On my 28th birthday, my parents gave me documents officially disowning me. My sister even filmed my reaction so the entire family could mock me. I simply said, “Check the news in two days.” And two days later, they called crying, begging, “It was just a joke!” My answer was simple: TOO LATE.
The dining room of the Harrington family mansion was filled with candlelight and the aroma of fine Beef Wellington. But for me, Jason, this 28th birthday party tasted like an execution.
I sat at the end of the long dining table. My father, Arthur Harrington – a notoriously ruthless East Coast real estate mogul – sat at the head, sipping a $5,000 glass of red wine. My mother, Eleanor, sat beside me, not even glancing at me. And my sister, Tiffany, was busily adjusting her tripod and ring light in the middle of the table.
“Smile, Jason,” Tiffany said, her voice sweet but artificial. “It’s your big day. I want to record this moment for my YouTube channel. The theme today is: ‘When the failed child gets a well-deserved gift.'”
I remained silent. For the past 28 years, I had always been a thorn in their side. In a family that worshipped money and prestige, my refusal to work for the family corporation to pursue computer programming (“hiding in a dark room like a rat,” as my father put it) was an unforgivable crime. They cut off my financial support when I was 22. I lived in a dilapidated rented apartment, took the bus, and was rarely invited home except on occasions when they needed a punching bag to vent their anger on.
“Alright,” my father set his glass down. He pulled a thick yellow envelope from his vest pocket and tossed it across the polished wooden table. The envelope stopped right in front of me.
“Happy birthday, son,” he said, a sneering smirk on his face. “Open it.”
Tiffany pressed the record button. The red light on the recorder flashed.
I opened the envelope. Inside was a thick stack of legal documents, stamped with the red seal of the Family Law Office. The bolded title caught my eye: AGREEMENT TO TERMINATE INHERITANCE RIGHTS AND RENUNCIATION OF LEGAL RELATIONSHIP.
“That’s the official document,” my mother said, her voice cold. “Your parents have discussed this thoroughly. You’re 28, Jason. You’re useless. You’ve disgraced the Harrington family. We’ve decided to remove you from the Trust Fund, remove your name from the will, and essentially… we’re relinquishing our parental rights over you.”
“Sign the last page,” my father commanded. “In return, I’ll give you a $10,000 check to get you out of our lives forever. Never again use the Harrington name to borrow money or commit fraud.”
I looked at the paper, then at them. There was no compassion in their eyes. Only calculation and contempt remained. Tiffany giggled, zooming in on my face to capture my “distressed” expression.
“Hurry up, sign it, take the money, and get out,” Tiffany urged. “I need the drama for tonight’s video.”
I picked up the pen. My hand didn’t tremble. My heart didn’t ache. In fact, I felt relieved. A liberation.
I signed my name. Jason Vance (I’d long intended to change my last name).
I pushed the file back toward my father. But I didn’t take the $10,000 check. I tore it up right in front of Tiffany’s camera.
“Are you crazy?” Tiffany yelled. “$10,000! You’d work a whole year to earn that much!”
I stood up, adjusting my cheap jacket. I looked straight into the camera, then at each member of my family—the ones who had just officially become strangers.
“See the news in two days,” I said calmly.
“What news? That you got kicked out of your apartment?” My father laughed loudly, his laughter echoing throughout the large dining room.
“Just wait and see,” I smiled – a smile they had never seen on me before. “Goodbye.”
I walked out of the mansion, leaving behind their mocking laughter. Tiffany quickly posted the video on social media with the title: “The loser younger brother officially fired by his parents!!!
Chapter 2: 48 Hours of Revelry
For the next two days, Tiffany’s video spread among Greenwich’s high society. My parents’ friends texted them congratulating them on “getting rid of the tumor.” They threw celebratory parties, believing they had protected their fortune from their useless son.
They didn’t know that, in my shabby rented apartment, I hadn’t slept at all.
I, Jason, am not just a mediocre programmer. Five years ago, I co-founded a cybersecurity and artificial intelligence startup called “Aegis Core.” I operated anonymously under the name “J.V.” I suffered because I reinvested every penny of profit back into the company.
And the deal I negotiated for the past six months was officially closed yesterday afternoon.
Tech giant TechGiant acquired Aegis Core for $3.2 billion in cash.
I own 60% of the shares. After taxes, I’m worth nearly $1.5 billion.
But that’s not all. With that huge sum of money, the first thing I did wasn’t to buy supercars or mansions.
I called a team of top New York financial lawyers.
“Investigate the portfolio of Harrington Real Estate,” I ordered. “I want to know about their debts.”
The results were interesting. My father, with his reckless business habits and excessive borrowing to show off his wealth, was on the verge of bankruptcy.
He owes the Commercial Bank $200 million, and that debt is overdue and being put up for sale as bad debt to recover the capital.
“Buy the entire debt,” I told the lawyer. “At any cost. Immediately.”
Chapter 3: The Morning News
Monday morning. Two days after the birthday party.
At the Harrington mansion, my parents and Tiffany were sitting having breakfast, watching CNBC financial news as usual.
