Chapter 4After My Tenants Sued Me Into Bankruptcy, They Begged

The day of the hearing, the sky was a heavy, oppressive gray.

The courtroom gallery was packed.

There were tenants from The Haven, and reporters from several media outlets.

Elias didn’t hire a lawyer. He was representing the plaintiffs himself.

He wore a sharp, tailored suit, his hair perfectly coiffed.

He stood at the plaintiff’s podium, speaking with fluent confidence.

He presented the judge with a thick binder of evidence.

There were photos of the subdivided rooms, close-ups of the “questionable hygiene” in the cafeteria kitchen, and news articles he’d found online about the fire hazards of illegally modified apartments.

There was also a hundred-page document containing the joint testimony of all the tenants.

Each statement was written with heart-wrenching emotion.

They accused me of exploiting their naivete as recent graduates, luring them into “illegal” living conditions.

They accused me of using the gimmick of “free” amenities to provide “unsafe and unsanitary” food services.

They painted themselves as innocent lambs, deceived and exploited by a heartless landlord.

Elias’s closing statement was a masterpiece of inflammatory rhetoric.

“Your Honor, we are not here to make unreasonable demands. We are recent graduates who came to this city with dreams in our hearts. We hoped for a safe harbor, but what we found was a trap filled with lies and hidden dangers!”

“The defendant, Ms. Chen, built a reputation as a ‘Dream Landlord,’ basking in public praise while secretly engaging in illegal activities, putting the lives of over one hundred young people at risk!”

“What we demand is not monetary compensation! What we demand is justice under the law! What we demand is our right to safe housing!”

His voice was passionate, his gestures powerful.

In the gallery, his supporters looked on with expressions of profound emotion and outrage.

A few of the female reporters were already scribbling furiously in their notebooks.

When it was my lawyer’s turn, he presented the signed contracts and the Safety Disclosure Forms.

Elias immediately shot to his feet.

“Objection, Your Honor! As I’ve already argued, these so-called ‘disclosures’ are classic examples of invalid boilerplate clauses! The defendant used her position of power to impose an illegal living situation upon us and is now attempting to use these documents to absolve herself of legal responsibility. The law cannot allow this!”

My lawyer tried to argue, but Elias countered every point with more professional legal jargon, a more cunning line of logic.

The judge’s expression grew increasingly stern. His gaze, when it fell on me, turned to ice.

I knew I had lost.

I had lost from the very beginning.

This lawsuit, from start to finish, was a perfectly orchestrated play, directed by Elias.

A flawless siege, waged with the weapon of “the law” in the name of “justice.”

During the recess, I was smoking at the end of the hallway.

Elias walked over.

He stood before me, silhouetted against the light.

“Clara. It’s not too late to admit defeat. If you agree to our terms, we can withdraw the lawsuit immediately. It’s better for you, and for everyone.”

I looked at him.

“And if I don’t?”

He smiled.

“Then we will win. And you will lose everything.”

“The building will be shut down, and you’ll face massive fines. More importantly, your ‘Dream Landlord’ persona will be shattered. You will become the ‘slumlord’ in every media headline. Your reputation will be ruined.”

He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Everything you worked so hard to build will be destroyed. Is it worth it?”

I stubbed out my cigarette on the edge of the trash can.

“See you in court.”

I repeated the words.

His face darkened.

“You’re ungrateful.”

He spat the word out and turned away.