So when the time comes, I'll get a few apartments too. I'll sell them and pay you back that $50,000—principal plus interest. Fair enough?
So he already knew about the redevelopment.
They'd been scheming this all along.
My fingers flew across the screen. No more playing nice.
Jarvis, don't bother waiting for the redevelopment.
Keep the $50,000. Consider it the price of a lesson learned.
And stop calling me "sis." I don't have a brother like you.
Oh, and just so you know—Grandpa's house has nothing to do with your family. Not a single cent.
I hit send, then blocked him.
Then I pulled up Uncle Oliver and Aunt Vivien's numbers and blocked those too.
I drove straight to the office. That $50,000 was a write-off now—bad debt, emotionally and financially. What came next would be the real battle.
The call from reception came barely an hour into the afternoon shift. The receptionist's voice wavered.
"Director Finch, there are some people downstairs claiming to be your relatives. They're causing a scene in the lobby."
"Security won't let them up, so they're... they're shouting. Saying you—" She hesitated. "Saying you defrauded your own uncle out of his property."
"There's a crowd gathering. What should I do?"
My grip tightened on the receiver. My gaze went cold.
No need to guess. Oliver's family had seen my messages—or heard through the grapevine. Now they were here to make a scene, destroy my reputation, force my hand.
"Let them."
My voice was ice.
"Don't stop them. Let them scream all they want."
"And call the police. Tell them we have people causing a disturbance and disrupting business operations."
"Oh—and make sure the security footage is saved."
I hung up, straightened my blazer, and headed for the elevator.
You want to hand me your face on a silver platter? Fine. I'll slap it for you.
The elevator doors slid open.
There they were—Oliver, Vivien, and Jarvis—sprawled across the lobby floor, putting on a full theatrical performance.
Vivien slapped her thighs, wailing at the top of her lungs:
"There's no justice in this world! A niece swindling her own uncle out of his home!"
"My poor father-in-law barely cold in the ground, and this ingrate swallows the entire inheritance!"
"Everyone, come look! This is your precious Director Finch! She's a monster in human skin!"
A crowd had formed—colleagues, clients, all of them whispering and pointing.
The moment Jarvis spotted me, he sprang to his feet and jabbed a finger in my face.
"Hailey! Finally decided to show yourself!"
"What gives you the right to hog all eight apartments? Grandpa left those for the family—my dad deserves his share!"
"You're not leaving this building until you explain yourself and hand them over!"
"Let's see how long you keep your fancy director title after this!"
I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the three of them make absolute fools of themselves.
Then I pulled out my phone, opened the photo I'd prepared, and held it up where they could see.
"Uncle Oliver. Jarvis. You can stop now."
"Black ink on white paper. Official notary seal. Can you read it?"
"Grandpa's will is crystal clear: 'Should the second son's family disregard familial bonds out of greed, all properties shall go solely to the eldest grandchild, Hailey Finch.'"
"You know what triggered that clause? The moment you tried to extort $50,000 from me. The moment you cursed me when I refused."
"These eight apartments? You lost them yourselves."
