"Grandpa, you're playing favorites!"
"You've got ten million dollars anyway—either pay for the treatment yourself, or don't blame your eldest son for being heartless!"
"Exactly! If not him, make your second son pay!"
Dad's eyes went red.
"He's still just a kid. How could I ask him for money?"
I let out a cold laugh.
I shoved Harry aside and walked out without looking back.
Once I left the hospital, I headed for my rental apartment.
The Audi I'd saved up for five years ago—that was gone too, sold off over the years to cover Dad's medical bills.
I stumbled onto the subway in a daze.
My phone buzzed with a message from Dad:
You're just leaving like that? Abandoning your father alone in the hospital? They're already trying to discharge me.
I was exhausted beyond words.
Don't you have money? Just pay the bill.
Absolutely not! Your brother has so many expenses ahead of him! That money is for him!
Then go home and wait to die.
I never knew I was capable of saying something so vicious.
The moment I hit send, I broke down sobbing.
Everyone around me turned to stare.
I couldn't bring myself to care.
These past few years, I'd lost my job. My savings. My car.
All because of some pathetic hope—a fantasy that I could mend our relationship before he died.
That I could make him see I wasn't the inheritance-grubbing disappointment my brother painted me as.
That I could make him remember I was his son too.
But in the end, none of that seemed to matter to him.
He knew I wouldn't actually abandon him.
He had nothing to fear.
By the time I got off the subway, my eyes were swollen and raw.
I unlocked my door—and froze.
The apartment was packed with people.
"Third Uncle? Aunt? Uncle...? What are you all—"
I stared at the crowd of relatives in disbelief.
At the center of it all sat Dad, sighing dramatically.
He clutched his phone.
"I never thought... after raising him all those years... he'd actually tell me to go die."
"He abandoned me and ran off ten years ago. Not a single day has passed that I haven't thought about him."
"When he came back to take care of me, I thought he'd finally remembered what family meant. But the moment he heard his brother was getting a bigger share of the inheritance, he turned around and told me to die."
"How much longer do I even have? He couldn't even keep up the act for that long!"
I pulled out my phone.
The family group chat—the one I'd muted ages ago—had 99+ unread messages.
I scrolled up. The very first one was a screenshot Dad had posted.
Our conversation.
Go home and wait to die.
The words burned.
"Merlin Dickerson, your father left this world early—without him, do you think you'd have grown up at all?"
"Apologize to your father right now! If we hadn't rushed over, he would've jumped off the building!"
"Merlin, you've been gone for ten years. Your brother has spent far more time with your father than you have. You don't fulfill your duties as a son, yet you want a bigger share of the money? How can anyone be this heartless!"
Dad let out another long, weary sigh.
"It's fine. It's fine. After all these years, I've made my peace with it."
"If he doesn't want to acknowledge me as his father, that's his choice. I've done everything I could for him. If my own son won't take care of me—well, I'd rather not be a burden anyway."
He rose shakily to his feet and lurched toward the window.
Everyone scrambled to hold him back.
"Merlin Dickerson! Get on your knees! The Dickerson family has no room for ungrateful wretches like you!"
"If you don't kneel and apologize, don't ever call yourself a Dickerson again! Your father is a good man—we won't let you drag his name through the mud!"
"After you apologize, take your father back to the hospital and care for him properly. The whole family will be watching!"
