Chapter 408

Frank Harris's nightmare was far from over.

The loan sharks wouldn't relent—not when the five thousand dollars remained unpaid.

The debt collectors returned the next day.

The elder Ferguson shut them out. Frank's parents, unable to scrape together the money, fled the house. His grandmother's tearful pleas fell on deaf ears.

Loan sharks weren't moved by tears.

They dragged Frank out and beat him senseless again.

This time, they broke his other leg.

Through the blinding pain, Frank finally understood—his grandfather had truly abandoned him.

Rage burned in his gut.

"Just wait till I recover..." he seethed silently. "Uncle Jonathan will pay first."

If only his uncle had helped, his grandfather wouldn't have turned so cold.

"And then Grandpa," he thought, teeth clenched.

All that talk about him being the Ferguson family's only grandson meant nothing when it mattered.

Frank blamed everyone but himself.

He hated them all.

But his revenge would never come.

A month later, the loan sharks realized the Fergusons truly had no money.

Even his grandmother had stopped crying.

Furious, the collectors struck back.

On a moonless night, the Ferguson home went up in flames.

The fire raged, swallowing the entire compound in minutes.

Frank, already paralyzed from his spinal injuries, couldn't escape.

The rest of the family survived—but their home didn't.

Only charred ruins remained.

The village took pity, lending them an abandoned hillside cave for shelter.

"With able hands, you can rebuild," the mayor said.

Then Jonathan Ferguson returned.

Frank's father watched his brother with desperate hope—and simmering resentment.

"If only you'd given the money..." he thought bitterly.

His son crippled, his home destroyed—all Jonathan's fault.

His gaze burned with accusation.

But the elder Ferguson surprised them all.

"Son," the old man sighed, "that house was built with your money. Maybe it's for the best it's gone."

Jonathan stood frozen.