PART 1: THE ABYSS AND THE SAVING HAND

Chapter 1: Darkness Under the Golden Gate

San Francisco at night is not as romantic as it appears on postcards. Under the overpass of Highway 101, the sea breeze carried the salty scent of brine and a bone-chilling cold that seeped through the layers of flimsy cardboard I was using as a blanket.

My name is Arthur Penhaligon. Six months ago, I was the owner of a three-story Victorian house in Pacific Heights worth 4 million dollars. Tonight, my only assets are a torn backpack containing a few dirty clothes and half a sandwich scavenged from a Starbucks dumpster.

I curled up, trying to find some warmth from my own breath. The sound of traffic rumbling overhead felt like the crushing weight of fate. But the cold of the weather was not as terrifying as the cold in my heart.

Memories of that day came flooding back, sharp as a blade.

It was my 68th birthday. Jason and Emily, the twins I had raised alone for 30 years after my wife passed away, threw a small party.

“Dad,” Jason said, pouring me a glass of expensive wine. “You’re getting older, managing a big house like this is too strenuous. Property taxes are skyrocketing. Emily and I have discussed it, and we think you should transfer ownership to us to ‘optimize taxes’. We will cover all expenses; you just need to enjoy your retirement.”

Emily held my hand, her eyes welling up with emotion: “We just want what’s best for you, Dad. Don’t you trust us?”

I trusted them. I signed. The die was cast.

Two weeks later, the door locks were changed. A restraining order was taped to the front door citing that I “showed signs of dementia and threatened violence.” They dumped me into a dilapidated nursing home in the suburbs using my meager remaining pension. And when I escaped that prison to go back home for an explanation, I found the house already had a “Sold” sign hanging on it.

I became homeless. No phone, no money, and most painfully, no family.

“Hey old man, move it!” A drug-addicted drifter kicked my leg.

I scrambled up, clutching my empty stomach, dragging my feet toward the river’s edge. The city lights reflecting on the murky water looked like eyes mocking me.

Suddenly, a blinding beam of light swept across.

A sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom, long as a killer whale, slowly pulled up right at the edge of the road leading down to the underpass. The sight was so bizarre that the group of homeless people stopped rummaging through trash to stare.

The car door opened. A uniformed chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door.

A woman stepped out. She wore a pristine white mink coat, high heels, her silver hair styled in an elegant bun. She showed no sign of disgust at the stench of this place. She looked around, her sharp gaze sweeping across every grimy face, and stopped at me.

“Arthur?”

That voice. I hadn’t heard it in ten years.

I intended to turn and run. I didn’t want her to see me in this pathetic state. But my legs betrayed me, buckling from exhaustion.

“Sister… Evelyn?” I wheezed.

Evelyn Penhaligon – my older sister. The one who left the family at 18 to build her own life and is now one of the most powerful real estate billionaires on the West Coast. We hadn’t spoken since I rejected her advice about not spoiling the children too much.

Evelyn walked quickly over, her expensive shoes stepping into a puddle of filth. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands in soft leather gloves gripping my tattered coat tight.

“My God, Arthur,” she exclaimed, her voice not filled with pity, but with suppressed rage. “Look at you. Did you let those vultures pick you clean to the bone like this?”

I burst into tears. The tears of an old man, bitter and humiliated.

“Let’s go home,” Evelyn said decisively. “The game of foolish benevolence ends here.”

Chapter 2: Rebirth in Silk

I woke up in a room flooded with light.

Not the cold light of streetlamps, but the warm sunshine of California. I was lying on a King-sized bed as soft as a cloud.

I sat up, looking around. This was a top-tier penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened to a breathtaking view of the blue Malibu beach.

“You’re awake?”

Evelyn was sitting on a nearby sofa, holding a cup of tea, eyes glued to an iPad. She had changed into an elegant cream-colored silk outfit.

“Where is this?” I asked, my voice still hoarse.

