Sixteen years ago, my uncle gifted me a studio apartment. Today, its value has skyrocketed to $8.65 million. My uncle suddenly called, saying he urgently needed $3.4 million for a crisis. I was a bit hesitant; after all, it's a massive amount of money. Unexpectedly, my husband jumped in before I could speak: "When your uncle gave you that condo back then, he definitely wasn't expecting anything in return, right?" I nodded. He sneered: "Then what right does he have to ask you for money now? "What he gave you back then is yours. Now that the property is worth a fortune, he wants to leech off it? Keep dreaming!" I froze completely. And my uncle, on the other end of the line, heard every single word. 1 A dead silence fell over the phone line. That silence, transmitted through the receiver, was like a freezing steel needle piercing straight into my eardrum. Every second felt like being roasted in boiling oil. I could imagine how my uncle's honest, good-natured face must have turned ashen in that instant. "Uncle..." I forced the word out, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with waterlogged cotton. Beep. The call was disconnected. It wasn't an angry slam of the phone, but the kind of disconnect where the phone simply slips from powerless fingers. My hand was still frozen in mid-air, the phone screen already dark. The bright lights in the living room now made me shiver with cold. Arthur, my husband, the man I had shared a bed with for five years, sat on the sofa opposite me. His face showed not a sliver of guilt; he even looked somewhat smug. "See? Hangs up the moment I call him out. Guilty conscience." He picked up an apple from the coffee table and took a huge bite, the crisp sound echoing in the room. "I'm doing this for your own good, Chloe." "You're just too soft-hearted, too easily swayed." "These poor relatives, they just see you living well now, your property worth a fortune, and think they can come looking for a handout." "Today he has the nerve to ask for three point four million. Tomorrow he'll ask for more." "It's a bottomless pit, and we are not jumping in." Every word he said was like a poisoned knife, accurately stabbing the softest part of my heart. I looked at him. This face that I once thought was incredibly handsome and reliable now seemed so foreign, so ugly. "Arthur, that's my uncle." My voice was trembling, carrying an anger I hadn't even realized I possessed. "When my parents passed away, all my relatives avoided me like the plague." "It was my uncle. He emptied his life savings to buy me this condo, just to give me a roof over my head." "That kind of grace can't be measured with money." Arthur scoffed, casually tossing the apple core into the trash can. "Grace? Can grace put food on the table?" "Wake up, Chloe! What kind of society do we live in now? You're still hung up on that sentimental nonsense?" "When he bought you that condo, how much was it worth? A couple hundred grand, tops." "And now? Eight point six five million!" His eyes gleamed with greed. The number coming from his mouth carried a scorching heat. "He's trying to use a couple hundred grand investment to cash out over eight million from us." "He's got it all figured out, hasn't he?" I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head in an instant. So in his eyes, my uncle's kindness was nothing more than a calculated investment. "Us?" I caught the specific word he used, a chill rising from the soles of my feet. "Arthur, this condo is my pre-marital asset." His face darkened instantly. "Chloe, what is that supposed to mean?" "We are husband and wife. Isn't what's yours also mine?" "Have I not worked hard for this family? Do I get no credit?" He started listing all his "sacrifices" over the years. Going to work every day, accompanying me to visit my family during the holidays. He even painted himself as a peerless, devoted husband who worked tirelessly for our family without complaint. But I only felt a deep sense of irony. We've been married for five years, and I've borne the brunt of the household expenses. Because my salary is higher than his. As for his money, in his words, "A man needs to socialize and save up for big things." Now, he was starting to dream about that eight point six five million. "Once we sell this place, we'll upgrade to a big mansion in the Southside, the kind with a garden." "And we'll buy a starter home downtown for my brother. He's not getting any younger." "With the rest, we'll put it in savings, and that covers our future kids' college funds." He planned it out so naturally. As if my uncle's existence was solely to provide him and his family with a more luxurious life. My heart went completely cold. This man, whom I had loved for five years, who I thought would be my rock for life. In the end, in his world, family ties, gratitude, everything paled in comparison to a fraction of that money. I didn't want to argue with him anymore. Any words felt pale and powerless in the face of such naked greed. I turned, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door. Shutting out all his filthy words. I dug out an old photo album from the deepest part of my nightstand. The cover of the album was yellowed, the edges frayed. On the very first page was a photo of me and my uncle. I was sixteen that year, having just lost my parents, as thin as a reed. I wore an ill-fitting school uniform, my eyes full of fear and confusion. My uncle stood beside me, his rough, broad hand wrapped tightly around my shoulder. His face showed unconcealable exhaustion, but the look he gave me was full of determination and tenderness. The background of the photo was the very studio apartment I was living in now. Back then, this place was just a barren construction site. But my uncle pointed at the site and said to me: "Chloe, don't be afraid. This