Chapter 407: The Setting Sun Cast Long Shadows

The setting sun cast long shadows as the elderly couple trudged wearily toward their courtyard gate.

Raucous laughter and the clinking of liquor bottles spilled from within. The old woman hesitated at the door, but her husband shoved it open without pause.

The room was thick with smoke. Derek Harlan lay hogtied in a corner, his face bruised and swollen. His parents were conspicuously absent—likely hiding elsewhere.

Several burly men were gathered around the low table, playing drinking games amid piles of chicken bones and peanut shells. The old man's eyes immediately locked onto two empty bottles of premium liquor—a gift from his second son last year.

"Grandpa! Grandma!" Derek screeched the moment he spotted them. "Did you get the money?"

Silence fell over the room.

The scar-faced leader staggered off the heated brick bed, reeking of alcohol as he loomed over the old man. "Where's the cash, old man?" His calloused hand thrust under the elder's nose.

Without a word, the grandfather yanked Derek up by the collar and dragged him toward the thug like a sack of potatoes.

"No money," the old man's voice cut like ice. "Take him. Do what you want. This is the Ferguson home, not his personal den. Leave now, or I'll report your illegal gambling and loan-sharking to the police. See who walks away then."

The grandmother stood speechless. During their walk home, their second son's words had echoed in the old man's mind.

They'd spoiled this boy rotten.

Their endless indulgence had let Derek grow into this lawless brute.

There was no money to give. This time, the grandfather was determined to teach his worthless grandson a lesson. Selling his wife to pay debts? He never should've bailed him out last time—that two thousand had ballooned to five.

This was their fault.

Not their second son's.

No one was born to be another's slave.

No debts were owed!

The old man had reached his limit.

His declaration stunned everyone. The grandmother froze. Derek gaped. Even the scarred leader blinked in surprise.

"Old man, this is your own flesh and blood!" Scarface jabbed a finger at Derek, suddenly sober.

"My flesh and blood? More like my damn curse!" The grandfather sneered. "Anyone who wants this troublemaker can have him. I'd like to live a few more years!"

Only then did Derek realize his grandfather meant every word.

"Grandpa! Have you lost your mind? I'm Derek! The Ferguson heir! If something happens to me, our family line ends!" he howled, never anticipating this move.

Scarface's grin turned sinister. "Think this is a game, old man?" He waved a hand. "Boys, drag him out. Break one leg today. If the money's not here tomorrow, we take an arm. Let's see how many parts we can harvest from this trash!"

The thugs moved as one, hauling Derek toward the door.