The Price of Free Rent

In the building’s WhatsApp group, Marcus Stone, the property manager, suddenly posted several messages:

【”Beauty Chic Rent-Free Offer”】

【All single female residents in this building are eligible for full rent waiver with this voucher.】

【Terms: Must perform all household duties for male residents, including but not limited to hand-washing undergarments.】

【Must keep bedroom doors unlocked overnight to facilitate “emotional connections” with male residents.】

【In the event of unintended pregnancy, all male residents will crowdfund baby formula and assist with childcare.】

The messages were followed by repulsive comments from male tenants:

【Marcus is such a legend—this’ll help the ladies save up for those designer purses.】

【Girls these days are too lazy to do chores anyway—this’ll be good exercise for ‘em.】

An agreement treating women like communal property and posted openly in the group chat?

I screenshotted everything and immediately called 91 I never expected that right after the police left, Marcus’s goons would kick in my door.

“Think you’re better than everyone else? Ruining the building’s vibe, huh?”

My belongings were scattered everywhere. My undergarments were kicked all the way down the hallway.

“Since you refuse to cooperate, you’re the new janitor! Get your ass to the storage closet. Every toilet in this building is your responsibility to scrub!”

After I’d dutifully cleaned the toilets for weeks, the property manager came crawling back, begging me to move back into a proper unit.

1. “Claire Bennett, I’m offering you a second chance.” He blew smoke rings in my face.

“The storage closet doesn’t have windows, but at least it’s private. I’ll waive your rent if you keep the bathrooms spotless daily.”

The male tenants nearby snickered and catcalled.

“Marcus is such a stand-up guy, still letting her crash here.”

“Women like her who don’t know when to keep their mouths shut deserve to be homeless.”

The speaker was Derek Walsh from apartment 302. His leering gaze always made my skin crawl.

I crouched down and picked up my belongings one by one.

My hand brushed against the shattered perfume bottle. Blood started oozing from the cut.

I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t shed a tear.

Showing vulnerability now would only egg them on more.

“What’s the matter? Got something to say?”

Seeing me stay silent, Marcus kicked over my storage bin.

My underwear spilled across the floor.

Derek picked up a lace bra, held it to his nose, and inhaled deeply.

“Fancy brand too. Smells just like a little slut.”

“Give that back to me!”

I lunged forward to grab it back.

Derek tossed the bra to the guy behind him.

They tossed my intimate clothes around like a game, cracking crude jokes the whole time.

“Want it back? Beg for it.”

Marcus blocked my way.

“Marcus, this is an illegal eviction.”

I locked eyes with him.

“I have a signed lease agreement. It’s legally binding. I still have six months left on it.”

“Agreement?”

Marcus pulled my lease out of his pocket and ripped it to pieces.

“In this building, I make the rules.”

“Either you move into that storage closet, or get the hell out with your garbage right now.”

“But let me warn you—no security deposit refund. And I’ll make sure every landlord in this neighborhood knows you’re a destructive tenant who trashed the unit.”

I work as an auditor. This is crunch time for my current project. I can’t afford to hunt for a new place right now—it would derail my work completely.

If I leave now, both my professional reputation and career could be ruined.

“Fine. I’ll take the storage closet.”

Marcus looked surprised that I caved so easily.

“Should’ve just cooperated from the start.”

“Everyone clear out. Let our new cleaning lady tidy this mess properly.”

They left snickering, leaving total chaos in their wake.

I gathered my trampled clothes and walked toward the storage closet at the end of the hallway.

The door had no lock—just a rusted latch.

Inside were stacks of discarded cardboard boxes. The air smelled like mildew and rot.

This was going to be my “home.”

I pulled out my phone and stared at a familiar profile picture.

Ryan Cooper. We went to college together. He lives in this building too.

Earlier, he’d stood at the back of the crowd, saying absolutely nothing.

I texted him: 【Why didn’t you say anything?】

After a long while, he finally responded:

【Claire, you overreacted. Marcus was just messing around. You had to call the cops and make everything awkward for everyone.】

I didn’t bother replying. I turned off my phone and tried to sleep.