The Adopted Son Who Bled Us Dry

1: 1

My daughter-in-law lived by one creed: where the money is, that's where the love is.

After my grandson was born, she set down a rule:

Every month there would be a livestream. Between us and her parents, whoever ranked number one on the gifting leaderboard that month, that was the house the three of them would go live in.

For five years, just to earn the right to see the child, my husband and I poured millions into that leaderboard every single month.

But no matter how much we spent, we never got past number two.

The latest livestream had just ended when my daughter-in-law, Caroline Morton, dropped a screenshot of the rankings into the big family group chat:

"Some people talk a good game, always going on about how they'll give the child everything, but the moment it actually costs them something, their true colors come out."

"My parents only make three thousand a month, but to be with their grandson, they took out a loan without a second thought."

"Still, I've always been a soft-hearted person, so I'll give you two one last chance."

"If you still can't bear to spend on your own grandson, then from now on, Riley takes my surname."

"As for the two of you, we won't raise you in life and we won't bury you in death. Every tie between us is cut, completely!"

...

The family group chat went dead silent.

But Caroline didn't care in the slightest about everyone's silence. She kept sending voice messages:

"Like I always say, where the money is, that's where the love is."

"My parents are just an ordinary working family. They make maybe three thousand a month, but for their grandson they'll take out loans of millions to hit that leaderboard."

"And the child's own grandparents, sitting on a fortune, won't spend a dime. In five years they haven't seen the child even once!"

My husband, Owen Gilbert, was breathing hard, his chest heaving.

I saw he was about to fire back, and I reached out at once and stopped him.

I said nothing.

Five years of grievance, five years of swallowed anger, all of it surged up in that moment.

Just then, another new voice message popped up in the chat.

It was our son, Sebastian Gilbert.

My heart lifted, and I opened it right away.

After all, we were his parents. We'd given him a comfortable life all along, never once shortchanged him.

But all I heard was Sebastian clicking his tongue, impatient:

"Dad, Mom, the two of you are just heartless! What kind of grandparents act like this? Aren't you afraid people will laugh if word gets out?"

"You two are old fools. Can money follow you into your coffin? Since you've chosen to act like this, don't blame us for turning on you."

"We're not going to keep kissing up to people who can't be bothered with us. We're done forcing it."

His voice was thick with disgust and contempt.

The hand holding my phone froze, and my whole mind went blank.

I stared at the screen in disbelief, my head empty, almost thinking I'd misheard.

Owen couldn't hold his fury back any longer. He raised his arm and smashed his phone hard against the wall.

The screen shattered instantly.

The room fell quiet, nothing left but the two of us breathing hard.

I couldn't believe these were the words of the son I'd cherished for over twenty years.

Sebastian had been sickly and frail from the time he was small, his body always weak, forever running fevers, coughing, wheezing, one thing after another that never seemed to end.

From the time he was little, Owen and I built our whole world around him.

Back then the company was just getting off the ground, right at the critical stretch when it needed us pushing for numbers and scaling up.

But every single time we'd lined up an important client, ready to head out and close a deal, Sebastian would suddenly fall ill.

How many times did we drop deals worth tens of millions, hundreds of millions, just like that.

We would rather put the company's growth on hold, rather let every opportunity slip away, than leave our sick son home alone.

The relatives in the group chat saw how tense things had gotten and jumped in to smooth it over.

But Sebastian wanted none of it. He sent another voice message straightaway, self-righteous:

"Everyone can stop trying to talk us down. People know the truth in their hearts."

"Those who get it will get it. If they want to keep pretending, there's nothing we can do."

"At the end of it, what kind of real grandparents go a full five years without seeing their grandchild even once? It comes down to this: they don't care! They just don't care!"

I couldn't hold it in any longer. Pressing down the bitterness and anger in my chest, I put it back to him in the chat:

"Is it that we didn't want to see him? Five years, and every visitation slot went to your in-laws. We spent millions and still couldn't win the chance. How were we supposed to see him?"

The moment my message went out, Sebastian's voice came right back over it:

"And whose fault is that? At the end of the day it's still that you two didn't try hard enough!"

"If you really wanted to see the child, how could you not? My in-laws were willing to take out loans and give everything they had for their grandson. And you? A measly few million, like you're brushing off a beggar?"

Every word, every line, aimed straight at the heart.

My chest ached.

Before I could even reply, Sebastian's last message popped up in the chat:

"To make up for your failure as grandparents, on the next livestream, no matter how much you two give, when the system settles the totals, five million will be deducted straight off and credited to my in-laws!"

2: 2

Owen Gilbert was shaking with rage.

I wasn't doing much better.

Twenty-some years of pouring our hearts into raising a son, and he turns around and stands with an outsider to squeeze and blame the two of us. Nobody could bear that.

Five years ago, the first time Caroline Morton set foot in our home, she made sure to put us in our place.

Owen and I had taken the meeting seriously. We'd started preparing three days ahead.

We'd even hired a Michelin chef to come cook for us.

And we'd had the welcome gift ready long before, a fat envelope with a hundred and eight thousand dollars in it.

But Caroline stayed cold the whole time, not a trace of courtesy or nerves, only contempt in her eyes.

Seeing that we were a little flustered, she took over the room as if she were the host.

She pulled a paper medical report out of her bag and dropped it on the coffee table.