“Your new home,” Evelyn replied casually, putting down the tea cup. “I bought it this morning under your name. Fully furnished, and most importantly, top-notch security. No one can enter here without my permission.”

I was stunned. “Sister Evelyn, I can’t…”

“Don’t speak,” she interrupted, standing up and walking toward me. She placed a black credit card and the latest model smartphone on the table.

“There is 5 million dollars in this account. I just transferred it to you. Consider it a late birthday present, and capital for you to rebuild your life.”

5 million dollars. The number made my head spin.

“Why?” I asked, tears threatening to spill again. “After everything I said to you ten years ago? That you were a cold-blooded person who only cared about money?”

Evelyn smiled, a sad smile. “Because I am your sister, Arthur. And because I know you weren’t wrong to love your children, you were only wrong to believe that love is enough to stop greed.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand.

“Arthur, listen to me. I had a private investigator look into it. Jason and Emily sold your old house right after kicking you out. They used that money to buy supercars, travel, and invest in some garbage crypto projects. They are squandering money on your blood, sweat, and tears.”

Hearing that, my heart felt like it was being squeezed. I had always deluded myself that they were in financial trouble so they had to do it. But no, they were simply greedy.

“What should I do?” I asked, feeling helpless.

“You don’t need to do anything. Just live well,” Evelyn said, a sharp glint in her eyes. “But there is one condition. You must not contact them first. Let them come to you.”

“Will they come? They threw me away.”

“Trust me,” Evelyn smirked. “Vultures have a very keen nose for the scent of money. I ‘accidentally’ leaked news about a person named Arthur Penhaligon buying this penthouse in a real estate magazine that Jason often reads. The game is just beginning.”

Chapter 3: The Uninvited Guests

A week passed.

I began to get used to my new life. I ate well, dressed well, and had my health taken care of. The physical wounds healed, but the scars in my heart still bled every night.

I stood on the balcony, watching the waves crash onto the sand. This wealth did not bring me the complete joy I imagined. It only made me feel lonelier. I missed the old days, when my wife was alive, when the children were small and running around the garden. How did those innocent children become the monsters of today?

Ding Dong.

The doorbell rang.

My heart pounded. The security system reported guests in the lobby. The camera showed two familiar faces.

Jason and Emily.

They looked more haggard than I thought, or perhaps they were deliberately wearing makeup to look that way.

I called Evelyn. “They’re here.”

“Remember carefully, Arthur,” Evelyn’s voice came through the tiny earpiece she made me wear. “Do not soften your heart. Observe. Look closely at their smiles. And remember the night you slept under the bridge.”

I took a deep breath, pressing the button to open the private elevator doors.

Five minutes later, the door opened.

“DAD!”

Emily rushed in first, tears streaming down like summer rain. She ran to hug me, the scent of expensive perfume filling my nose.

“Oh my God, Dad! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Emily sobbed, burying her head in my chest. “Where have you been? Why did you leave without saying a word?”

Jason followed, holding a large fruit basket. He bowed his head, his face full of remorse and pain.

“Dad, we’re sorry. Truly sorry,” Jason said, his voice trembling. “It’s our fault. We let you misunderstand.”

I stood rooted to the spot, arms hanging limp. Misunderstand? Kicking your father out of the house, changing locks, getting a restraining order is a misunderstanding?

“What misunderstanding?” I asked, my voice colder than I expected.

Emily let go of me, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes full of guilt. “Dad, that day we only wanted to take you to a nursing home so you could get better medical care for a few weeks while we renovated the house. We wanted to surprise you! But then you ran away from the home, and we’ve been frantically searching for months.”

“Renovated the house?” I frowned. “Then why did the house have a ‘Sold’ sign?”

Jason quickly replied: “That was… um… we sold it to buy a better one for the whole extended family to live together! We intended to use that money to bring you home to live with us, but couldn’t contact you.”