will be your home from now on." Tears, without any warning, smashed onto the photo album, blurring a small patch. The bedroom door was violently pushed open. Arthur barged in, reeking of alcohol. "Chloe, I'm warning you, you are not allowed to contact that uncle of yours again!" His face was flushed, his eyes fierce. "And don't you dare bring up money! Not a single word!" "If you dare give him money behind my back, we are done!" I looked at him coldly. "Arthur, what gives you the right?" He was enraged by my glare, his voice sharply rising. "What gives me the right? Because I'm your husband!" "Everything you eat, wear, and use, what isn't provided by our Vance family?" "You're just an orphan with no parents! If I hadn't been blind enough to marry you, who knows where you'd be drifting right now!" "Do you really think you're some city socialite?" "Let me tell you, not a single one of those poor beggars from your side of the family is getting a dime from me!" Every sentence was like a resounding slap, landing hard on my face. So, in his heart, I was always just that orphan who had nothing. All my value was attached to that constantly appreciating piece of real estate. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. That laughter even felt strange to myself—shrill, yet full of desolation. This night was destined to be sleepless. I kept my eyes open, staring at the ceiling until the first glimmer of dawn peeked through the window. I made a decision. No matter what, I had to help my uncle. Even if it meant selling this condo. 2 The next day, the doorbell rang urgently and loudly. Through the peephole, I saw my mother-in-law, Martha's, face etched with anxiety. I knew Arthur's "reinforcements" had arrived. I opened the door, and Martha shoved past me, charging straight in. "Oh, my poor boy, what happened to you? You look awful." She grabbed Arthur's hand, looking him up and down as if he had suffered a massive grievance. Arthur immediately played along, putting on an exhausted and helpless expression. Martha turned her head, her gaze landing on me like a spotlight. "Chloe, I heard." "Your uncle wants to borrow money from you?" The probing in her tone was as sharp as a needle. I gave a flat "Mm." "How much?" "Over three million." Martha gasped, her voice instantly becoming shrill. "Over three million? Why doesn't he just go rob a bank!" "He's trying to drain our family dry!" I looked at her coldly: "Mom, that's my uncle, not a stranger." "And, he just needs it to turn things around. It's not like he won't pay it back." Martha plopped onto the sofa and started slapping her thigh, wailing. "What 'turn things around'? When poor relatives borrow money, it's like throwing meat buns at a dog—it never comes back!" "Chloe, oh Chloe, you can't be so heartless!" "You've married into our Vance family now! Everything you have belongs to the Vance family!" "That condo of yours, even though you bought it before we got married, you married our Arthur, so it's our family's property too!" Her logic was literally the logic of a robber. I laughed out of sheer anger. "Mom, that's really interesting." "Since when did my condo become your family's property?" Seeing I wasn't buying it, Martha immediately changed her tune. She stopped crying, a shrewd, calculating look appearing on her face. "Chloe, let's do this." "Just to be safe, and to make your uncle completely give up." "Add Arthur's name to the property deed." "That way, this condo becomes our joint marital property, and it won't be so easy for him to scheme for it." Finally, she showed her true colors. This was the real reason she came today. I refused without hesitation. "Impossible." My one word was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing her scheming. Martha's face instantly turned a deep shade of purple. "You! You ungrateful wretch!" "Our Vance family must have had eight lifetimes of bad luck to marry a traitor like you!" Arthur, who had been silent on the side, finally found an opportunity to interject. He stood up, walked over to me, and looked down at me from a commanding height. "Chloe, what exactly do you take me and my mom for?" "We are a family!" "Why divide yours and mine in a family?" "You guarding against us like this, have you already planned your way out?" Every accusation he made felt like he was slapping a label of selfishness onto me. I was trembling with anger. "A family?" "My uncle is waiting for life-saving money right now, and what did you guys do?" "Have you treated them like family for even a second?" Martha jumped up from the sofa, pointing at my nose and cursing. "Whether your uncle's son lives or dies, what does it have to do with our Vance family?" "Why should we use our own money to fill their bottomless pit?" That sentence was like a thunderclap exploding in my brain. I looked at the mother and son in front of me, at their self-righteous, cold-blooded, and ruthless faces. For the first time, I truly, genuinely entertained the thought of divorce. This home was not my home. They were not my family. They were just two leeches entrenched on my property, vainly attempting to suck me dry of my last drop of blood. I took a deep breath, suppressing the surging nausea in my stomach. "Get out." My voice wasn't loud, but it carried unquestionable resolve. Arthur and Martha were both stunned. They probably never expected that the usually docile me would say such a thing. "What did you say?" Arthur's eyes widened. "I said, get out of my condo." I enunciated every word clearly. Martha reacted and tried to lunge at me, throwing a tantrum. "You little bitch, you dare kick me out! I'll beat you to death!" I sidestepped to avoid her and used all my strength to push them both toward the door. Arthur was still trying to reason, or rather, threaten me. "Chloe, you're crazy! You're going to sever ties with us over an outsider?" I didn't answer. I just forcefully shoved them out the door. Then, with a loud bang, I slammed the door shut. I turned the key and deadbolted it. The world was finally quiet. I leaned against the cold door, my body sliding down uncontrollably. Yet a voice inside me told me with absolute clarity: This condo, this last shred of dignity, no one is going to take it away. 3 I sat on the cold floor until my legs went numb. After calming down, the first thing I did was return my uncle's call. