"This was exactly what Old Mr. Finch worried about most."
"He told me his second son had a crooked heart, and the grandson had been spoiled rotten. He was afraid they'd squander the family assets—but more than that, he was afraid they'd bully you and your father, knowing you're both too decent to fight back."
"That's why he set this up."
"Since your mind is made up, sign here."
I picked up the pen and pressed my name firmly at the bottom of the document.
The process moved quickly. The Notary Office issued the updated certification almost immediately, confirming that the old family house and all derivative rights—including redevelopment benefits—belonged to me alone.
With this document in hand, the moment the Redevelopment Office set up operations, I could sign and claim the properties directly.
As I walked out of the law firm, my phone buzzed again.
A WeChat message. From him.
Perhaps fearing I'd actually follow through with the lawsuit, his tone had softened slightly—but it still dripped with that nauseating sense of entitlement.
[Sis, I had too much to drink last night. Said some things I shouldn't have. Don't take it to heart.]
[But you know I really don't have the money right now.]