The lies were as slippery as eels. If Evelyn hadn’t told me the truth, maybe I would have believed them. Or maybe, a part of me wanted to believe.

“Dad,” Jason looked around the magnificent penthouse, his eyes lighting up seeing the gold-plated furniture and the million-dollar view. He couldn’t hide the greed in his eyes. “Dad… how did you get this place? And I heard you won the lottery or got an inheritance?”

“That’s right,” I lied according to Evelyn’s script. “An old friend of mine passed away and left me everything. 5 million dollars and this apartment.”

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.

Emily stopped crying. She wiped her tears, flashing a smile so bright it was blinding. “Oh, that’s wonderful! God has blessed you! See Dad, after the rain comes the sun! So our family can be together again!”

“Together?” I asked again.

“Yes!” Jason stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder familiarly. “Dad, you’re old, living alone here is very lonely. Emily and I are renting a cramped apartment (another lie, Evelyn said they were in a rented villa). We will move in here to take care of you. We will manage your assets for you so you don’t get scammed by outsiders.”

Scammed. That word coming from his mouth sounded so ironic.

“You don’t know, Dad,” Emily added, “There are so many scams these days. You need family protection.”

I looked at my two children. Their smiles, their eyes, everything exuded a fake aura that was chilling. But painfully, these were still the faces I had kissed thousands of times when they were babies.

“Alright,” I said, suppressing the nausea rising in my throat. “Let’s have dinner. Dad needs to think.”

“Wonderful!” Jason clapped his hands. “I knew you would forgive us. Family comes first, right Dad?”

Yes, family comes first. But who is the real family?

PART 2: THE PLAY OF GREED

Chapter 4: Dinner of Fake Smiles

I invited Jason and Emily to return the next evening for a “reunion” dinner. They arrived right on time, dressed sharply like successful entrepreneurs. Emily even brought a bottle of expensive Chateau Margaux wine – the kind I used to only dare admire through a glass cabinet.

“Cheers to Dad!” Emily raised her glass, the smile constantly on her lips never fading since she walked in the door. “Cheers to our family’s new beginning!”

I raised my glass of water (I don’t drink alcohol due to blood pressure), watching them drink the blood-red wine.

“Dad,” Jason put down his glass, getting straight to the point as soon as the appetizers were served. “I’ve looked at the market. This apartment is valuable, true, but the management fees are too high. I have a broker friend who says if we sell this unit and invest in a resort project in Florida, we can double that 5 million dollars in 2 years.”

“That’s right, Dad,” Emily chimed in, cutting her steak elegantly. “Plus, the climate in Florida is warmer, better for your joints. I will quit my job (she’s actually been unemployed for 3 months) to go with you and take care of you.”

I looked at them, my heart ice cold. They hadn’t even moved in yet, and already they were calculating how to sell the house and seize the money.

“I find this place very good,” I said slowly. “I don’t want to move anywhere.”

Jason’s face hardened for a split second, but he quickly regained his solicitous expression. “Dad, you don’t understand investing. Leaving money idle is dead money. Sign the power of attorney for asset management to me. I’m the eldest son, I have a responsibility to look after the future of the Penhaligon line.”

“Responsibility?” I chuckled softly. “Like the responsibility you showed when you put me in the nursing home?”

The atmosphere at the dinner table sagged. Emily hurriedly grabbed my hand. ” are you still angry about that? I told you it was a misunderstanding. We were… under so much work pressure, we weren’t thinking straight.”

“Exactly, Dad,” Jason added. “We promise never to let that happen again. Look Dad, we are here, kneeling before you (he was still sitting in his chair) to ask for your forgiveness. Are you going to let outsiders enjoy this money? Who are you planning to leave it to? That wicked Aunt Evelyn?”

Mentioning Evelyn, I saw a glint of hatred in Jason’s eyes. He always hated Evelyn because she never lent him money to squander.

“Evelyn doesn’t need my money,” I replied.