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. "Hello?" It was my aunt's voice, thick with a nasal tone and exhaustion. "Auntie, it's me, Chloe." "Where's Uncle?" The line was silent for a moment before my uncle's hoarse voice came through. "Chloe." "Uncle is fine, don't worry." "Yesterday... I was out of line. Don't fight with your husband over it." He was still thinking of me. My eyes instantly welled up. "Uncle, please don't say that." "I'm the one who's sorry." "What exactly happened? You have to tell me." Under my persistent questioning, my uncle finally told me the truth. My cousin, Leo, was diagnosed with acute leukemia. He needed an immediate bone marrow transplant. A match had been found, but the exorbitant $3.4 million surgical fee was like a mountain crushing this already modest family. "...Your cousin is still young, only twenty-five..." My uncle's voice choked up. "The doctor said as long as we have the money, the success rate of the surgery is very high..." On my end of the line, I was already in tears. That was life-saving money. And I, because of Arthur's bastard words, had wasted precious time. Guilt and self-blame drowned me like a tidal wave. "Uncle, don't worry." I wiped my tears, my voice carrying a firmness that even surprised me. "I'll figure out the money." "I will definitely get the money together for you in the shortest possible time." Hanging up, I immediately opened my mobile banking app to check the joint account Arthur and I shared. But when I saw the balance, I was completely stunned. $36,217. We had been married for five years, and our combined salaries were over $30,000 a month. Minus daily expenses and the mortgage, we should have had at least a seven-figure sum saved up over five years. But now, there was only this fraction left. My heart sank, inch by inch. I called Arthur immediately. When the call connected, his voice still carried anger. "What? Figured it out? Ready to apologize to my mom?" I ignored his blustering and asked directly: "Where is the money in our joint account?" Arthur clearly paused. "What money? Isn't it all in the card?" "Arthur, I'll ask you one more time. Where did the money go?" My voice was ice-cold. He probably sensed something was wrong with me and started stammering. "It... it didn't go anywhere..." "It's just... my brother needed to buy a car a while ago, so I helped him out a bit." "Also, my parents' old house in the hometown needed renovating, so I took some money for that too..." "We're all family, there's no need to draw such a clear line..." My heart felt like it was being sliced open with a dull knife, cut by cut. So that was it. So the money I had worked so hard to save had become his capital to subsidize his original family. He used my money to play the role of the "filial son" and "good brother" for his family. Yet, when my uncle's family was waiting for life-saving money, he spouted those cold-blooded, vicious words. I finally understood. In his heart, we were never a family. I was just an outsider, a host providing flesh and blood for him and his family. This realization struck me like lightning, leaving me freezing cold. I couldn't rely on him. There was only one way left. Sell this apartment. I opened my laptop and started searching for real estate agents online. This place, which held all my youth and memories, my only sanctuary. Now, it was going to be used to save another family member's life. I think, if this condo had feelings, it would support me too. My actions were quickly discovered by Arthur. Probably through my computer's browsing history. He stormed into the study like an enraged lion. "Chloe! Don't you dare!" He pointed at the agent's contact info on the screen, his eyes bloodshot. "Let me tell you, don't even think about selling this condo!" "Don't even dream about it!" I looked up and met his gaze calmly. "Arthur, we're done." My relationship with him had completely hit rock bottom from the moment he insulted my uncle. And now, we were in the abyssal depths below that rock bottom. 4 Arthur and my mother-in-law, in an effort to stop me from selling the condo, started a ridiculous farce. They shadowed me constantly. If I went to the bathroom, my mother-in-law would stand guard at the door. If I went to the kitchen for water, Arthur would follow right behind me. They acted like two prison guards, watching me as if I were a hardened criminal. What's worse, they confiscated my ID card, my household register, and the original property deed. "Chloe, let's see how you sell the condo without these!" Arthur locked the documents in a safe, the smugness of a victor on his face. My mother-in-law chimed in from the side: "Exactly, let's see what you can do now!" "Just stay home quietly and stop thinking about all that nonsense." They thought this would give them complete control over me. I didn't resist. I didn't even argue with them. I just watched them silently, like watching a comical play. My submission made them lower their guard. They thought I had finally yielded and started flaunting their power in front of me. They mocked me every day, their words full of contempt and humiliation. "An orphan with no parents, really thinking she's a big deal." "If it weren't for our Arthur, you'd still be living in some rundown shack." "Now that your