tom and I have been married for twelve years, and life with him has always been a little unpredictable. He’s the kind of guy who can turn a simple walk into an adventure. I’m the opposite. Careful, steady, always thinking things through.

But somehow, we balance each other out.

A couple talking | Source: Pexels

A couple talking | Source: Pexels

What we both share, though, is a love for stories. Whether it’s a mystery novel, a family tale, or even a rumor in town, we’re both suckers for a good narrative. That’s probably why I didn’t stop him right away when he said we needed to drive to another town because of a letter in a bottle.

Still, I wasn’t about to let him drag me into something ridiculous without knowing more. “All right,” I said, crossing my arms. “What’s so important that you’re ready to drive twenty miles for it?”

Couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

Couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

Tom’s grin grew even wider. “You have to read it to believe it.”

Tom plopped down in his favorite chair, the bottle clutched in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. “So, there I was,” he started, “out by the reeds on the north side of the lake. You know the spot?”

I nodded.

A couple having an argument | Source: Pexels

A couple having an argument | Source: Pexels

“I was reeling in my line when I saw this thing bobbing in the water. At first, I thought it was just trash, but when I got closer, I saw the paper inside. I nearly tipped the boat getting it! Just listen.” He pulled the cork from the bottle and carefully slid out the brittle paper.

The letter was faded, the edges crumbling slightly, but the words were still readable. Tom cleared his throat and began:

An old letter | Source: Pexels

An old letter | Source: Pexels

“My friends called me “The Joker.” That was my code name in our gang. I will probably die tomorrow. I have no relatives, and all my friends betrayed me. We recently robbed a jewelry store, and all the jewelry is now in my basement. I want it to go to the person who found this message. Congratulations, lucky guy!”

Tom looked up at me, his face alight with excitement. “Can you believe it?”

A man reading a letter | Source: Freepik

A man reading a letter | Source: Freepik

I blinked. “Wait… What? A gang? Jewelry? Are you serious?”

“That’s what it says!” he replied, holding the letter out to me.

I took it, scanning the words myself. The handwriting was shaky, almost desperate, and the whole thing sent a shiver down my spine. “Tom, this could be a prank. Or… I don’t know, shouldn’t we call the police?”

A woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels

A woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “This is our story now! We’re going to the house in the letter!”

“Tom!” I exclaimed. “We don’t even know if the house is still there—or if any of this is real!”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, standing up and grabbing his keys.

I sighed, holding the letter tightly. Tom was stubborn, and once he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. Against my better judgment, I grabbed my jacket.

A couple getting ready to leave | Source: Pexels

A couple getting ready to leave | Source: Pexels

“Fine,” I said, glaring at him. “But if this turns out to be nothing, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal,” he said, already halfway out the door.

The house stood before us like something out of an old ghost story—its paint chipped, windows cloudy, and the yard overgrown with weeds. “Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “this definitely fits the description of ‘rundown.’”

A rundown house | Source: Pexels

A rundown house | Source: Pexels

Tom grinned, unfazed by the eerie sight. “Come on, Katie. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back in the car,” I muttered.

The front door creaked as Tom pushed it open, revealing a dim, dusty interior. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, and the wooden floors groaned under each step. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls, and the shadows seemed to stretch endlessly.

An abandoned house | Source: Pexels

An abandoned house | Source: Pexels

Tom waved his flashlight around. “Let’s find the basement doors,” he said, his voice full of excitement.

“Sure,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder. “Let’s just ignore the fact that this place could collapse on us at any second.”

A woman in an abandoned house | Source: Freepik

A woman in an abandoned house | Source: Freepik

We found the basement doors exactly where the letter had said they would be. They were old and heavy, their brass handles tarnished with age. Tom knelt down and began tapping on the floorboards near the doors.

“This better not be a wild goose chase,” I said, crossing my arms.

A man searching the floor | Source: Midjourney

A man searching the floor | Source: Midjourney

“Trust me,” Tom replied, grinning as he pried up a loose board. His eyes lit up as he pulled out an old, rusty key. “Jackpot.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting with a mix of fear and curiosity. “Are we really doing this?”

Without answering, Tom slid the key into the lock. It resisted for a moment before finally turning with a loud click. He gave me a triumphant look before pulling the doors open.

A man holding a rusty key | Source: Pexels

A man holding a rusty key | Source: Pexels

The hinges groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the house. A rush of stale, cold air hit us, carrying the scent of dirt and something faintly metallic.

“After you,” I said, gesturing toward the dark abyss.

Tom laughed nervously. “Ladies first?”

“No way.”

An old rusty door | Source: Pexels

An old rusty door | Source: Pexels

He started down the narrow staircase, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. I followed closely, clutching the railing as the wooden steps creaked under our weight. The basement was damp, with cobwebs hanging from the low ceiling. They were so dense they almost looked like curtains. Dust floated in the air, glinting in the flashlight’s beam.

Tom shined the light across the room, revealing dusty shelves and piles of old boxes. “Let’s look around,” he said.

An old basement | Source: Pexels

An old basement | Source: Pexels

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I muttered, brushing a cobweb off my sleeve.

As we scanned the basement, something on the far wall caught my eye—a folded piece of paper pinned to a wooden beam. “Tom,” I said, pointing.

He hurried over and pulled it free. “It’s another letter!”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Maybe we should think about this.”

A folded note | Source: Midjourney

A folded note | Source: Midjourney

But Tom was already unfolding the paper. His flashlight beam danced across the handwritten words as he read aloud:

“Looking for easy money? Hahaha. The only thing true in my letter was that my friends called me THE JOKER! Hahaha.”

Tom’s voice trailed off, and we stared at each other in stunned silence.

A man reading a note | Source: Freepik

A man reading a note | Source: Freepik

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I finally said, throwing up my hands. “All of this—for a prank?!”

Tom let out a laugh, one of those uncontrollable ones that you get when you’re both frustrated and amazed. “It’s kind of brilliant, don’t you think?”

As we made our way back to the car, an elderly man emerged from the neighboring house, leaning on a cane. He waved and shuffled toward us.

An elderly man outside of his house | Source: Pexels

An elderly man outside of his house | Source: Pexels

“You two find what you were looking for?” he asked, his voice raspy but kind.

“Not exactly,” Tom replied. “Do you know who used to live here?”

The man smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, you must’ve found one of Harold’s little pranks.”

“Harold?” I asked.

Smiling elderly man | Source: Pexels

Smiling elderly man | Source: Pexels

“Yep,” the man said with a chuckle. “Harold lived here for decades. We all called him ‘The Joker.’ He was always pulling stunts—fake treasure maps, phony letters, stuff like that. Kept us on our toes. Died about five years ago, though.”

I glanced at Tom, who was grinning ear to ear. “Sounds like he was quite the character.”

“Oh, he was,” the man said. “Always said life was too short to take seriously. Looks like he got you two good!”

A laughing man in a black suit | Source: Pexels

A laughing man in a black suit | Source: Pexels

We laughed with him, and for a moment, I could almost picture Harold, somewhere out there, having a good chuckle at our expense.

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: A freezing night and a simple act of kindness brought a homeless man named Jeff into Ellie’s home and her life. But as their bond grew, an unexpected discovery unraveled secrets from the past.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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