My Rental Went Viral, So My Landlord Took It Back and Lost Everything

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My bed-and-breakfast blew up online, and my landlord showed up at the door with a crowd the same day.

He said the house was his, and I had to move out.

Couldn't strip the renovations, couldn't take my customers, and the lease meant nothing.

"Some out-of-town nobody thinks he gets to make money on our turf?"

In the merchants' group chat, Miles Sullivan the diner owner led the pile-on.

"Stick with the landlord and there's meat on the table."

Arthur Lawrence, the guy renting bikes, sent a cash gift with a note attached: "Get lost, outsider."

Every one of them had gotten rich off my inn. Now they were all here to cut off my livelihood.

I didn't argue. I didn't make a scene.

I locked the front door and packed the contract, the one with the clause: "Breach means double the rent returned."

Then I sent a message to Willow Hollow, the next village over.

"I'll take all five old houses. Moving in tonight."

1

My bed-and-breakfast went viral on short video.

Over a million likes.

Bookings ran three months out.

That morning, I'd just paid out bonuses to my five employees.

That afternoon, my landlord Rick Hansen showed up and blocked the entrance with a crew.

"Owen Yates, I'm not renting this place to you anymore."

"Move out."

The house had sat abandoned for over a decade. Half the roof had caved in, and the weeds in the yard grew taller than a man.

Three thousand a year, and nobody even came to look.

I was the one who signed a ten-year lease and sank every cent of my savings into it.

I clawed this place back out of the ruins, brick by brick.

And built it into a heritage-style inn that could blow up online.

"Rick, we have a contract."

"A contract?"

He laughed, and the young guys behind him laughed along.

"The house is mine. I take it back whenever I want. What's a contract worth?"

"I'll give you two options. Either you clear out fast."

"Or I make sure you can't run this place at all."

The tourists watching at the door started taking pictures.

"Why's there people causing trouble at a bed-and-breakfast?"

"That's way too sketchy. Somebody should post a warning online."

Soon there were all kinds of avoid-this-place posts about the inn going up.

Not long after, my manager Ethel Fox came by. She'd been with me three years, a local, the earliest employee I had.

She showed me the chat log from the local group, the one where Rick and his people had been talking.

Rick Hansen:

"Some out-of-town nobody thinks he can make money in our village?"

"House is fixed up, the customer base is steady. Perfect timing for my son to take over."

"He won't play nice, then we do it the hard way."

Miles, who ran the country diner, chimed in too.

"Right. This inn charges a thousand a night, makes money off East Village land, and gives the village what, exactly?"

Rick sent a smiley face.

"Once I take it back, none of the gravy leaves the family."

Thomas Fernandez, the old man selling local goods, joined in.

"You can't fight the guys with the muscle. He's an outsider. Let him swallow it quietly and learn his lesson. Serves him right."

Because the inn went viral, the nearby villagers had all found buyers for their free-range chickens, their mountain goods, their bamboo crafts.

Miles renovated his own yard to open the diner, Thomas started selling local specialties. Every one of them got rich off my inn.

They'd all found a way to make a living. And now they were coming to cut off mine.

Ethel said, torn:

"Owen, what do we do now?"

"Rick just went around to a few of us locals at home, saying we're biting the hand that feeds us."

"Said if we keep working for you, they'll break our windows."

Looked like Rick was dead set on pushing people around.

I said:

"Ethel, call in all the staff."

"Hand over everything here, all the records."

"Give the house back to Rick."

Ethel froze.

"Owen, the inn just started turning a profit. We finally have income coming in, and now we…"

I cut her off.

"We're moving. Pack everything up."

Ethel had no choice but to go tell the others.

I sent the lease over to a classmate of mine who works as a lawyer.

Then I opened my phone and pulled up the info on Willow Hollow, the next village over.

Paul Whitney, a villager from Willow Hollow, had reached out to me before.

"Owen, we've got a few old houses over here too."

"If you'd come develop your business with us and help boost the local trade, three years' rent, free."