Chapter 399

"My grandparents will get the money from my uncle!" Frank Harris declared, his face swollen but his voice defiant. "I'm the only male heir of the Ferguson family. Uncle Jonathan still needs me to carry on the family line!"

A pang of regret hit him as he remembered how good Jonathan had been to him. No matter how much debt he racked up, hadn’t his uncle always bailed him out? If only he’d swallowed his pride earlier, he wouldn’t be lying beaten on the ground now.

"Don’t worry, boss! I’ll go to town right now and get the money from Uncle Jonathan!" Frank forced a sycophantic grin, fresh blood seeping from the split in his lip.

The loan shark took a drag from his cigarette, eyeing him skeptically. "Oh? Suddenly so eager?" He jerked his chin, and two burly men immediately seized Frank by the arms.

"Wait, boss!" Frank panicked. "I—I’m just thinking of your best interest—"

"Cut the crap!" The boss slammed a heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Old man, old woman, your grandson stays here as collateral. If the money’s not here by sundown..." He deliberately trailed off, hefting the iron rod in his hand.

The old woman’s legs buckled, and she nearly collapsed. "Don’t hurt him! We’ll go right now!"

Her husband steadied her, his clouded eyes filled with despair. Only now did they realize how comfortable life had been when their second son had always been there to clean up Frank’s messes. But now...

"If Jonathan refuses, we’ll die on his doorstep!" the old man growled. It was their last bargaining chip.

Frank’s parents tried to follow, but the thugs blocked them.

"Trying to run?" The boss kicked over a stool. "Go! Kill a chicken and cook for my men! If my boys go hungry, you’ll regret it!"

The house erupted into chaos. Frank was shoved into a corner, forced to watch as his parents were ordered to catch a chicken. His favorite speckled hen flapped wildly, fleeing across the yard.

Outside, the elderly couple hobbled toward town, leaning on each other for support. The setting sun stretched their shadows long and thin, like two gnarled vines.