Chapter 4

I stared at him for three seconds.

Then, I pulled out my phone and turned on the recording function before placing it on the table.

I said, "Say that again, Dad. You brought over this man, Jared Leroy, to work at my cafe, right?"

Dad froze for a moment. "Why are you recording this?"

I replied, "To have a record of what you said. Now, you and Mr. Leroy need to leave my cafe. Otherwise, I'll call the police immediately and report you for trespassing and disrupting my business."

"Are you seriously going to call the police and have your own father arrested?" Dad asked, staring at me in disbelief.

I shot back, "This is my cafe. I don't care if you're my dad."

I dialed 911 and held up the screen for him to see. "You're trespassing. Three seconds. Three, two…"

"Let's go!" Mom suddenly rushed in through the door.

It turned out she had been waiting outside and had heard everything.

She grabbed Dad by the arm and urged, "Let's go, Leonard. Do you really want Hugh to call the police and have you arrested?"

As Dad was dragged toward the door, he turned back and glared at me. "Just you wait! This shop of yours is going to go under sooner or later!"

The door slammed shut.

I stood there, bracing myself against the register. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

My staff came over cautiously. "Hugh, are you okay?"

I straightened up and replied, "I'm fine. Mop the floor by the entrance. There's a weird smell."

That night, after closing the cafe, I sat down and ran the numbers. If Jared came to work here, even if I only paid him minimum wage and provided room and board, I'd have to spend at least another 3,000 dollars a month.

That didn't include the cost of his food and lodging. Given his history of stealing money, I could even end up losing some of my revenue.

Those 3,000 dollars could pay for my food budget for the month, next quarter's property management fee, and the repair fees for the broken air conditioner. It was the tiny bit of margin I had left to survive.

And that was exactly what Dad wanted. He wanted me to give up the last bit of money I had left to stay afloat. It was all for the sake of his reputation as the kindest and most generous gentleman.

I closed the ledger and locked up the cafe.

On my way home, I passed a real estate agency. In the window was an advertisement for the exact kind of residential complex Jared wanted to buy.

It showed, "Two-bedroom apartments, down payments starting at 40,000 dollars."

40,000 dollars…

Dad should still have around 8,000 dollars in his retirement account. Mom's private savings were probably gone by half, as she'd given me 20,000 dollars before.

There was a 12,000-dollar balance.

How was Dad planning to come up with the rest?

The answer was obvious.

Mom called again on Friday night. Her voice sounded exhausted as she said, "Hugh, your dad realizes his mistake. He just can't bring himself to admit it. Tomorrow's the weekend. Come home for dinner, okay? We can sit down and talk things out as a family."

I said nothing.

Mom's voice softened as she continued, "I bought the ribs you love. I'll make you some soup too. You've gotten so skinny lately—"

"Mom," I interrupted her, "how many times has this happened?"

There was silence on the other end.

I recounted, "The year I was supposed to take the SAT, you said the same thing. You told me to come home for dinner because Dad knew he messed up. When I was in college, you said the same thing too. You told me to come home for dinner because Dad was just too stubborn to admit it.

"What about this time? What is he going to say at dinner? Is he going to say that he's come to his senses and will leave my business alone?"

Mom didn't respond.

I continued, "Or is he going to say the Leroys are struggling again and ask if I could kindly—"

"No!" Mom hurriedly cut me off. "Your dad has reflected on what he did. He hasn't been sleeping well these past few days, and his blood pressure is high again…"

I said coldly, "So, if I don't go home for dinner, his blood pressure will get even higher, and that'll be my fault, right?"

"That's not what I meant…"

In the end, I agreed anyway.

"I'm closing the cafe for a day tomorrow. I'll come home at 5:00 pm."

After hanging up, I sat alone in the cafe. I needed to do something for myself.

I took out my phone and opened a business-for-sale platform. I registered an account, uploaded photos, and filled out the information.

For the reason, I typed, "Family circumstances. Unable to continue operating."

I stared at that last line for a long time.

Then, I hit "Publish".

At 5:00 pm on Saturday, I knocked on the door of my parents' home right on time.