"Oh, really?!"
Wanda choked on her own words.
I let out a cold laugh.
"You say I'm your child, but when have you ever treated me like a son?
"All these years, the only thing you've done is tell me to step aside for Francis—your precious fake heir with his shares and his dividends. What else have you ever given me?"
Roger and Wanda frowned.
Bernice glanced at me with a flicker of surprise.
My smile turned bitter.
"You give me nothing, then blame me for fighting. For grabbing at scraps.
"You want me to be generous? Then put your money where your mouth is!"
The room went dead silent.
I scoffed.
"If you won't, then save your apologies. Save your kneeling.
"You don't deserve to."
"Stop right there!"
Roger and Wanda called out as I turned to leave.
"Fifty million. It's yours. But you get on your knees and apologize to Francis. Right now."
Ha.
These clueless parents.
Even when giving their real son his share, it was still about keeping their precious fake heir happy.
I turned back.
"Fine. While you're at it—
"Sign this."
An irrevocable gift agreement.
Stipulating that no matter what happened in the future, the money could never be reclaimed.
Roger and Wanda signed.
Then tossed the pen aside.
"Figures. Years out on the streets turned you into nothing but a schemer."
I didn't take the bait.
Because.
Fifty million dollars had just hit my account.
I knelt in front of Francis.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Three solid bows, forehead to the floor.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong."
I stood up.
Ignored their stares.
Walked out of the house without looking back.
As I passed Bernice, she seemed like she wanted to say something.
I didn't lift my head. Just kept walking.
Her outstretched hand froze in midair.
A phone rang.
It was the police.
"That missing person you reported three years ago—Abraham Harding, correct?
"We found him."
