“Okay, Dad. I understand. But before I go, there’s one thing I want to ask you.”

My voice was steady and composed. “When Leroy graduates, will you treat him the same way you’re treating me now?” I paused. “Will you kick him out too, hand him two hundred dollars and tell him to make it on his own?”

For a moment, the living room fell into the deathly silence.

My father froze, then his face darkened with rage.

Leroy’s smile stiffened; he instinctively straightened his back.

Then Linda’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“Leo Crowe! How could you say something like that? What does this have to do with your brother?”

Like a provoked lion, my father lunged forward.

“You ungrateful brat!”

He didn’t slap me this time. Instead, he snatched my suitcase from my hand with a violent tug. Then, as if tossing out the trash, he hurled it with all his strength through the open manor door. The suitcase hit the cement ground outside with a dull thud.

The latch popped open, and a few of my old, worn clothes fell down the steps.

“Get out! Get out of my sight right now!” He was panting heavily, his chest heaving as he pointed toward the gate.

“I don’t have a son like you!”

Leroy raised his phone to take pictures, his face glowing with amusement, like he was watching the best show of his life.

Linda gently rubbed my father’s back, pretending to comfort him.

“Calm down, Wayne, don’t let anger gets you. It’s bad for your health and it’s not worth it,” she said in sugary tone. “He’s young and impulsive—doesn’t know the world better. We can always make him learn later…”

But I noticed the smug look in her eyes.

Silently, I gathered my scattered clothes and picked up my college diploma. I brushed off the dust clinging to its cover, then gripped the two crumpled hundred-dollar bills tightly in my hand. With my back straight and head held high, I walked away from that grand, luxurious house that had never had warm in it.

Behind me, my father’s furious shouts still echoed, mixed with Linda’s fake words of comfort—

and muffled laughter from Leroy that he could no longer hold back.

The iron gate of the manor slowly swung shut behind me with a heavy clang, sealing off that different world from mine.

The sunlight was little harsh; I squinted, looking toward the city skyline in the distance, watching the endless flow of cars and people.

This time, I wouldn’t live like I did in my previous life—wandering aimlessly through the lowest depths of society, trading my life away for scraps with cheap labor.

Two hundred dollars. It was enough—enough to buy a train ticket back to my grandfather’s home.

If they didn’t want me living off the family, then for God’s sake, I wouldn’t.

***

After several hours of jolting travel, I finally arrived at the small village from my memories—a place filled with the scent of earth and the warmth of home.

Grandpa was sitting on a small wooden stool in the yard, rolling tobacco in his hands, while Grandma was busy in the kitchen.

Thin wisps of smoke rose from the stove, bringing the warm smell of home-cooked food.

“Leonard? Why are you here, child?” Grandpa looked up, surprise flashing in his wrinkled face, followed quickly by a look of concern. 

Hearing his voice, Grandma came rushing out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Her face lit up the moment she saw me.

“Oh my, my grandson is here!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with joy. “You must be starving. Come in, come in! I’ll make you your favorite scrambled eggs!”

Seeing the genuine happiness on their faces, a warmth spread through my chest and my nose stung with the urge to cry.

As they kept piling food onto my plate, Grandpa and Grandma asked gently, their eyes full of curiosity about the real reason behind my homecoming.

I told them everything—exactly as it happened, without adding or leaving anything out.

Grandma’s eyes reddened immediately.

“You poor thing…”she said, clutching my hand tightly. “You dad has lost his mind!”

Grandpa had been silent the whole time; but his expression grew darker and darker, the veins on the back of his hands bulging beneath his thin skin.

When I mentioned the words my father had said—“If he can’t make something of himself, I won’t acknowledge him as my son”—Grandpa slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang.

“That brat!”

He shot up from his chair, chest heaving with anger.

“I see he’s grown some backbone now! How dare he treat you like that? This cannot go on…” He pulled out his old phone and dialed my father’s number.

The moment the call connected, he roared into the receiver.

“Wayne Thompson Crowe! You get your ass back here right now! I don’t care if you’re in the middle of meeting, you dropped it and drive here this instant!”

Whatever my father tried to say on the other end, Grandpa didn’t give him the chance—he hung up straight away.

A few hours later, my father’s Maybach pulled up in front of Grandpa’s house.

He stepped out, frowning, clearly impatient.

“Dad, I’ve got things to handle at the company. What’s so urgent? What’s this about?”

When his eyes landed on me sitting beside my grandparents, his expression shifted—first irritation, then realization.

“What’s this about?” Grandpa repeated; fought to keep his anger in check. “How could you treat your own son like that?

“He just graduated from college and you kicked him out with two hundred bucks? Are you out of your mind?”

A flicker of guilt crossed my father’s face, but he quickly straightened his back and spoke self-righteously.

“Dad, I did this for his own good! It’s called adversity education—the most popular teaching method abroad! He’s twenty-two, an adult. You expect him to just keep sponging off me? In other countries, kids move out at eighteen. I’m already being generous!”

