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Then he had to read the whole thing three times because his brain refused to process the words. Will not be renewed. Vacate the property.
January 31, 2024. “What the hell?” he whispered. He immediately looked up the phone number at the bottom of the email and dialed.
“Yes.
Hello. This is Matthew Vega.” His voice sounded tense. “I just received an email about the termination of my lease agreement.
It must be a mistake. I have always paid on time. I have never had problems with—”
“One moment, Mr.
Vega. Let me check your file.”
Matthew heard the tapping of a keyboard. Each second felt like an eternity.
“Mr. Vega, there is no mistake. The owner has decided not to renew the contract.
It is their legal right according to clause 12.3 of your agreement.”
“I don’t have that information, sir. We only execute the owner’s decisions.”
“Who is the owner?” Matthew asked, feeling panic climb up his throat.
“I need to talk to them. This makes no sense.”
“That information is confidential. If you wish to appeal the decision, you may send a formal written request to our office on Park Avenue.”
“Park Avenue.” Matthew frowned.
“I know that office. It’s near where I work.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Of course.
When the property is available again, you can apply like any other applicant. The current market price for that unit is approximately $3,800 a month.”
Matthew almost dropped the phone. “Three thousand eight hundred?
But I pay—”
“You pay $1,400, Mr. Vega. A preferential price that will no longer apply.”
The line went dead.
Matthew sat there staring at his phone screen. $3,800. His monthly salary was $2,800 after taxes.
It was mathematically impossible. “Matthew?” Audrey appeared in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in an expensive silk robe. “Why are you yelling?”
“We’re being evicted,” he said in a hollow voice.
“We have to be out of the apartment before January 31st.”
Audrey blinked as if he had spoken a foreign language. “No. That can’t be.
This is your apartment.”
“It’s rented,” Matthew muttered. “It always has been.”
“But you pay on time. You have rights as a tenant.
They can’t just—”
“Yes, they can.”
And they did. Audrey walked over and read the email over Matthew’s shoulder. Her face changed from confusion, to disbelief, and then to fury.
“This is because of last night, isn’t it? Your mother did this. Somehow she convinced the owner to— I don’t know.”
Matthew ran his hands through his hair.
“I don’t know, but I need to find out.”
He grabbed his jacket and the Cadillac keys. “Where are you going?”
“To the Vega Properties office. I’m going to talk to someone face to face.
This cannot be happening.”
12:30 p.m. — Vega Properties Office
Matthew parked the Cadillac in a nearby parking garage—$4.50 an hour, a small fortune he usually didn’t care about—and walked quickly toward the building on Park Avenue. He had never been there before.
The façade was elegant, modernist, with high windows and wrought-iron balconies. A discrete plaque next to the entrance read: Vega Properties LLC, Third Floor. He climbed the stairs two at a time.
When he reached the reception desk, a young woman greeted him with a professional smile. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
“I need to speak with the director, the manager—whoever makes the decisions here,” Matthew said, trying to remain calm.
“I’m a tenant and I just received a termination notice that makes no sense. My name is Matthew Vega.”
The receptionist checked something on her computer, and her expression changed slightly—almost imperceptibly, but Matthew noticed it. “One moment, please.”
She stood up and disappeared down a hallway.
Continue reading…
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