“She’s a witch!” Emily hissed. “Don’t trust her Dad. Only children are your own flesh and blood. Sign the papers, and tomorrow I’ll take you to a spa to relax.”

They pulled out a thick file they had prepared. Asset transfer papers, full power of attorney. The script repeated exactly like six months ago. The only difference was this time, the bait was bigger, and the knife in the back was sharper.

Chapter 5: The Truth Exposed

I picked up the pen. Jason and Emily held their breath, eyes glued to the nib. They were like hungry beasts waiting for a piece of meat to fall.

But instead of signing, I tapped the pen lightly on the marble table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Do you know,” I began, my voice lowering, “That when I lay under the bridge, the thing I craved most wasn’t a hamburger or a warm blanket?”

Jason frowned, losing patience. “Why are you talking philosophy now, Dad? Sign it, the soup is getting cold.”

“The thing I craved most,” I continued, ignoring him, “Was an explanation. Why could the children I sacrificed my whole life to raise, starving myself so they could attend private schools, cruelly throw me away like an expired item?”

“Dad’s getting senile again,” Emily sighed, rolling her eyes. “Sign quickly Dad, I’m tired.”

“I am not senile,” I looked up, staring straight into Emily’s eyes. My gaze at that moment was no longer that of a weak old man, but of a father teaching his children one final lesson. “I know you sold the old house for 3.8 million dollars. I know Jason lost 1 million dollars on football betting. I know Emily used 500 thousand dollars to bribe your terrible boyfriend to come back.”

Blood drained from both their faces. Jason stood up abruptly, knocking over his wine glass.

“Who? Who told you?” He roared, the mask of filial piety shattering into pieces.

“It was me.”

A commanding voice rang out from the door.

The master bedroom door opened. Evelyn stepped out, magnificent and powerful like a queen. Following her were two large bodyguards in black suits.

“Aunt Evelyn?” Emily stammered, backing away behind her chair.

“Surprised, you little rats?” Evelyn walked over, standing beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder like a solid shield. “Did you think Arthur was old and senile, knowing nothing? Did you think I would let my brother be torn apart by you a second time?”

“You… you set a trap for us!” Jason pointed at Evelyn’s face, his face red. “You leaked the news about this apartment to lure us here!”

“Smart,” Evelyn smirked. “But not smart enough to be good people. I wanted Arthur to see your true faces with his own eyes. Not through my retelling, but seeing for himself just how greedy and brazen you are.”

“Dad!” Jason turned to me, his voice shifting from aggressive to pleading, but full of menace. “Dad, don’t listen to her! She wants to divide us! We are your biological children!”

“Biological?” I stood up, feeling a strange strength rising in my chest. I picked up the file on the table.

Rip!

I tore the file in half right in front of them.

“Biological children wouldn’t let their father freeze to death under a bridge,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion but full of resolve. “Biological children wouldn’t look at their father like an ATM. You aren’t here because you love me. You’re here because of the smell of 5 million dollars.”

“Crazy old man!” Jason shouted, intending to lunge at me.

But Evelyn’s two bodyguards were faster. They restrained Jason and Emily in a blink.

“Let me go! This is my father’s house! I have a right to be here!” Emily screamed, struggling.

“Wrong,” I said, looking at them one last time. A look of farewell. “This house is in Aunt Evelyn’s name. And that 5 million dollars… it’s in a trust fund where I only enjoy the monthly interest, with no right to withdraw the principal or transfer it. Evelyn arranged everything to protect me from you.”

That truth was like a bucket of ice water thrown in their faces. The hope of seizing assets vanished like soap bubbles.

“Kick them out of here,” Evelyn ordered coldly. “And if I see your faces lurking around here again, I will put you in jail for elder abuse and financial fraud. The paperwork for the sale of Arthur’s old house still has plenty of legal loopholes.”

The two bodyguards dragged Jason and Emily to the door. Their curses, pleas, and screams echoed down the hallway then faded as the elevator doors closed.

