Chapter 4
537words
The first one I played featured theatrical sobbing:
"Oh, dear family, what terrible sin have we committed! The son we sacrificed everything for went and got married in secret today! Not a word to his own parents! My heart is shattered!"
The second cranked up the drama: "His poor brother needed help with a house down payment, and he not only refused but threatened to abandon us! His father's blood pressure spiked—he's practically on his deathbed!"
The third was a direct hit job: "It's all that woman's doing! Ever since he met Emma, he's changed! Now he's turned his back on his own flesh and blood!"
The family chat erupted like a volcano.
Aunt Linda pounced first: "Michael, have you lost your humanity? Your parents wasted their lives on you!"
Uncle Dave jumped in: "Get home and beg for forgiveness on your knees! Otherwise you're no nephew of mine!"
Cousin Tyler fired off angry emojis: "That Emma woman is clearly poison. Divorce her before it's too late!"
Aunt Sarah tagged me directly: "Send that money to your mother NOW or I'll show up at your workplace and show everyone what kind of son you really are!"
The screen flooded with messages, each one more venomous than the last.
I took a deep breath and found myself smiling.
They still thought they could control me this way.
Unfortunately for them,
those days were over.
I wasn't their doormat anymore.
I typed a single line:
"Since you're all so invested in my family business, let me give you the complete picture."
Then,
I launched my counteroffensive.
First salvo:
I uploaded my college entrance exam scores alongside Harvard's admission cutoff.
I circled my score in red—15 points above the threshold.
Next came bank records showing every penny I'd sent home during college, timestamps and all.
The chat fell eerily silent.
For my second volley, I pressed harder:
Jason's Australian university bills—$400,000 over four years.
Every transfer I'd made to Jason's account—nearly $200,000 total.
Screenshots of Jason's Instagram posts flaunting luxury cars and designer watches, dated right after my transfers hit his account.
Finally, proof of the monthly support I'd been sending my parents.
With a simple caption: "This is what they call 'abandoning my family.'"
Private messages started trickling in, relatives asking if all this was really true.
I took my time crafting my final message:
Dear self-appointed judges:
I've saved every single insult you've hurled at me today.
Since you're all such champions of family duty,
let me ask you a few questions:
Aunt Linda, when your son got married, did you demand your daughter chip in?
Uncle Dave, when you bought your son's house outright, did you bill your daughter for her share?
Tyler, how much did you contribute to your brother's down payment?
Aunt Sarah, if family duty matters so much, why don't YOU transfer the $300,000?
One last thing: I've documented every slanderous comment about my wife. Attack Emma again, and I'll see you in court.
I hit send and left the chat in one swift motion.
I thought that would be the end of it.
But the next morning, my phone rang. Jason.
