Betrayed by Blood The House That Stole My Family

I stood by my parents' side, attending a wedding I had no desire to witness. The bride and groom were the impoverished students my parents had sponsored for years.

On the stage, the young couple choked back tears, voices trembling as they thanked my parents for their benevolence. It wasn't just tuition for high school and college. No, my parents' generosity had culminated in a commercial apartment worth over a million dollarsdeeded entirely to them.

My father walked onto the stage and claimed the microphone, basking in the spotlight.

"Alex Woodward and Maya Swanson are exemplary young people," he announced, his voice projecting the authority of a tenured academic. "Their grades are excellent, and they possess the fortitude to endure hardship. I simply did my small part. I trust their future will only get brighter."

When the couple finally descended from the stage, I stared at them. Confusion curdled into something cold and tight in my stomach.

My mother noticed my gaze and leaned in, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "Gabriel, think of the apartment as a loan. We wrote an IOU. They're about to get marriedwe couldn't very well let them sleep on the street, could we?"

I couldn't wrap my head around their logic.

"But that apartment..." My whisper came out harsh. "It was bought with twenty thousand dollars from Grandpa and Grandma, plus the twenty thousand I gave you. I'm dating someone too. Why didn't you consider *my* marriage?"

My father turned to me. His expression hardened into a mask of indifference. "You aren't married yet, are you? Besides, what we're doing is building good karma for you."

"Building karma for me?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Am I supposed to thank you for giving away my future?"

My mother tried to soothe me. "Gabriel, the apartment can be taken back. Don't worry about it."

"Taken back? How? With a flimsy piece of paper?"

My questions only fueled my father's irritation. He glared at me, eyes dark with warning. "There is a wedding happening right now. Do not cause a scene."

My mother chimed in, clearly thinking I was being petty. "Didn't you say you wanted to focus on your career? You aren't in a rush to buy a house. Besides, whether your relationship even works out is another matter entirely."

I stared at them blankly. Words failed me.

Were these really my biological parents? In what world do parents not hope for their own child's success?

"You want to play the saints? Fine, I can't control that." My voice shook with suppressed rage. "But that apartment contains half a lifetime of savings from my grandparents. And the twenty thousand I scraped together working all these years."

That snapped my father's patience.

"What are you trying to imply? You want us to pay you back?" He scoffed. "Can't you act like a big brother for once? Even if you share no blood, Alex and Maya are your siblings in spirit!"

Our hushed argument had begun to draw the attention of nearby guests.

Lily Woodward, Alex's mother, approached us with a wine glass in hand, oblivious to the tension. Overflowing with gratitude, she toasted my father, declaring that without my parents, her son would have nothing.

My father didn't hesitate. He stood up, downed his wine, and beamed. "Maya is a good girl. You must treat her well."

Lily nodded vigorously. "Rest assured, Professor Fox. It is the least we can do."

*Professor.* The title scraped against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

My father had taught for thirty years in the Chinese Department at a local university. I understood the old-school mentality, the obsession with reputation. But time and again, they sacrificed what belonged to me to impress outsiders.

Why?

It had been this way since childhood. They always claimed it was for my own good, but it was nothing more than vanity. They lived for their "face."

"I don't care about your charity projects." My voice cut through the noise of the banquet. "Give me back Grandpa and Grandma's money. Give me back *my* money."

My mother immediately gripped my arm, nails digging in, signaling me to shut up.

"That is the blood and sweat of two generations," I continued, undeterred. "It is not a prop for your ego."

If our family were wealthy, perhaps I wouldn't care. But the truth was, we had barely saved anything over the years.

That apartment represented a million dollarsthe total liquidation of assets from three generations of my family. And they handed it over to outsiders with zero blood relation? No matter how I tried to rationalize their "selflessness," the math didn't add up.

My father's face turned a violent shade of red. Humiliated, he lashed out.

*Smack!*

The sharp crack of his palm against my cheek silenced our table. My skin burned. The sting radiated across my jaw.

"I'm not dead yet, and you dare speak to me like this?" he roared.

I looked at his ferocious expression, and a strange urge to laugh bubbled up in my chest. It was a hollow, self-mocking sound. Being born into this family was nothing short of a tragedy.

My mother looked at me with disappointment. "Even if you're upset, you have to pick the right occasion. Making a scene on such a happy day... people will think you're immature."

*Immature.* Right.

I nodded slowly. Picked up a wine glass from the table. Turned to the happy couple, Alex and Maya.

"I wish you a long life together." My smile didn't reach my eyes. "May you be of one heart, forever."

I drained the glass in one gulp, turned on my heel, and walked out of the hotel.

My mother made a move to chase after me, but my father held her back. His voice carried to the door. "How did I raise such a thing? He is simply a misfortune to this family!"

*Misfortune.* The word branded itself into my mind.

Since I was little, I was "immature" because I believed that suffering losses was a virtue. I suffered alongside them, time and again. During the New Year, my classmates wore brand-new outfits while I played in threadbare clothes. My parents would rather donate their entire salary to remote mountain villages than buy their own son a new jacket.

