My New Tenant Sued Me, Not Knowing I’m Her CEO

I rented my house to a recent graduate from a top university, and on the night she moved in, she sent me a photo at midnight. In the picture, a single strand of hair was lying in the corner of the wall.

[Landlord, this hair isn’t mine. I think it’s DNA left by the last tenant. Could you please come clean it up?]

I was speechless for a moment but still replied politely, asking her to take care of it herself.

Half an hour later, she sent another photo, this time showing the reading from the faucet’s water test.

[Value: 158. It’s above the normal level. Drinking it long-term could harm the kidneys. Please come install a water filter tomorrow.]

That was the last straw for me, so I blocked her right away, thinking the matter was over.

But the next day, a package from her arrived. Inside was a thirty-page report titled Report on Potential Safety Hazards of the Residential Environment, along with a lawyer’s letter written in a very formal tone.

——

“Did you get it?”

Her calm, almost superior voice came through the phone. I held the lawyer’s letter tightly, and the edge of the paper cut into my palm.

“Skylar Griffin, what do you mean by this?”

“Nothing much,” she replied slowly. “Ms. Murphy, I’m only following the law to protect my rights as a tenant.”

“A thirty-page report and a lawyer’s letter, all because of one strand of hair and some tap water?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“It’s not a strand of hair,” she said calmly. “It’s a biological sample left by an unknown person. And it’s not just the faucet; it’s that the total dissolved solids in the water are over the safe limit. Drinking it long-term can increase the risk of illness.”

She paused for a moment. “Since this is your first mistake, if you refund the full rent and deposit, pay compensation for emotional distress, and renovate the entire place according to my report within three days, I’ll consider withdrawing the lawsuit.”

I laughed in disbelief. “And if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll see each other in court.”

“Ms. Murphy, just a reminder, my lawyer will apply to freeze your property and bank accounts. Also, I’ll send the full report about your ‘haunted house’ to everyone in the building, so they’ll all know they’re living in a place full of DNA contamination and heavy-metal pollution.”

After saying that, she hung up.

Listening to the busy tone on the phone, my head went blank. In all my thirty years, I had never met anyone this ridiculous.

I opened the PDF report she sent, Residential Environmental Safety Hazards and Tenant Health Risk Assessment Report.

Good grief. If someone didn’t know better, they’d probably think it came straight from a national research institute.

The contents of the report left me completely speechless.

[Risk No. 1: The bedroom floor has a small tilt of 0.01 degrees, which could cause spinal problems during sleep.]

[Risk No. 2: The indoor air’s PM2.5 concentration is 15. It meets national standards but is still higher than in the Swiss Alps, so a new ventilation system is recommended.]

[Risk No. 3: The Wi-Fi router’s radiation level at night goes over the safe limit for pregnant women and babies by 0.001%, which may affect sleep and brain health.]

Each point came with detailed data charts from measuring devices and included quotes from research papers, both local and foreign, as supporting evidence.

I let out a long breath and called my property manager.

“Manager Moore, have you met the new tenant in my apartment?”