The room returned to silence. Only the sound of ocean waves murmuring outside remained.

I slumped into the chair, feeling like I had just lifted a thousand-pound rock, but at the same time, my heart broke into pieces.

PART 3: THE CONCLUSION OF AWAKENING

Chapter 6: The Value of Kinship

After the children were kicked out, I sat in silence for a long time before the lavish but now cold dinner. The expensive wine bottle remained open, emitting a fragrant but sour scent.

Evelyn said nothing. She poured herself a cup of tea, sat opposite me, waiting patiently. She knew I needed time to “mourn” the father-child relationship that had died.

“Are you okay?” Evelyn asked softly after a long while.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, looking at my wrinkled hands. “I feel relieved, but also like a failure. I failed at being a father, Evelyn. How did I raise them to become like that?”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Evelyn said, her voice rarely gentle. “You gave them too much love, but lacked strictness. You shielded them from every storm, making them think the world owed them a prosperous life. That is the tragedy of fathers who love their children too much.”

She stood up, walking out to the balcony, the sea breeze blowing her silk dress.

“Arthur, do you know why I never had children?” Evelyn asked, not turning her head.

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid. I was afraid I would love them blindly, or afraid they would love my wealth more than me. I chose loneliness in exchange for safety. But you… you were braver than me. You dared to love and sacrifice. Even if the result is bitter, your love was real.”

I walked out to stand beside her. Looking down at the shimmering city lights in the distance, I suddenly realized something.

“You are not lonely, Evelyn,” I said. “You came to find me. You saved me. You are my family.”

Evelyn turned, her eyes glistening with water. She took my hand, squeezing tight. Two old siblings stood there, leaning on each other before the vast ocean.

“We have each other left, Arthur. The Penhaligon bloodline has not ended.”

Chapter 7: New Life

One year later.

My life has changed completely, but not in a way of meaningless lavish enjoyment.

With Evelyn’s help, I used part of the interest from the trust fund to open a shelter for elderly homeless people – people like me a year ago. I call it “Arthur’s Haven”.

Every day, I no longer sit looking at the sea in solitude. I go to the center, help distribute food, talk with old friends, help them find identification papers or connect with social services. I found joy in helping others stand up from the mire I once went through.

As for Jason and Emily, I heard they were broke. After I cut off aid, creditors came looking. They had to sell all their supercars, designer goods, and move into a dilapidated boarding house in the suburbs. Sometimes, I receive letters, calls from strange numbers, crying and begging, but I never answer.

I learned the most expensive lesson of my life: Forgiveness does not mean allowing others to hurt you again.

One afternoon, while I was watering plants on the balcony, Evelyn came to visit. She looked healthier and more radiant than before.

“I have a gift for you,” she handed me an envelope.

Inside was a photo. A candid shot of Jason working as a server at a fast-food joint, and Emily working as a cashier at a supermarket. They looked tired, aged ten years, no longer having the arrogant look of the past.

“I thought you needed to see this,” Evelyn said. “They are having to work to make a living. For the first time in their lives.”

I looked at the photo, my heart no longer rippling with hatred.

“Good,” I smiled slightly. “That is the best lesson for them. Hopefully one day, they will understand the value of money and kinship.”

“Do you plan to see them again?”

“Maybe,” I looked out at the sea. “But not now. When they have paid off their debts to life, and when they come to find me not for money but because they need a father… then I will open the door.”

Evelyn nodded in agreement. She poured two glasses of red wine.

“Here, a toast to Arthur Penhaligon,” she said. “The man who went from under the bridge back to the penthouse, and more importantly, found himself again.”

I clinked glasses with my sister. The clear sound of glass hitting glass rang out in the windy space.

I used to think losing the house was losing everything. But it turned out, that was the price I had to pay to buy back freedom and truth. And that price, though expensive, was completely worth it.

Under the brilliant California sunset, I found my heart strangely at peace. I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor.