Since he had no shame, I saw no reason to spare his dignity.

This wasn't just about fifty thousand dollars. It was the test Grandpa had laid out before he died.

The old neighborhood was slated for demolition soon. Under the compensation policy, Grandpa's house qualified for eight replacement homes.

He'd transferred the property into my name and left a notarized will—kept secret from everyone else.

The terms were clear: if Uncle Oliver Finch's family proved loving and loyal, mindful of kinship, four of those eight units would go to them. But if they showed themselves to be greedy and heartless, all eight would belong to me—compensation for the years I'd spent caring for Grandpa until the end.

That fifty thousand was their final chance.

If Jarvis had shown even a shred of decency—paid back a few thousand as a gesture of good faith, or simply asked nicely—I would've handed over four units worth millions without a second thought.

But some people's greed knows no bounds.

I dialed Uncle Oliver's number.

The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. His voice came through lazy and irritated.

"Yeah? What is it, calling so late?"

I kept my anger in check.

"Uncle Oliver, it's Hailey. I wanted to talk to you about the money Jarvis borrowed."

"He said he needed it urgently for the wedding. Fifty thousand, promised to pay it back in a month. It's been six."

"I just asked him about it. He says he doesn't have it—but he's posting photos of a gold chain on social media. What do you think we should do about that?"

I expected him to say something reasonable. Or at least pretend to scold his son.

What I got instead made my jaw drop.

"Oh, come on, Hailey. Is this really worth calling me about in the middle of the night to tattle?"

"Sure, the kid's irresponsible, spends too much. I'll talk to him."

"But you know how it is—he just got married, expenses are through the roof, the baby needs formula. He's under a lot of pressure."

"You're his big cousin. He used to follow you around like a puppy. What's wrong with helping him out a little?"

My grip tightened on the phone. My voice dropped several degrees.

"Uncle Oliver, I'm happy to help. But I'm not obligated to support him."

"That fifty thousand was operating capital for my business. I need it back."

He let out a derisive snort, his tone turning nasty.

"Now you're just being petty."

"Your company pulls in plenty. Fifty thousand is pocket change to you—what, the cost of one nice dinner?"

"Your Aunt Vivien Finch hasn't been well. Times are hard for us right now."

"Just think of it as a gift for your little cousin's baby. When Jarvis makes it big someday, you think he'll forget his favorite cousin?"

"We're family. Why do you have to nickel-and-dime everything? Makes us all look bad."

Ah. The classic "I'm poor so I'm entitled, you're rich so you owe me" logic.

My voice went cold as steel.

"Uncle Oliver, even blood brothers settle their accounts."

"This was a loan, not a gift. If that's your attitude, I'll have to pursue this through legal channels."

"I have the transfer records. I have the chat logs. The court will decide."

The moment I said "court," he exploded.

"Hailey! You ungrateful little—! You'd sue your own cousin?!"

"Have you no conscience? Your Aunt Vivien held you when you were a baby!"

"You'd drag family into court over this? You file that lawsuit, and I swear I'll show up at your office with a banner!"

"I'll let the whole world see how the great Director Finch treats her poor relatives!"

His shouting was so loud it hurt my ears.

This was my dear uncle.

To dodge a debt, there was no tactic too low for him to stoop to.

"You don't need to threaten me, Uncle."

"I have nothing to hide—my conscience is clear."

"Since that's how you want to play it, there's nothing left to discuss. Wait for the summons."

I hung up.

Whatever lingering attachment I'd felt toward family loyalty evaporated completely.

Grandpa had seen right through them all along. That's why he'd left that will.

If not for that fifty thousand dollars serving as a test, I might have been foolish enough to hand over four houses to them without a second thought.

Four houses at current market prices—worth at least four million.

They couldn't even bring themselves to repay fifty thousand. How would they react when they realized they'd lost four million?

Shortly after I hung up, my phone rang again.

The word "Dad" glowed on the screen, and my stomach dropped.

Uncle hadn't wasted any time running to him.

My father had always been honest to a fault, the kind of man who valued family above everything else. To him, keeping the peace was more important than being right.

That was exactly why I'd kept all of this from him.

I answered, and sure enough, his anxious voice came through immediately.

"Hailey, what's going on between you and your uncle?"

"He just called me, crying his eyes out, saying you're trying to drive Jarvis to his death."

"He says now that you've got money, you don't want anything to do with your poor relatives—and that you're even taking them to court."

"What happened? It's just a loan. How did it blow up like this?"

His anxious, faintly accusing tone made me feel so tired.

I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Dad, it's not that I'm being unreasonable. They crossed a line."

"Refusing to pay me back is one thing. But Jarvis took my money and spent it on gold chains and partying."

"When I called him out, he cursed at me. And Uncle took his side."

"I can let go of the fifty thousand. What I can't swallow is being treated like this."

Silence stretched across the line before my father let out a heavy sigh.

"Hailey, I know you've been wronged."

"Jarvis was spoiled rotten, and your uncle and aunt have lost all sense."

"But... they're still family."

"Your uncle said on the phone that if you actually go through with this lawsuit, he'll take the whole family to wail at Grandpa's grave."

"If word gets out, where does that leave us? The whole village will tear us apart."

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.

"Dad, don't listen to his nonsense."

"They're the ones in the wrong, not me. I could take this case anywhere and still be in the right."

"Please, just stay out of it. Let me handle this myself."

His voice turned pleading.

"Hailey, I'm begging you."

"If you need that fifty thousand urgently, I have my pension—I'll cover it."

"Just let it go. Think of it as paying for peace."

"Qingming Festival is in a few days. We'll be going back to pay respects. If things get too ugly, how am I supposed to face your grandfather?"

That was my father—a man who would rather suffer in silence than confront anyone.

But his constant yielding had only made my uncle's family push harder every time.

"Dad, I don't want your money."

"And please don't worry about this anymore. I know what I'm doing. I won't put you in an impossible position."

"Get some rest. Take care of yourself."

Before he could say another word, I forced myself to hang up.

I walked to the window and gazed out at the city lights glittering across the night. My resolve hardened with every breath.

You want to play dirty? Fine. Don't blame me for playing to win.

Those eight houses—I had originally planned to honor Grandpa's wishes and give half to my uncle's family.

After all, Grandpa's final wish was to see the brothers live in harmony.

But that was conditional—they had to deserve that bond.

Now it was clear: those eight replacement homes? They wouldn't see a single one.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a number I'd saved long ago—Tyler Lambert, Notary Attorney.

He was the lawyer Grandpa had entrusted before his death, the one who held the will that would determine the fate of all eight properties.

According to the original arrangement, the will's contents wouldn't be disclosed until the day the redevelopment officially launched.

But now, I wanted to exercise my rights early.

The will contained a supplementary clause: if the heir—meaning me—determined that Oliver's branch of the family had severed familial bonds through their actions, I had the right to file an early petition with the Notary Office. Their gift entitlement would be revoked, and I would inherit everything.

The evidence required? Proof that they had "disregarded family ties."

And that venomous voicemail, Oliver's shameless threats, my father's helpless, broken voice—

All of it. Ironclad proof.

I dialed Tyler's number.

"Hello, Attorney Lambert? I'm sorry to disturb you so late."

"This is Hailey Finch, regarding my grandfather Isaac Finch's will. I'd like to activate the second clause."

"Yes. I want sole ownership of all eight replacement homes."

"I have all the evidence prepared. I'll come to your office tomorrow morning."

The next day, I took the morning off work.

Armed with printed screenshots of every chat log, every transfer record, and last night's call recording, I drove to the law firm.

Tyler was a man in his mid-fifties. He studied the materials I handed over, adjusting his glasses.

"Ms. Finch, are you certain about this?"

"Once you sign this confirmation, the will becomes legally binding."

"That means when the redevelopment agreement comes through, all eight properties will be registered solely under your name. Your uncle's family will have no claim whatsoever."

"This will likely infuriate them completely."

I sat across from him, gazing at the legal document that had been drafted long ago.

"Attorney Lambert, I've thought this through."

"Over the years, my uncle's family borrowing money and never paying it back—that's been the norm."

"I used to tell myself, they're blood relatives, help where you can."

"But this fifty thousand dollars opened my eyes for good. You can't domesticate wolves by feeding them."

"If I don't end this decisively, the moment the redevelopment money comes through, they'll only get worse. They'll bleed us dry."

"I can't let my father spend his final years being tormented by them."

Tyler nodded slowly.

"This was exactly what Old Mr. Finch worried about most."

"He told me his second son had a crooked heart, and the grandson had been spoiled rotten. He was afraid they'd squander the family assets—but more than that, he was afraid they'd bully you and your father, knowing you're both too decent to fight back."

"That's why he set this up."

"Since your mind is made up, sign here."

I picked up the pen and pressed my name firmly at the bottom of the document.

The process moved quickly. The Notary Office issued the updated certification almost immediately, confirming that the old family house and all derivative rights—including redevelopment benefits—belonged to me alone.

With this document in hand, the moment the Redevelopment Office set up operations, I could sign and claim the properties directly.

As I walked out of the law firm, my phone buzzed again.

A WeChat message. From him.

Perhaps fearing I'd actually follow through with the lawsuit, his tone had softened slightly—but it still dripped with that nauseating sense of entitlement.

[Sis, I had too much to drink last night. Said some things I shouldn't have. Don't take it to heart.]

[But you know I really don't have the money right now.]

[How about this—once the old house gets demolished, we'll get a nice chunk of money, right?]