In middle school, I placed third in the entire grade. They promised me a laptop. What I eventually received was an empty shell; the internal components had been stripped out and given to my cousin because "Uncle's child is going to college and needs it more."

They could be public-spirited saints; I didn't oppose that. But could they not have raised their own child first?

From age three until college, I practically lived at my grandparents' house. My parents had time, yet they always found excuses, claiming they were "too busy." Growing up in that environment, loneliness became my only constant companion.

They spoke so prettily, claiming it was all for me.

If they didn't want to raise me, why did they have me?

Only after I graduated college and started working did they think to bring me back into the fold.

I returned to my rental apartment and lay in the dark for hours. That evening, my phone buzzed. It was my uncle, Mason Larsen.

"Gabriel, you fought with your parents, didn't you?" Mason sighed. "After all, they are your parents. They gave birth to you. What they did today was a bit excessive, sure, but..."

My anger, far from dissipating, flared up again.

"Uncle Mason," I cut in. "I lived with you and Grandparents growing up. You don't deny that, do you?"

A pause. Two seconds of dead air. "That is true."

"Then tell me, after they gave birth to me, did they actually raise me?"

Silence stretched over the line. Uncle Mason was speechless. I knew my mother must have called him, begging him to talk some sense into me. After all, I had spent more time with Mason than with my own parents.

"They were busy back then," Mason mumbled weakly. "They didn't have time. Now they're about to retire..."

"If you're here to persuade me to make up with them, forget it." I didn't let him finish. "In their world, the only thing that matters is their reputation."

If I hadn't been starved for parental affection, if I hadn't genuinely missed them, I never would have moved back in with them after college. But those two years together only highlighted the chasm between usin thinking, in habits, in values.

"Uncle Mason, do you have anything else to say?"

He remained silent.

Suddenly, my father's roar blasted through the phone speaker. He must have been listening in.

"I raised you to adulthood, and this is how you repay me? You ungrateful wretch! A person cannot be this selfishlook at what you've become!"

My mother's voice filtered through from the background. "Alright, say a little less. Gabriel is still young. He doesn't understand."

I snapped.

"Mom, I am not young. I'm twenty-five. I'm at the age where I should be getting married." My voice came out steady. Cold. "If I hold my wedding this year, have you thought about where we will live?"

I didn't wait for an answer.

"Aria Weber and I met in college. We've been together for nearly six years. Her family isn't asking for a bride price; they only hoped our family could provide a marital home. How do you want me to explain this to them now?"

Every word came from the bottom of my heart. I wanted them to understand the gravity of what they had done.

Before my mother could speak, my father replied with chilling indifference.

"Can't you live at home? Is a three-bedroom apartment not enough for you? That way, your mother can help with cooking and chores."

I was so angry I actually laughed.

It was hopeless. They were beyond reason.

I didn't bother saying goodbye. I just hung up.

Perhaps I, their so-called son, was born simply to be sacrificed on the altar of their vanity.

Not long after, my phone rang again. It was my mother, calling secretly. Her voice was hushed, likely whispering from the balcony.

"Gabriel... I didn't know you were planning to get married this year. Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"Would telling you have made a difference?" I asked. "You still would have given the apartment to Alex and Maya first."

It wasn't a matter of timing. It was a matter of priority. My father cared too much about face, and his rigid thinking meant his own family always paid the price.

"Those things are in the past." She brushed aside decades of neglect with a single sentence. "Like your dad said, move in with us. Living together is convenient. Isn't that good?"

*Convenient?* Convenient for whom?

When I didn't respond, she offered another solution. "Then your dad and I will move out and rent a place. We can renovate the old house for you and Aria."

"Mom, do you think this is just about a roof over my head?" Exasperation bled into my voice. "The apartment you gave away was the home Aria and I agreed on. I told her it was bought. We planned the renovation style together. And now? It's being lived in by someone else. What do you think Aria and her family will think of us?"

My mother acted as if my concerns were trivial.

"It's not like you don't know Alex and Maya. They are practically your siblings. Their family was so poor they couldn't pay tuition, yet they worked so hard. We couldn't stand by and watch. We just wanted to help a bit."

*Help a bit.*

Saying it out loud, didn't she find it ridiculous? What I had, they had. What I didn't have, they had.

I didn't want to drag this out. I just wanted my money backmy savings and my grandparents' legacy.

"How about this." I cut to the chase. "You tell Alex and Maya's families to scrape the money together. Give Grandpa and Grandma's money, and my twenty thousand, back to me. As for whatever you poured into that apartment, you can ask for it back whenever you want. That has nothing to do with me anymore."

My mother had called hoping I would apologize to my father and accept a compromise. Seeing that I wouldn't yield, she sighed, her voice heavy with disappointment.

"Gabriel... if those two families could scrape together that kind of money, would they have needed to borrow a marital home from us in the first place?"

"Gabriel, there is something fundamentally wrong with your mindset. You're becoming increasingly selfish."

