“What?” My daughter’s voice rose. “Dad, you’re heartless! You’d rather let your grandson die than help?”

My son-in-law piled on, his voice cracking. “He’s twelve! How can you just watch him suffer? And that house—you owe us a share.”

They shouted loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the office.

“When have I ever refused to help you?” I clenched my fists. “But now the house is mortgaged, my bank account is empty, and the bank claims I’ve been paying a thirty-year loan I knew nothing about. I can’t even afford your mother’s medical bills.”

Bang! My daughter slammed her teacup down, her tone icy. “If you don’t want to help, just say so. Stop playing the victim. My brother and I took out loans to buy that house—you never spent a penny. How could you even have a mortgage? And with your pension and Mom’s combined, you can’t possibly be broke.”

My son-in-law’s eyes filled with tears. “Dad, I’m begging you. Save your grandson.”

The murmurs around the office turned into open criticism.

“What kind of man wouldn’t pay for his wife’s surgery or his grandson’s life?”

“If you don’t want to pay, you could at least mortgage the house, right? After all, you didn’t buy it yourself.”

“Why do people get more heartless with age?”

Their words hit like stones. The scene was painfully familiar—an echo of the cyberbullying from my past life. My chest tightened, my hands trembled.

It didn’t matter what I said—my daughter and son-in-law would twist my words into lies.

“Mr. Harry isn’t that kind of person,” Vivienne stepped in to defend me.

But her voice was immediately drowned out. My daughter narrowed her eyes. “Did you scam my dad out of his money?”

Gasps rippled through the office.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” I shot back. “She’s already returned every cent I ever gave her. How could she possibly take my money?”

I wanted to protect Vivienne from the mob, but my daughter’s voice rose again. “Dad, she’s bewitched you!”

The door burst open. My son strode in, shoving his wife inside. “Little sister, you’ve got three million followers online—let’s expose her today!”

At once, my daughter whipped out her phone, pointing the camera at us. “Dad, stop pretending. If people start insulting you online, that’s your problem.”

“You…” My fists clenched. My eyes burned. I tilted my head toward the ceiling. “What sin have I committed to raise such heartless children?”

I’d braced myself for this moment, but reliving it still stabbed deep. Decades of raising them alone, only for them to turn into my executioners—this time, not just online, but in front of strangers.

The livestream went live. My son started his performance. “This man is my dad. When my sister and I returned from studying abroad, we didn’t have much money, so we took out a loan to buy him a luxury retirement home. And now? My mom’s sick, my nephew’s in a car accident, my business failed, I’m drowning in debt. We’re desperate. All we asked was for him to sell the house to help us out. We’d buy him another one later. But he refuses. What kind of father does that?”

Tears streamed down his face.

The comments exploded—insults pouring in faster than I could read.

“The bank just sent proof,” Vivienne announced, holding up her phone. “Mr. Harry’s account is empty. He’s been paying a mortgage for thirty years, and the house is already mortgaged to someone else.”

The room fell silent—then erupted again.

“Dad, that’s even worse!” my son barked. “Who have you been paying the mortgage for? Who did you mortgage the house to?”

“What are you hiding from us?” my daughter snapped.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“How could you not know?” My wife’s voice cracked as she turned on Vivienne. “On the surface, you’re just the poor student he sponsors. In reality, you’re his mistress. Don’t think I don’t know.”

The words sliced through me. For decades, I had kept my vows—never raising my voice, caring for her through everything, cooking, cleaning, holding her through sickness. And this… this was what I got in return.

“Vivienne!” My son-in-law’s face twisted with rage. “You scheming slut! Give back our family’s property, or I’ll destroy you!”

My daughter glared at me. “Dad, you abandoned your family for a mistress, didn’t you? You’re just going to watch your grandson die?”

My son kicked the chair aside, his voice cracking with fury. “How could you do this? Is this how you treat your own family?”

The livestream erupted. The office around us buzzed with venom.

“Ungrateful old man! Using the house your kids bought to keep a mistress? Disgusting!”

“Lustful old geezer, greedy little tramp—perfect match!”

“An old man who abandons his wife and kids deserves to be hit by a car. Makes me sick!”

The insults blurred together until my head spun.

“Do you have a shred of evidence that Mr. Harry and I had an affair?” Vivienne’s cheeks burned red.

“Hmph! You keep showing up at our house—that’s proof enough! No shame at all!” My daughter lunged forward. “I’ll beat you to death!”

My son raised his hand to strike her.

“Stop!” I shouted, stumbling to my feet, limping to block him—only to be shoved hard to the floor.

My head cracked against the table’s corner, pain shooting through my skull, numbing my limbs.

My daughter and son-in-law didn’t even glance down. They stepped over me, seized Vivienne by the hair, and pummeled her.

“Stop… stop it…” My voice was hoarse. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t obey.

Through the haze, I saw my wife sobbing—yet smiling faintly.

“Mr. Harry!”

“Vivy!”

Jonas burst through the door, shoving my son aside. His voice was icy. “I’ve uncovered everything. The mortgage Mr. Harry has been paying for thirty years—it’s for the retirement home you bought!”