He Doubled My Rent,So I Moved My Empire and Watched Him Beg

After graduation I stayed down South and started my own company. It grew from three people to more than eight hundred.

This year we landed a big contract. Everyone had ground through three straight months to get it done, so I made the call and gave every single employee a thousand-dollar raise.

The day after the raise notice went out, the landlord called.

"Maddie," he said. "Rent's going up a hundred grand a month starting next month. Get ready for it."

I froze. Five years ago this had been empty lots, cheap to rent, which was exactly why I'd planted the company here.

In those five years the company had scaled up step by step, and the rent had gone up no fewer than ten times.

Every time, I'd gritted my teeth and paid it, telling myself family was family, that I owed him the courtesy, that at least my people wouldn't have to deal with a move.

But this time. I kept the anger down and tried to reason with him.

"Rents all over this area are dropping. You know the market better than I do. A hundred grand a month makes no sense."

"Market's bad, huh? You hand out a thousand a head to eight hundred-plus employees, but when it comes to me suddenly you can't spare it?"

He gave a cold little laugh. "Don't like the price, move out. My spot's hot property now. All the amenities have gone up around here. Who needs you?"

I looked at how certain he was that I'd cave, and all at once I went calm.

"Fine. We'll move."

I hung up, looked out the window at this whole business district, and laughed under my breath. Ninety percent of the foot traffic here rode on the backs of my employees.

Soon enough he'd learn who really couldn't do without whom around here.

...

My assistant, Ramona James, works fast. Less than three minutes after the notice went out, the company group chat blew up.

A hundred messages piled in at once.

"What does this mean? How can we just move, out of nowhere?"

"Ms. Rowe, is something wrong with the company? Cash flow trouble?"

An old-timer wrote, "Ms. Rowe, this is where we got our start. I'm attached to this place..."

The chat went quiet for two seconds, then instantly flooded with people chiming in.

"Right, my kid's school is right next door. If we move, what am I supposed to do..."

I stared at the screen for a long time, then typed:

"Nothing's wrong. Details to follow."

Word traveled faster than I expected.

By noon that day, the commercial street downstairs had blown up too.

First the guy who ran the fast-food place came rushing up, planting himself at the front desk and refusing to leave, tugging at Ramona.

"Are you really moving? I heard about it. Is it true?"

Ramona said a few soothing words and got him out the door.

Right after that Max Lawrence, from the convenience store, messaged me directly:

"Ms. Rowe, I hear you're moving? Then what happens to us? I just restocked..."

Then the coffee shop, and even the owner of the noodle place I'd once helped out, all worked their way around to asking me through other people.

Word reached the merchants' group chat.

It's a chat I almost never post in, several hundred people, every business owner in the area in there.

At three in the afternoon, someone tagged me directly:

"Ms. Rowe, hear you're moving? What's going on, give us a straight answer."

I looked at the message, thought about it, and replied, "The landlord's hiking the rent. Can't afford it anymore."

The chat boiled over instantly.

"How much?"

"A hundred grand. A month."

"A hundred grand?! Has Dirk Dickerson lost his mind?"

"No way this location is worth that. Look how many office buildings around here are sitting empty..."

The merchants piled on the landlord all at once. Watching the screen, I felt something in my chest ease a little.

Then Dirk spoke up.

"What are you all so worked up about?"

"Madison Rowe hands out a thousand a head to eight hundred-plus employees, that's over eight hundred grand extra in payroll a month, but she can't spare me a hundred grand. You tell me who's out of line here?"