The Buried Truth

Having become rich, I excitedly announced in public that I planned to build a mountaintop villa on the foundation of the old house.

However, as I began the construction, my father, Martin, threatened me with death, insisting that I must not stop.

Being willful since childhood, I had no intention of yielding.

Unable to persuade me, he finally yelled, "You bastard! That's your mother down there!"

I was stunned. My mother, Iris? Didn't my mother run away 20 years ago because our family was poor?

"Your mother committed suicide by jumping into a well," said my mother.

Everyone present believed it, but I knew my father was lying because 20 years ago, my mother and I had a secret, a secret known only to the two of us.

After ten years of hard work, I achieved wealth.

During over a decade of struggling in a foreign land, it wasn't the desire to bring honor to my family that propelled me forward. Instead, it was an incident from the past that had haunted my thoughts for 20 years.

This incident was the underlying reason for my reluctance to return to the village for ten years, and it was also the heart-wrenching pain that continued to haunt me in my midnight dreams.

But I had achieved success.

Those hidden pains were greatly alleviated by the success of my career, and I decided to get back everything I had lost over the years.

On Christmas, I dressed up and returned to the village. The villagers warmly welcomed me, creating an atmosphere that made it seem like I was returning home in triumph and glory.

But I neither went back to the new house I built for my father nor went to visit my aunt and uncles.

Instead, I went directly to the dilapidated old house halfway up the mountain because deep down, I saw this place as my only home.

Upon my arrival at the old house, I presented gifts and graciously entertained the villagers. With deliberate intent, I made a grand announcement in front of the entire village, declaring my plans to construct a luxurious mountaintop villa on the very foundation of the old house.

The villagers were well aware of my success, and those who had previously looked down upon me now greeted me with flattering smiles.

Observing that the atmosphere was ripe, I promptly grabbed the rusty hoe from the corner. With determination, I prepared to dig the first piece of this highly anticipated project right in front of the doorway.

Unexpectedly, my drunkard father suddenly emerged from the crowd, forcefully grabbing the hoe from my hand and loudly halting me, "Don't dig!"

Having grown accustomed to my father's unreasonable behavior, I asked impatiently, "Why?"

"You... You just can't do it!"

My father had always been adept at making baseless arguments, but this was the first time I had seen him blushing and speaking incoherently.

I had been fighting with him for half my life, and I had never seen him so panicked.

At this moment, I was not in a hurry. I let go of the tools, looked at him with a playful look, and sneered, "This house has been empty for more than ten years. Why can't I do it?"

However, being arrogant all the time, my father quickly came up with a plausible reason. He responded with a domineering tone, "This house was left to his children by your grandfather. Who are you do alter it?"

Upon hearing that, I understood instantly. It seemed that my father stopped me for the sake of the benefits of him and his siblings!

So I softened my tone and negotiated, "You're right! I didn't think it through. Then you can talk to my uncles and aunts and I want to buy the house at the market price. Does that work?"

I thought I could finally start the work, but my dad still insisted, "No! We won't sell this house!"

After hearing this, I completely realized that my father was deliberately making things difficult for me.

However, I had been impulsive and undisciplined since childhood, and I had never gotten along with my father. After being embarrassed by him in public, I felt that I had to dig it out.

My face turned grim. Ignoring him, I just focused on digging hard at his feet with the hoe.

This time, he was completely panicked.

Frustrated by his inability to restrain me, he shouted, "You bastard! That's your mother down there!"

As soon as he uttered those words, the hoe in my hand, which I had been swinging vigorously just moments before, appeared to be enchanted and remained suspended in mid-air, defying my attempts to bring it down!

I couldn't believe my ears!

My mom? Didn't my mom run away 20 years ago because our family was poor?