Chapter 4

My mother's face hardened. "Fine, we'll accept this debt. But we don't have that much right now. We'll pay you back when the property buyout payout comes through."

"But you also have to sign an agreement acknowledging that you'll be responsible for paying this mortgage."

I nodded. "That works. Write me an IOU. And Kevin, send me a copy of the video you just recorded."

Kevin startled. "Why do you need the video?"

"If I'm the one paying the mortgage, I need some kind of proof."

He didn't think twice and sent the video to my phone.

They quickly wrote up the IOU, signed it, and pressed their fingerprints on it.

I wrote up the agreement: As of today, the mortgage on Unit 6, Floor 21, Building 3, Goldwater Court has nothing to do with Kevin, and will be repaid by me.

When they saw that I'd signed, every one of them broke into a satisfied smile.

My mom acted like a completely different person. "See, wouldn't it have been better to do this sooner? We're all family."

I kept my face grim and said nothing, then turned and left.

Kevin's voice came from behind me. "Mom, Dad, a toast to you both. You've worked so hard! This family owes everything to you."

I drove out onto the road out of Dickerson Village and pulled over to the side.

I sat there a good while before I pulled up my messages.

Just as I was about to send it to Mr. James, I noticed the message Bruno had sent earlier.

It was a news link: a public notice about the optimization and adjustment of the environmental protection zone in the Dickerson Village district.

My heart jumped. I tapped it open and glanced at it. The content boiled down to one sentence: Dickerson Village lay in an ecological zone, and building the light rail would damage the environment, so a rerouting was recommended.

So it turned out even the heavens weren't willing to let them make this grand dream come true.

I left the group chat called "Home."

From then on, I truly had no family—but I was finally free.

Scrolling up, I saw a message from my mother: "Cassandra, drive safe, and don't worry too much about the mortgage."

I chose to ignore it and opened Mr. James's chat window.

He was our law firm's long-standing partner, and had reviewed countless advertising contracts and infringement cases for me.

I drafted a message, worded calmly, as if I were handling a routine client case:

"Mr. James, sorry to bother you over the holiday. I have a personal matter I'd like to consult on. I own a property that was bought under someone else's name.

I signed the original contract, and I paid the down payment and most of the mortgage. The transfer records are all complete.

The property deed is in a family member's name, and now I'd like to confirm the ownership. If it's convenient, we can go over it in detail after the holiday. No rush."

That night, I lay awake for a long time.

In my dreams, all I saw were memories of living under other people's roofs.

Starting at six, when my parents left to work away from home, I lived first with my grandmother, then my uncle, then my aunt.

I was like dead weight, resented by everyone.

When I woke the next day, Mr. James had replied: "Ms. Dickerson, there's a lot we can work with here. Name a time and let's meet to talk it through."

That afternoon, my mother called again. "Cassandra, your brother's got his eye on a Mercedes. Over three hundred grand."

"We don't have that kind of money on hand right now. Help us cover it, and once the property buyout payout comes through, we'll pay it all back together."

Hearing that, I was furious. They were still daydreaming.

"Do you think I run a bank? If Kevin wanted the moon out of the sky, would you go pluck it down for him too?"

My mother instantly flew into a rage. "Cassandra! What kind of attitude is that? Our family's getting three million from the buyout—you think we can't spare three hundred grand?"

I let out two cold laughs. "You'd better make sure that payout is actually coming."

A shriek came from the other end of the line. "What are you talking about?"