“Whose office is this?” I asked.
Jessica came over.
“That’s David’s space. He’s my co-founder. But he’s not here today. We can use it.”
“He’s not here today or you kicked him out?”
“Sarah, stay out of this. This is my company, my space. I make the decisions.”
“Your space that you haven’t paid rent for in 3 months.”
“I’m paying today. I have the check right now. Once I pay, the landlord can’t say anything about how we use the space.”
“Actually, the lease specifies the space is for office use, not warehouse storage.”
“How would you know what the lease says?”
I paused. This was the moment.
“Because I own the building.”
The room went silent. Jessica stared at me.
“What?”
“Kim Property Holdings. That’s mine. I bought this building in 2019. You’ve been renting from me for 14 months.”
Her face went through several expressions. Disbelief.
“You own this building?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been letting me struggle, letting me stress about paying rent, threatening me with eviction.”
“You signed a lease with market rate rent. This is a business transaction.”
“I’m your sister and this is my investment property which you failed to pay rent on for 3 months because I was trying to save my company.”
“That’s not my problem. You have a legal obligation. You signed a contract.”
Jessica’s employee shifted uncomfortably.
“Should we step outside?”
“No,” Jessica said. “I want witnesses to this.”
She turned to me.
“So what? You’ve been spying on me, watching me struggle while you collect rent money?”
“I’ve been running a business. You’re a tenant. You pay rent or you get evicted. That’s how it works.”
“This is unbelievable. Our parents gave you $50,000 for college. Where do you think you got the money to buy an $8.7 million building?”
“I earned it from a startup acquisition. I invested it wisely. I built something.”
“You built something by being secretive and manipulative.”
“I built something by working hard and making smart decisions, which apparently you don’t respect.”
Jessica grabbed a box of my files from David’s desk, dumped them on the floor.
“Get your crap out of my office.”
“It’s not your office. It’s my building. We’re paying rent. As of today, we’re current, which means you can’t evict us and you can’t tell us how to use the space.”
“I can. The lease prohibits using the office as a storage facility. What you’re doing right now is a lease violation.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Completely. Either you move this inventory out or I start eviction proceedings based on lease violations instead of non-payment.”
Jessica walked toward me, got close. Her face was red.
“You know what your problem is? You’re so busy being clever and secretive that you forgot how to be human, how to be family. And you’re so busy playing entrepreneur that you forgot business has rules. Rent is due on the first of the month. Lease terms. None of that changes because we share DNA.”
“Move your crap,” Jessica suddenly yelled at David’s desk. She grabbed his laptop, his files, threw them into a box. “Work from Starbucks. We need this space for inventory.”
I watched her destroy someone’s workspace. Watched her unravel.
“I’m leaving,” I said calmly. “You have until end of business today to remove all non-office inventory from this space. If it’s still here tomorrow, you’re in violation of your lease. I’ll send you written notice.”
“Go ahead, send your notices. I have an investor meeting next week. They’re coming here. They need to see we’re real. I’m not moving anything.”
“Then you’ll be evicted.”
I walked out, took the elevator back to the first floor. David Chin was waiting.
“How did it go?”
“Send her a lease violation notice. Inventory storage is prohibited. She has 24 hours to comply or we proceed with eviction based on material breach of lease terms. Even though she’s paying the back rent, she missed the 3-month deadline. We already started eviction proceedings. The payment doesn’t cure the violation, and now she’s in violation of the use restrictions. Document everything.”
“Understood.”
I left the building, got in my car, drove back to my actual home, a three-bedroom condo in Sunnyvale worth $1.9 million that my family also didn’t know I owned. I said nothing. I left.
The next morning, April 17th, 2024, at 7:30 a.m., David sent the formal eviction notice via email and certified mail.
By 8:00 a.m., my phone had 63 missed calls and messages.
“Jessica, you can’t do this. Jessica, I’m bringing you the rent check today. Jessica, please. I’m begging you.”
“Mom, Sarah, what is going on? Jessica called crying.”
“Dad, call your sister. She’s in crisis. Jessica, my investor is coming Monday. Monday, I need the office. Jessica, how can you do this to family?”
I didn’t respond to any of them.
At 10:00 a.m., Jessica showed up at the building with a cashier’s check. David called me.
“She’s here with $43,200. Wants to pay rent and stay.”
“Too late. The eviction is proceeding. She has 30 days to vacate per the court order.”
“She’s crying in the lobby.”
“That’s unfortunate, but business is business.”
“Sarah, don’t. I know it looks harsh, but she’s had months to fix this. She made choices. Now she faces consequences.”
By noon, Mom was calling me every 15 minutes. I finally answered.
“Sarah, you need to stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“The eviction. Jessica showed up with rent money. You need to accept it.”
“The eviction is based on multiple factors now. Non-payment and lease violations. She turned the office into a storage facility.”
“So, she’s paying rent. 3 months late after ignoring multiple notices, and she’s using the space in violation of her lease terms.”
“Since when are you a heartless landlord?”
“Since I invested $8.7 million in a commercial property that requires professional management.”
“You own the building?”