I met her accusation head-on. "Mom, did you even investigate their current living situation? Compared to them, we're the ones who qualify as a 'poor household.'"

She scoffed. Waved her hand like I was speaking gibberish. She and Dad had *seen* the young couple's hardships with their own eyes. Why else would they have decided to sponsor them in the first place?

A bitter taste coated my tongue. I didn't have the energy to explain.

"Fine. Keep thinking that way." My voice went flat. "Seems like the truth doesn't matter to you anymore."

She took it as a tantrum. Just Gabriel saying hurtful things to get a rise out of her.

The living room hit me with a wall of tension the moment I stepped back in. Dad sat on the sofa, expression thunderous.

"What did that ungrateful wretch say?" he demanded. "He isn't willing to apologize, is he?"

Uncle Mason stepped between us, palms raised. "You two need to calm down. Houses aren't cheap. Can't the family discuss this rationally first?"

"I am his father!" Dad's roar rattled the windows. "Are you saying I can't even make this kind of decision?"

Mom walked in and repeated my words verbatimadding extra emphasis to the young couple's *pitiful circumstances*.

Uncle Mason's brow furrowed. "I remember you first sponsored them eight or nine years ago. How long has it been since you actually visited their home?"

Dad slammed his phone down on the coffee table. "Over eight years. You think they struck it rich in that time? When your sister-in-law and I went back then, they were living in a dilapidated single-story shack. Alex's family of five was squeezed into a space barely over two hundred square feet. Maya's situation was marginally better, but not by much."

These were the images burned into their minds.

From nearly a decade ago.

"Exactly," Mom chimed in. "They looked absolutely destitute. If you ask me, we raised an ingrate. If Gabriel won't cooperate, we'll just scrape together the money ourselves and give Alex his share."

The problem was, my parents had long since drained their savings. They had only managed to borrow two hundred thousand from my uncle and a few other relatives.

Mom called me later that week, asking me out to dinner to hand over the money. Aria was with me at the time. When I told her about it, she insisted on coming along. Figured if things went south, she could help smooth things over.

My parents were already waiting in the private room when we arrived. Most of the cold appetizers had been served.

The moment Mom spotted Aria, her demeanor flipped like a switch. Excessive warmth poured out of her. "Aria! We haven't seen you in ages. Are your parents in good health?"

Aria linked arms with her, sat down, engaged in polite small talk. They shifted from household topics to recent gossip. On the surface, it looked harmoniousa happy family dinner.

Under the table, my hands were clenched so tight my knuckles ached. Dad and I sat in stiff, stony silence.

When the hot dishes arrived, Mom started piling food onto Aria's plate. Halfway through the meal, she dropped the bomb.

"Aria, I heard you and Gabriel are planning to get married soon? Is that true?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fox. We're hoping to have the ceremony this year."

Mom glanced at Dad. A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes. She probably hadn't expected us to move this fast.

"Regarding the marital home... Gabriel told you the situation, right?"

Aria nodded. Mom kept her smile plastered on.

"Look, could you two use our place as the marital home for now? If you're not used to living there after the wedding, we can always move out."

My chair scraped loudly against the floor as I stood. I was done.

Aria grabbed my arm, pulled me back down. Her eyes pleaded with me to stay calm. Then she turned to my mother.

"Mrs. Fox, honestly, I don't mind where we live. The main issue is that it's hard to explain to my parents."

"What's hard to explain?" Mom waved her hand dismissively. "It's just a house. Isn't living anywhere the same?"

Dad's indifferent tone sparked something volatile in my chest. Anger. Absurdity. Both swirling together.

"Have you ever cared about our feelings?"

"Have you ever cared about mine or your mother's?" His face darkened.

That sentence snapped the last thread of my patience.

I stood. My voice came out steady. Cold.

"When I was three, you dumped me on Grandpa and Grandma so you wouldn't have to deal with me. Back then, I didn't understand. I thought you were just busy." A bitter laugh escaped me. "It wasn't until I got older that I realized you simply wanted your 'space.'"

"Fine. I can accept that. Grandpa and Grandma treated me well."

I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the table. "When I was ten, do you remember what I wanted for my birthday?"

Silence.

A harsh laugh tore from my throat. "I just wanted you to take one day off to go to the amusement park with me. That wish has never been fulfilled. What's truly ridiculous is that I heard you took those two sponsored students there the very next week."

"At fifteen, you finally took me back in. But you criticized everything I did. Too loud. Too quiet. Too messy. Too *distinct*. You tried to mold me into someone else." I pinned them both with my stare. "Tell meon what grounds? You were absent for my entire childhood. What gives you the right to judge how I turned out?"

The blood drained from Mom's face. Her mouth opened. No words came.

Under the table, Aria tugged at my sleeve. Signaling me to apologize.

I shook my head.

"This card has two hundred thousand," Mom stammered, pulling a bank card from her purse. "Your dad and I borrowed it over the last two days. Take it. We'll pay you back the rest later."

She tried to shove the card into my hand.

I stepped back.

"I don't want the money anymore." My voice was formal. Final. "From today on, my life has nothing to do with you."