wings have grown a bit, you want to kick our Vance family to the curb?" I listened silently, etching all of this into my memory. But my eyes grew colder day by day. What they didn't know was that I had reported my ID card lost and gotten a replacement a long time ago. The new ID card was lying quietly in a hidden compartment of a canvas tote bag I used often. They also didn't know that for something as important as a property deed, how could I not have a backup plan? Copies, the purchase contract, all the relevant documents—I had backups of everything, hidden in a place they would never think of. I used the time when Arthur was at work and my mother-in-law was out grocery shopping to secretly meet with several real estate agents. I chose a middle-aged woman who looked the most professional and reliable. I laid out my situation entirely. After listening, the agent was filled with righteous indignation. "Girl, don't you worry." "I've seen this kind of thing plenty of times." "Not having the original deed is a bit of a hassle, but it's not completely impossible." "As long as you have the purchase contract and your ID, we can sign an exclusive listing agreement first." "I'll help you navigate the rest of the process slowly." Guided by the agent, I prepared all the necessary listing materials. Arthur and his mother were completely oblivious to this. They were still reveling in the thrill of controlling everything. Watching their smug faces, I felt no anger, only a bone-chilling coldness. That afternoon, while my mother-in-law was taking a nap and Arthur hadn't finished work yet, I slipped out of the house and signed the exclusive listing agreement with the agent. The moment I signed my name. I knew my counterattack had officially begun. The first step went even smoother than I had imagined. 5 The process of selling the condo was slower than I expected. With every passing day, the anxiety in my heart grew. I was afraid my cousin's illness couldn't wait. To speed things up, the agent asked me to find all the old documents related to the condo to see if anything could be used. I dug out a dusty old leather suitcase. This was given to me by my uncle when we moved. He said it was just some unimportant old stuff and told me to put it away. For sixteen years, I had never opened it. I blew the dust off the suitcase and opened the rusted latch. Inside was a thick stack of documents. The original purchase contract, tax invoices, and some miscellaneous receipts. I carefully flipped through them. Hoping to find some useful clues. Just as I picked up the yellowing purchase contract, a folded piece of letter paper fell out from between the pages. The envelope was yellow and brittle, with no name on it. With a bit of confusion, I opened it with trembling hands. The familiar handwriting instantly brought tears to my eyes. It was my uncle's handwriting. "Chloe, when you read this letter, Uncle might not be around anymore. There are some things I wanted to take to the grave, but after thinking about it, you deserve to know the truth." My heart seized violently. Fighting back tears, I continued reading. The contents of the letter struck me like a bolt of lightning, splitting my entire being. It turned out that sixteen years ago, when my parents died in that car accident, the party at fault paid $1.2 million in compensation. In that era, this was an astronomical sum. But this money was completely divided up by my so-called relatives, like a pack of hungry wolves. They said I was a girl, destined to marry into another family, a financial burden, and didn't deserve a penny of it. They said the money should be left for the male heirs of the family to carry on the bloodline. My uncle was just an ordinary worker back then, weak and outnumbered. He fought with them, argued with them, risked his life, and only managed to snatch back $300,000 from the wolves' mouths. But my uncle felt that this was money bought with my parents' lives. It was stained with blood and brought bad luck. He didn't want this money to cast a shadow over my childhood. So, he made a decision. He took out his own hard-earned savings, half a lifetime's worth, a full $200,000. He combined it with the $300,000, making $500,000. He paid entirely in cash to buy this studio apartment for me. He put the property in my name but told me he "gifted" it to me. He wanted to use this method to erase that ugly past. He wanted me to think that what I received was a pure love, devoid of any impurities. At the end of the letter, my uncle wrote: "Chloe, this is the last memento your parents left you, and it's all Uncle can do for you." "No matter what happens in the future, no matter what grievances you suffer, you must remember that this is your home." "As long as you have this home, you have a foundation." The letter slipped from my trembling hands. I could no longer control myself and burst into loud sobs. So that was it. This condo was never a gift. It was an inheritance bought with my parents' lives. It was a sanctuary my uncle built for me with half his life's blood, sweat, and tears. Hidden within it was the heavy love of my parents and the deepest protection of my uncle. And now, Arthur and Martha, this mother-and-son pair of executioners. What they wanted to snatch was not just a piece of real estate. They wanted to snatch my parents' legacy, my uncle's grace, my only root in this world. New grudges and old hatreds all surged into my heart in an instant. My tears slowly dried up. My gaze shifted from endless sorrow to a bone-deep coldness. Arthur, Martha. I'm not just going to win this battle. I'm going to win it spectacularly and make you pay the most agonizing price for your greed and shamelessness.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394746", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel