Not His Son Not Your Money

The day after I graduated from college, my father threw me out of the house. He made the announcement in the family chat thread.

I didn't raise him all these years just so he could be a deadbeat mooching off me.

Two hundred dollars is more than enough to get him started until he finds a job.

If he can't make something of himself, I won't call him my son.

The likes and agreements from relatives poured in immediately.

To pay off my student loans, I was forced to rent the cheapest room available and take on the toughest, most exhausting jobs, often juggling three shifts a day.

Eventually, I collapsed from sheer exhaustion and died while making a delivery run.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was expelled from the mansion.

The first thing I did with the two hundred dollars was buy a train ticket to my grandparents' house.

If you won't let me mooch off you...

Then none of us will!

I found myself standing in the familiar, yet chillingly cold, living room of the mansion.

My father, Victor Caldwell, stood opposite me, his gaze entirely devoid of warmth. There was only unconcealed disappointment and a deep-seated annoyance.

My half-brother, Jace Caldwell, slouched on the expensive leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a smirk of malicious glee playing on his lips.

My stepmother, Sibyl Sinclair, stood at my father's side, one hand resting on his arm in a show of concern. With the other, she was gently dabbing at tears that weren't there with a tissue.

"You've graduated from college, you're a grown man. Do you plan on just idling around, waiting for the world to hand you a living?"

Victors voice was like chips of ice, every word a solid blow to my chest.

"I didn't feed and clothe you for two decades just so you could be an unproductive piece of trash, a freeloader!"

Sibyl immediately cut in with fake solicitude: "Victor, don't talk about Kellan that way."

"Kellan is still young, just starting out. He doesn't know anything."

"If you rush him out so quickly, what if he can't take care of himself? It breaks my heart to think about it..."

Her words, though seemingly meant to soothe, were meant only to fan the flames.

Predictably, Victors temper flared even higher.

He flung Sibyl's hand away and jabbed a finger right into my face. "Young? He's twenty-two! What are you talking about?"

"Kids from poor families start working after high school to support their families!"

"I put food on your plate, gave you clothes on your back, and paid for your college education. My duty is done!"

"Starting today, you're on your own. Get out and make a life for yourself!"

With that, he yanked two bills from his wallet and violently slapped them across my cheek.

"Two hundred bucks. That's enough to tide you over until you find a job! Don't you dare say I didn't help you!"

The floodgates of memory burst open.

In my last life, I had listened to those harsh words, seen Jace's delighted smile and Sibyls performance, and felt nothing but righteous fury and injustice.

I argued vehemently, insisting I needed time to find a job after graduation, explaining that the world wasn't as simple as they imagined. I even brought up the student loansloans Father had insisted I take out, saying it would "keep me focused" during my college years.

The response was a thunderous slap.

It was heavy and brutal, stunning me into silence. My cheek instantly swelled, my ears rang, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

I stared at Victor in disbelief. The man who once carried me on his shoulders now looked at me with cold disgust.

Sibyl pretended to gasp and rushed to intervene, while Jace barely managed to stifle a laugh.

That moment was the complete shattering of my dignity, the bleak starting point of my miserable last life. I was tossed out with my humiliation and those two hundred dollars, beginning a dark, relentless struggle that ended on the side of a road...

This time, I didn't argue.

I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and met my enraged father's eyes with a calm that was utterly foreign to him.

"Yes, Dad. I understand."

"Before I leave, I just have one question."

"When Jace graduates, will you do the same thing to him?"

"Will you hand him two hundred dollars and kick him out of this house to fend for himself?"

The living room fell into a sudden, deadly silence.

Victor froze, then his face turned a ghastly shade of white.

Jace's smile vanished, and he instinctively sat up straight.

Sibyl shrieked, "Kellan! What are you talking about? What does this have to do with your brother?"

Victor lunged forward like a lion whose tail had been stepped on.

"You ungrateful little bastard!"

Instead of another slap, he grabbed my suitcase with a crude jerk. He threw it with all his might out of the open front door, like it was a piece of trash.

The suitcase hit the concrete driveway with a dull thud. The latches sprang open, and a few of my faded, worn clothes spilled out.

"Get out! Get out now!"

"I don't have a son like you!"

He stood there, chest heaving, pointing frantically at the door.

Jace raised his phone, openly snapping pictures. His face was a mask of excitement, as if he were watching an incredibly entertaining show.

Sibyl gently rubbed Victor's back, cooing, "Victor, don't get so worked up. He's not worth it."

"The boy is foolish; we'll teach him slowly..."

But the flash of triumph in her eyes did not escape me.

I silently gathered my scattered clothes, picked up my college diploma, and carefully brushed the dust off the cover.

Then, clutching the two wrinkled hundred-dollar bills, I straightened my spine and walked, one step at a time, away from this grand, yet utterly devoid of warmth, "home."

Behind me, I heard Victor's continued, angry roaring, Sibyls feigned comfort, and Jace's barely suppressed low laughter.

The wrought-iron gate of the estate slowly closed behind me with a heavy clank, separating two worlds.

The sunlight was harsh. I squinted, looking at the distant city traffic.

This time, I wouldn't be the blind fool of the last life, rushing headlong into the bottom rung of society, letting cheap labor drain my life away.

Two hundred dollars was enough.

Enough to buy a train ticket back to my grandparents.

If you won't let me mooch, then neither will you!

After hours of travel, I finally arrived in the small town, full of the scent of earth and the warmth I remembered.

Grandpa Robert ("Bob") was sitting on his porch swing, rolling a cigarette. Grandma Martha was busy in the kitchen. The smoke from the wood stove curled into the sky, carrying the unique, delicious aroma of home cooking.

"Kellan? What are you doing back here?"

Grandpa looked up, surprised, then a flicker of confusion crossed his wrinkled face.

Grandma heard his voice and came out, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes crinkling into a warm smile.

"Oh, my sweet boy is home! Come in, come in! Have you eaten? Grandma is making scrambled eggs just for you!"

Seeing the genuine, unreserved joy in their faces, my heart swelled, and my eyes stung with unshed tears.

At the dinner table, as my grandparents constantly piled food onto my plate and asked after me, I didn't hold anything back. I recounted my experience exactly as it happened, without exaggeration.

Grandmas eyes welled up as she listened, gripping my hand tightly. "My poor baby... your father is just... just completely out of his mind!"

Grandpa listened in silence, his face growing darker, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. When I repeated Victors line"If he can't make something of himself, I won't call him my son"he slammed his fist onto the table with a loud thud.

"That son of a bitch!"

Grandpa shot up, his chest heaving.

"Victor Caldwell, he thinks he's something special, does he? How dare he treat my grandson this way?"

He pulled out his old flip phone and dialed Victor's number. The moment it connected, he roared into the receiver:

"Victor Caldwell! Get your sorry self back here now! Now! Immediately!"

Victor on the other end seemed to try and explain something. Grandpa didn't give him a chance, hanging up the phone immediately.

A few hours later, Victors Maybach pulled up outside Grandpa's rural farmhouse.

He frowned as he got out, his face etched with impatience.

"Dad, why the emergency? I have work back at the office."

When he saw me sitting next to my grandparents, a look of displeasure and dawning comprehension crossed his face.

"What is it?"

Grandpa fought to suppress his fury. "I'll tell you what it is! I'm asking you, is this how you treat your own flesh and blood?"

"Kicking him out the day after he graduates with two hundred dollars?"

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

A flash of guilt and embarrassment crossed Victor's face, but it was quickly replaced by self-righteous indignation. "Dad, I'm doing this for his own good!"

"It's called 'tough love,' the most prevalent parenting philosophy in the world!"

"He's twenty-two! A man! Should he keep living at home as a mooch? Kids in other countries are independent by eighteen. I'm already late on this!"

He spoke with great eloquence, as if he were an expert in child psychology.

Grandma shot him a sideways glance. "Tough love? I think that snake Sibyl is the one who put you up to this!"

"She can't stand Kellan, so you go along with her, tormenting my grandson?"

Victors face changed, and he immediately denied it. "Mom! What are you saying?"

"This has nothing to do with Sibyl! It was my decision entirely."

"And Jace is my son too. I'll treat them both equally in the future, I promise!"

He said this with absolute certainty. As if he hadn't completely lost his temper when I brought up Jace just yesterday.

"Equally?"

Grandpa Bob let out a cold laugh, full of irony and disappointment.

"Fine. 'Equally,' you say! Victor Caldwell, you've gotten awfully big for your boots, using some foreign parenting fad to turn against your own son."

Grandpa stood up, his gaze like a torch.

"Since you believe that once a child is an adult, he shouldn't be managed and should rely on himself..."

"Then fine, I ask you, how old are you this year?"

Victor was taken aback, not grasping Grandpa's meaning.

"Fifty-three... Dad, why do you ask?"

"Fifty-three. Much older than twenty-two, isn't it!" Grandpa's voice suddenly rose. "You go on and on about your son not mooching, but what about you?"

"That mansion you live in, the three prime rental properties you collect rent from every month, even the seed money for your companyhow much of that did you earn?"

"Wasn't it all built from the ground up by me?"

Victor's face went white instantly.

He seemed to sense what was coming and hurriedly said, "Dad, that... that's not the same! I'm your son. All these businesses will eventually be..."

"Eventually?" Grandpa cut him off, his tone glacial. "There is no eventually! You think relying on your parents is shameful and independence is necessary?"

"I'll grant you your wish!"

"Starting today, I'll notify the tenants of those three properties to deposit the rent directly into your mother's account."

"And the mansion you live in? I'm taking that back, too!"

"The three of you, go find your own place to live and be independent!"

The words hit Victor like a lightning bolt. He was stunned.

He could no longer maintain the facade of his "parenting philosophy." His face was covered in panic and disbelief. "Dad! You can't do this!"

"I'm your only son! How can you take the family property back?"

"This... how are we supposed to live? The company's cash flow relies on that rent!"

He rushed forward, his voice a mixture of pleading and confusion, a stark contrast to the high-minded father of just hours ago.

Grandpa looked at his desperate, ugly face, his disappointment deepening, leaving only cold resolve.

"Only son? You remember you're my son now?"

"Did you remember you were my son when you were kicking my grandson out?"

"You're in your fifties! You force your newly graduated son to be independent, yet you happily live off the wealth I built?"

"Victor Caldwell, have you no shame?"

"Get out! Get out now! Take your philosophy with you, and go be 'independent'!"

Victor stood frozen, his color cycling from white to green to red.

He looked at Grandpa's freezing face, then at Grandmas tear-filled yet resolute eyes, and finally, his gaze settled on me.

His expression was complex: anger, resentment, and perhaps a faint, barely perceptible flicker of regret?

The air hung heavy for a few seconds.

"Dad, Mom, I... I was wrong." Victors voice was dry, a strained attempt at conciliation. "I was foolish, I didn't think it through. I shouldn't have treated Kellan like that."

Grandpa looked at him coldly, remaining silent.

Grandma turned her face away, wiping the corner of her eye.

Seeing the situation wasn't improving, Victor quickly turned to me. "Kellan, your father was wrong. I was just too eager for you to succeed."

"Please... don't take it to heart. I promise I'll change and be a better father to you!"

He spoke earnestly, his eyes full of what seemed like sincerity.

But I remembered the last life clearly.

The rain was heavy that day. I was riding my scooter when a sudden, sharp pain in my chest made me lose control and crash onto the side of the road. My vision blurred. Rain and mud poured into my nose and mouth. In my last flickering moment of consciousness, I saw a familiar black Maybach slow to a stop five feet away due to traffic.

The window lowered, and I saw my father.

His gaze casually swept over me, without stopping, without confusion, without the slightest ripple of emotion. It was like seeing a dying stray dog on the roadside.

The window went up, and when the light turned green, the car sped away.

The promises spilling from his mouth now were nauseatingly fake to me.

He was giving in, not because he recognized his error, but because Grandpa had cut off his financial lifeline. Once the crisis passed, he would revert to his old self, or perhaps even intensify his cruelty because of today's humiliation.

Unfortunately, my grandparents were ultimately soft-hearted.

Grandpa snorted. "You know you were wrong now? What took you so long?"

"Victor Caldwell, I'm telling you, this is the last time!"

"If you ever dare to mistreat my grandson again, I will change my will immediately. I'll donate everything, and you won't get a single penny!"

Victor, reprieved, nodded rapidly. "Never again, absolutely never again!"

"Don't worry, I promise I'll turn over a new leaf."

Before leaving, I said I wanted to buy something at the town store and asked Grandpa to walk with me for a bit...

Back in the city, Victor asked me to move back into the mansion and arranged for me to take a middle management position at the company.

The following days were calm. Sibyl and Jace greeted me with smiles.

But I knew the undercurrents were strong beneath the peaceful surface.

At the company's annual Fall Gala, I was toasted by management until I felt woozy and slipped into an empty private room next door to rest.

As I was drifting off, the door was suddenly shoved open.

A strange woman rushed in and, before I could react, began to scream.

"Help! Rape!"

At the same time, she aggressively tore at her own skirt and stockings, exposing her pale legs.

My drunken haze instantly evaporated.

Before I could process what was happening, Sibyl rushed in with several colleagues and pinned me down. The room erupted into chaos.

Someone immediately called the police. Victor was the last to arrive when the officers got there.

He stood beside the police, his face a picture of distress.

"Officers, this is my failure as a father."

"I never imagined he would do such a thing. Please process this according to the law. I will not interfere."

"He should serve whatever sentence he deserves. The Caldwell family will not harbor a disgrace like this!"

Sibyl pointed at me, tears streaming down her face. "Officer, he's always been bad! When he was a child, he... he used to peep on the maid in the shower!"

"I was too scared to say anything, but now I'm terrified to think about it!"

Jace instantly backed her up. "I saw it too! I saw my brother stealing the maid's stockings!"

"And his computer is full of porn and shady websites!"

The mother and son's accusations caused a commotion. Colleagues began to whisper.

"You can't judge a book by its cover. He seemed so normal."

"I noticed him staring at the women's legs in the office! Now he's drunk, the real colors show. He's clearly a pervert!"

"With a son like this, no wonder Victor Caldwell is acting like a saint."

"It's dangerous to work with a man like this. Kellan Blackwood belongs in jail!"

The murmurs weren't loud, but I heard them clearly.

An officer approached. Just as the handcuffs were about to be clamped onto my wrists, I spoke calmly.

"Officer, before you take me, I request to make a phone call."

Victor sneered, crossing his arms.

"A phone call? It won't help, no matter who you call!"

"Don't bother with your grandfather. Not even God himself can save you now!"

Jace snickered, his eyes filled with contempt. "Bro, stop struggling. Just confess and maybe you'll get a shorter sentence."

I ignored them both, speaking clearly, word by word.

"According to procedure, I have the right to notify family or legal counsel before being subjected to mandatory measures."

The officer hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Fine. Make the call."

Under the varied stares of everyone in the room, I pulled out a wrinkled piece of papera scrap from Grandpa's tobacco pouch.

When he saw the number on the paper, Victors eyes narrowed suddenly.