After a Warning from the Future, I Left My Brother No Way Out

03

Following the tip my future self had given me, I went out to Pemberton and took a look at the site in person. Sure enough, the units were already going on sale.

I found the sales office and bought twenty apartments outright, which cost me over ten million dollars. Then I handed all of them over to an agency and had them arrange renovation companies and list the units for rent.

Once that was settled, I stopped by a local gold shop and compared the current gold prices.

Gold was going for less than a hundred dollars a gram. But I noticed a problem: the price at the shop was cheap, yet there was no guarantee of purity.

While I was hesitating, my future self prompted me again, telling me to go straight to a bank and buy the bank's own gold bars.

I went right to the bank and bought a hundred kilograms of gold in one purchase, and I stored all of it there.

That much cash or valuables can only sit easy in a reliable place.

After all that, I still had tens of millions in savings. I figured I couldn't just leave that money sitting in my hands. I needed to find some other way to put it to use.

But before I could settle on what to do with it, it was time for me to head off and start work at the design company.

When I left, my stepmother's face was still sour. I didn't much care how she reacted. Once I got paid next month and handed the money over to her, she'd cheer up on her own.

Ever since I'd learned she wasn't my birth mother, I couldn't quite put a name to what I felt toward her.

My father was usually away, so she ran everything at home. Her whole reason for pushing me to move down to Los Angeles was probably that she'd found out our house was slated for redevelopment, and she wanted the payout to go to my brother.

Right as I was about to leave, I got a phone call from my father. He worked in the coal mine year-round and made it home only a few times a year, and calls from him were rarer still.

I didn't know what he wanted. When the line connected, his voice came through. "Oliver, your mom told me you're not going down south anymore, that you're taking a job at a design company. Does it pay well? You've still got to save up to get married. Your dad's got no real means, all the money ends up in your mom's hands, so getting yourself a wife is going to be on you."

His voice sounded worn out. I'd never seen him at work with my own eyes, but I could picture the conditions and how hard the labor was.

"Dad, don't worry about me. Just take care of yourself. If it really comes to it, come home. I'll support you."

I couldn't tell my father I was rich now, but supporting him was something I truly could manage.

"I'll be coming home soon. Two more years and the mine won't want me anymore, and then it'll be time to go home. So your dad won't be able to earn much more for you."

He said it so sadly that it left me uneasy just hearing it.

"Dad, don't think like that. I'm your son. Raising me was already more than enough. You really don't need to worry about me."

"You know she isn't your birth mother now," my father asked carefully.

I made a small sound of yes. Then he sighed. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you. Your real mom passed when you were one, and the mom you have now raised you. I think she's given a lot for this family too. I just want the four of us to have a plain, happy life."

It was the first time my father had ever said these things to me. In my mind, he'd only ever been the man who broke his back earning money to keep the family fed.

"To be honest, I didn't agree with your mom sending you south this time either. It's just as well you didn't go."

The two of them had been married so many years that it had become the norm for my stepmother to be the one in charge.

Whatever she decided, my father wasn't allowed to object.

I never expected that by not going south, I'd unknowingly fallen right in line with my father's wishes.

At the end, my father told me, "There's one thing I've kept from you all these years. Your mom and your brother's household registration aren't under our home. In other words, legally, the only relatives here are you and me, father and son."

Hearing that, it suddenly clicked why my stepmother was so set on my signing the property transfer. If the house really became my brother's, his registration would naturally fall under our household too.

My father and I had given them our whole hearts, and I'd never imagined the two of them could be scheming this deep.

That call was the longest my father and I had ever talked. What I never expected was that, soon after it, disaster struck him.