“The market looks good today,” my father said, taking a sip of coffee. “Hopefully the bank will extend our loan for another three months. I need time to turn around the capital.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Tiffany scrolled through her phone. “My video has 500,000 views. We’re famous.”
Suddenly, the “Breaking News” news segment appeared on the TV screen with bright red text.
“BILLION DOLLAR DEAL: STARTUP AEGIS CORE ACQUIRED FOR $3.2 BILLION.”
“Well, another nerd hit the jackpot,” my dad sneered enviously.
The host continued: “And the biggest surprise is the identity of the mysterious founder J.V., who holds the majority stake, revealed this morning. It’s Jason Vance, formerly known as Jason Harrington, son of real estate mogul Arthur Harrington.”
My dad’s coffee cup fell to the floor. Crash.
The TV screen showed my image. Not me in my old birthday suit. It was me in a $10,000 custom-made suit, shaking hands with the CEO of TechGiant.
“What… what?” My mother stammered, her face drained of color. “Jason? $3.2 billion?”
Tiffany gasped, her phone dropping from her hand. “No way… He’s a loser… He lives in rented accommodation…”
But the news didn’t stop there.
The presenter moved on to the next item: “In a dramatic development, Vance Capital, founded by the newly emerging billionaire Jason Vance, has just announced that it has completed the acquisition of all of Harrington Real Estate’s bad debt from the bank. With this move, Jason Vance officially becomes the sole creditor and takes control of all of the Harrington family’s collateral, including the Greenwich mansion.”
Chapter 4: The Desperate Call
The air in the dining room seemed to be drained of oxygen.
My father clutched his chest, gasping for breath. He understood what this meant. He no longer owed the bank. He owed me. And as the creditor holding the overdue debt, I have the right to seize the property immediately.
My father’s phone rang. It was his lawyer. “Mr. Arthur! It’s a big deal! The bank just announced they’ve sold the debt. The new creditor… is your son! They just sent a notice demanding full payment of $200 million within 24 hours, or they’ll seize the property!”
My father hung up, his hands trembling.
“Call him!” my mother yelled, utterly panicked. “Call Jason right now! He’s our son! He can’t do this!”
“But we just disowned him…” Tiffany said, her voice shaking. “I even posted the video…”
“Delete the video immediately!” my father roared. “Call him!”
My father dialed my number. He’d deleted mine a long time ago; he’d have to find it in his old contacts.
I was sitting in my new Manhattan office, looking down at the city from the 50th floor. The phone rang.
I answered.
“Jason! My son!” My father’s voice rang out, sickeningly sweet, mixed with utter fear. “It’s me! Have you seen the news? Congratulations! We’re so proud of you! I knew you were talented!”
My mother snatched the phone, sobbing, “Jason! I’m so sorry! What happened the other day… that note… it was just a joke! We were just testing your courage! You know we love you the most! We’re family!”
Tiffany chimed in, “I deleted the video, Jason! I was just joking! You’re the best brother ever! Come home, let’s have a celebration!”
I listened silently to their charade. These people, just 48 hours ago, had thrown a note in my face and torn my self-respect apart. Now that they knew I held their fate in my hands, they did a complete 180-degree turn.
“Just kidding?” I asked, my voice calm.
“Yes! Just kidding!” My father hastily asserted. “That paper is worthless! Let’s tear it up, shall we? Come home, I’ll hand over the company to you! You’ll be the sole heir!”
I laughed. The cold laughter echoed through the phone, silencing them.
“Have you forgotten?” I said. “I signed that paper. Legally, I’m no longer your son. I’m Jason Vance. And I’m your creditor.”
“Jason, don’t…” My mother pleaded.
“My answer is simple,” I snarled. “IT’S TOO LATE.”
Chapter 5: The Finale
“I give you 24 hours to get out of my mansion,” I declared coldly. “My lawyer will be here tomorrow morning to seal the property. Everything belonging to the company: house, car, bank accounts… will be frozen to offset the debt.”
“You can’t do that! I’m your father!” My father yelled in despair.
“You relinquished that right on my birthday, Mr. Arthur,” I replied.
Now, this is just a business matter. And in business, he was a failure.
I hung up.
The next day, I didn’t go to the mansion. I didn’t want to see their faces. I just sent my lawyers and security team to take over.
Tiffany called me hundreds of times, texting and begging me to let her keep the Porsche and the handbag collection. I blocked her number.
My parents were forced to leave the house they had flaunted their whole lives. They left empty-handed, as all their assets were mortgaged for the huge debt I had bought.
They moved to a small rented apartment in the suburbs, living on meager social welfare benefits. The upper class community turned their backs on them immediately when they learned of their bankruptcy. Tiffany’s video was dug up again, but this time, people weren’t laughing at me. They were laughing at the stupidity and cruelty of the Harrington family.
A month later, I stood in front of my family’s old mansion, now mine. I looked at the sign. “Harrington Estate” was taken down.
I didn’t feel the satisfaction I expected. I only felt an emptiness. But it was a clean emptiness. I had cut out the malignant tumor of my life.
I turned my back and walked away. I had $1.5 billion and a future ahead of me to build a real family of my own – a family that would never know the word “give up.”
