"Exactly! You've gone too far!"
"Harry's always been the good one—he actually cares about Dad."
"Look how thin your father's gotten! And who do you think he's been suffering for?"
I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow.
"Right. I'm kicking out my own father. I'm the ungrateful son. But Dad—" I locked eyes with him. "Tell me. Who exactly have you been wasting away for? In over twenty years of your so-called sacrifice, was any of it ever for me?"
Dad dabbed at the corner of his eye. "How... how can you say that? If I wasn't doing it for you, then who?"
"Liar."
A mirthless smile twisted my lips.
"When I was eighteen, Harry told you I'd hit him. You didn't ask for my side of the story—you just slapped me across the face. Ten times. When I threatened to leave home, you know what you said?"
I paused, letting the silence stretch.
"You said if I had the guts, I should go die out there. You said one son was enough for you—and that son was Harry."
The color drained from Dad's face.
Harry Dickerson stepped forward, panicked. "Merlin, you can't just—"
"You don't get to speak."
I cut him off cold.
"Harry, I'm not going to dig up every time you've set me up over the years. But right now? You're the last person who gets to call me ungrateful."
My voice dropped, each word landing like a hammer.
"The only thing you did when Dad got sick was make one phone call. To me. And then what? For three years—three years—who do you think was here? Who paid for everything? Who gave up everything? Did you spend a single dollar? Lift a single finger? Pour your entire savings into keeping him alive?"
Harry looked away, unable to meet my eyes.
I let out a cold laugh.
"Three years without a single visit. But the moment there's an inheritance to collect, suddenly you're the devoted son?"
"That's enough!"
Dad's expression hardened. "Your brother didn't visit because he was preparing for graduate school! His concern for me never wavered—he messaged me every single day!"
His voice rose, trembling with indignation.
"But you? I always knew you only came back for the money. You disappear for years, then show up out of nowhere? You think I can't see right through you?"
The people around us shot me disapproving looks.
"Young man, don't burn your bridges. You can't put a price on family."
"Exactly. A father knows his son best. If your dad's leaving everything to Harry, it's because he knows exactly what kind of person you are. Probably all smiles to his face while stabbing him in the back."
Harry wiped at his reddened eyes, the picture of wounded innocence.
I smiled—a smile with no warmth in it—and turned back to Dad.
"He skipped out on caring for you because of grad school. Fine. But I quit my job for you. Does that count for nothing?"
The room went still.
Before anyone could react, I snatched the will from Harry's hands. Then I pulled out the stack of hospital bills I'd kept—three years' worth—and threw the whole pile into Dad's lap.
"I spent ten years saving up a million dollars. Every last cent went to you. You wouldn't even buy yourself a new towel—I thought you were barely scraping by. I sold everything I had to cover your medical bills."
My voice cracked, but I pushed through.
"And now I find out you had ten million this whole time. You were never struggling. You just wanted to make sure Harry got every penny."
"What?!"
Even the young woman supporting Dad's arm stared at him in disbelief.
I laughed again, the sound scraping against my throat.
"So what about me? I've given you a million dollars over the years. Do I deserve to die? Am I just supposed to be Harry's stepping stone?"
"Grandpa, you..."
The young woman picked up one of the receipts, her eyes wide as she looked at Dad.
"You had ten million dollars and didn't spend any of it? You just... bled your older son dry?"
"That's not—"
Dad started to explain, but someone from the next room had seen enough.
"Oh, give it a rest!" A woman stepped into the doorway, arms crossed. "I've watched Merlin run himself ragged for three years taking care of you. Three hours of sleep a night. Working harder than any hired nurse. Favoritism is one thing, but this is beyond the pale."
Every pair of eyes in the room turned back to Dad and Harry.
The looks had changed.