He sounded like he was giving a lecture, so sure of himself.

Grandma shot him a sharp look. “Adversity education, my foot! I bet it was that snake woman, Linda, who told you to do this. She can’t stand Leo and you just went along with her to mistreat my grandson!”

Father’s face changed instantly. “Mom! What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with Linda—it was my decision! For the record, Leroy’s my son too. I’ll treat them both the same way!”

He said it firmly, as if he truly believed it.

But he seemed to forget how furious he’d been just yesterday when I mentioned Leroy.

“Same way? Oh, what a fair father you are!” Grandpa let out a cold laugh, dripping with sarcasm and disappointment.

“I see you’ve grown smart Wayne. You’ve learned new stuff—using ‘independence’ nonsense to justify treating your own son unfairly!”

Grandpa stood, his sharp eyes locked on my father.

“Since you think grown children shouldn’t depend on their parents and should stand on their own—fine. But first, let me ask you: how old are you now?”

“Fifty-three… But what does that have to do with this?” Father froze, not understanding where this was going.

“Fifty-three, huh? That’s three decades away from twenty-two!” Grandpa’s voice suddenly boomed. “You keep saying Leo shouldn’t live off of you—but what about you?

“That manor you live in, the three commercial buildings you collect rent from every month, the startup capital for your company—did you earn any of those yourself? Weren’t they all built from my hard work back in the day?”

Father’s face turned pale in an instant.

Sensing where this was headed, he stammered, “Dad, that’s… that’s different! I’m your son! Those properties will all be mine eventually—”

“Eventually?” Grandpa cut him off coldly. “There is no ‘eventually.’ The future isn’t fixed. You say a young man relying on his parents is shameful and should be independent? Very well then. I will treat you that way. Starting today, I’ll inform the tenants to transfer all rent directly to your mother’s account.”

“And I’m taking it back the manor you’re living in!”

“You three can pack your things and move out. From now on, live on your own ways!”

Those words struck like thunder on a clear day. My father froze, his face drained of color.

The pretense of his so-called ‘parenting method’ shattered instantly. Panic and disbelief spread across his face.

“Dad! You can’t do this!” he shouted.

“I’m your only son! How could you take everything back? How are we supposed to live now? Even the company’s cash flow depends on the rent!”

He stumbled forward, voice full of desperation and confusion, completely different from the confident man who had been preaching about independence just minutes ago.

Grandpa looked at him with growing disappointment, his gaze colder than ever.

“Only son? Now you remember you’re my son? When you kicked my grandson out, did you remember that? You’re in your fifties, forcing your newly graduated son to live on his own, while you live comfortably off your old man’s money! Don’t you have any shame, Wayne?” His voiced cracked with deep disappointment.

“Get out! Leave this house right now! Go live your life ‘independently’!”

My father froze in place, his face shifting from pale to green, then to red.

He glanced at Grandpa’s icy expression, then at Grandma’s tearful yet resolute eyes.

Finally, his gaze fell on me.

His eyes were complicated—filled with anger, resentment and perhaps, somewhere deep down, a hint of regret.

The air was thick with silence.

“Dad, Mom, I... I was wrong,” he finally said, his voice dry and forced, deliberately softening.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have treated Leo that way.”

Grandpa stared at him coldly, saying nothing. Grandma turned away, wiping the corners of her eyes.

Sensing the tension, my father quickly turned to me.

“I’m sorry, Leo. I just wanted you to succeed—I didn’t realize that I pushed you too hard. Please don’t take it to heart, okay? I’ll do better, I promise.” His tone was sincere, his expression full of regret.

But I remembered everything from my past life.

It was raining hard that night. I was riding my electric bike when a sudden sharp pain hit my chest. I lost control and fell on the side of the road.

My vision blurred, rain mixed with mud filling my nose and mouth. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw a familiar black Maybach slowly passing by. Traffic forced it to slow down—it even stopped five meters away at a red light.

The window rolled down and our eyes met.

My father’s eyes swept over me casually. No pause. No confusion. Not even a flicker of emotion. Just like seeing a dying stray dog by the roadside. Then the window rolled up again and as the light turned green, the car drove away.

So now, hearing his so-called apology, all I felt was disgust.

He wasn’t admitting fault—he was surrendering because Grandpa had cut off his money.

Once the crisis passed, he’d go back to being the same man as before—probably even worse after the humiliation he received today.

Unfortunate to me, Grandpa and Grandma’s hearts softened in the end.

Grandpa snorted. 

“Now you realize you were wrong? Where was that sense before?” Grandpa snorted. 

“This is the last time! If you dare mistreat my grandson again, I’ll write my will and donate everything immediately, you won’t get a single penny! You hear me, Wayne?” Grandpa warned. 

My father looked relieved, nodding over and over.

“Yeah, of course! I’ll change, I promise! Don’t worry, Dad!”

Before we left, I told Grandpa I wanted to stop by the store at the end of the village. He agreed to walk with me.