Then she leaned back, folded her arms, and jerked her chin at Owen and me.

It was Sebastian's medical report.

Owen and I picked it up, puzzled, and went completely still.

The report said it plainly: Sebastian had severe sperm deficiency, with a natural conception rate of less than one percent.

The two of us froze where we sat, minds blank.

All these years we'd only known he was frail, sick more often than not. We had never known about a hidden condition like this.

Sebastian stood off to the side, his whole face flushed red.

Just as the silence stretched thin, Caroline lifted a hand and stroked her own belly, drawling out her words.

"But I'm pregnant."

"The doctor said it himself. That one percent chance, it happened to me."

As much as her lofty attitude sickened me, the moment I heard the word pregnant, all my displeasure got pressed down.

Whatever else was true, this was the first grandchild of the Gilbert family.

I softened at once and spoke up to reassure her. "Caroline, a baby is wonderful news. We'll hold the wedding as soon as possible. I'll buy the two of you a big three-bedroom in the heart of the city right away. The renovation, the furniture, the bride gift, the wedding, every expense, we'll cover all of it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just rest and take care of the baby."

I'd thought that kind of sincerity would satisfy her. Instead Caroline's face filled with astonishment, as if she'd heard something absurd.

"You're supposed to be responsible for that anyway. You owe it to Sebastian!"

Owen and I sat there stunned.

Sebastian shot to his feet, cheeks burning red, years of pent-up resentment spilling into his voice as he shouted straight at us.

"My body was perfectly fine to begin with. I never had any sperm problem! It's because when I was little you two kept dragging me around to see doctors and have surgeries, all those drugs wrecked my body, and that's what left me barely able to have children!"

"You two are the ones to blame!"

I opened my mouth to explain on reflex.

But Sebastian gave me no chance, cutting me off at once, loud.

"Caroline's been studying Chinese medicine for over a year. She looked into it specially. It was your overtreatment back then that gave me this condition! If it weren't for you, I never would have gotten sick like this!"

Owen and I froze completely, staring blankly at the son in front of us, unable to get a single word out.

Seeing this, Caroline curled the corner of her mouth into a cold smile, laid her hand on her belly again, and spoke with arrogant force.

"This baby in my belly is the only heir the Gilbert family has now."

"Those terms you just offered? They don't even come close to making up for the harm you two did!"

Owen's face went livid, his fist clenching, on the verge of losing it.

I held him back, forced my own anger down, and asked her, "Then what exactly do you want?"

Caroline seemed to have it all ready. She didn't hesitate for a second.

"First, every share in every company under you two goes to my brother Wallace Morton, transferred for free."

"Second, you buy a standalone full-floor unit downtown, paid in full, registered in my parents' names. From now on their food, clothing, housing, medical care, retirement, travel, and leisure, all of it is on you two."

"My parents have to be treated exactly the same as you."

"Third, when my brother gets married, buys a house, buys a car, pays a bride gift, raises his kids, every last cost falls to the Gilbert family."

"My brother can't handle hardship. He won't be working for a living, so when the company gets transferred over, remember to hire a professional manager to run it for him."

Once she'd said all that, a secretive little smile crept across Caroline's face.

"I already read the tarot cards. This baby is one hundred percent a boy, and a born genius at that."

"Having a golden grandson like this is the greatest blessing of your entire lives."

Listening to her, I found it utterly ridiculous.

I refused right then and there. "These terms are impossible. We will never agree to them."

Caroline's face changed in an instant, the earlier ease and arrogance flipping into furious panic.

"I'm carrying the only heir the Gilbert family has! The only grandson you'll ever get! You'd better think hard, and don't be too stupid to know a good thing!"

The moment she finished, she didn't spare us another glance. She grabbed her bag, turned, and slammed the door behind her as she left.

The living room fell dead quiet.

Owen couldn't hold the fury down. He rounded on Sebastian, roaring. "Look at who you picked!"

But Sebastian showed not the slightest hint of reflection. He flopped down on the sofa and threw a tantrum, yelling.

"I don't care! You ruined my body! You ruined my life! And now you want to force me to break up, won't let me marry Caroline. Then what's the point of me even living? If you won't agree, I'll just go die!"

My heart was torn between anger and pain.

In the end he was the son we'd raised for over twenty years. We couldn't bring ourselves to truly push him.

So in the end I gave in. I didn't accept Caroline's outrageous terms, but I did agree to the marriage.

Owen looked down at his cracked phone screen and suddenly turned to me. "Honey, the next livestream, are we still going to take part?"

I sat there on the sofa, everything churning inside me.

The older a person gets, the less they crave great wealth or status. The only thing left to long for is a family whole and together, grandchildren gathered close.

I stayed silent for a long while, then let out a few soft words. "Let's do it."

3: 3

The day before the livestream, we had the finance team set aside all the liquid cash we could, and we sat in that livestream room from the first second to the last, never letting up for a moment.

That one stream, we burned through more than fifty million dollars.

And when it ended, my heart dropped straight to the bottom.

We were still ranked second.

Caroline's parents were still sitting comfortably at number one.

In the family group chat, Caroline started in with that snide tone of hers:

"My mom and dad mortgaged their house again for their grandson, and took out more than ten payday loans on top of it!"

"Grandparents who own a publicly listed company, and they still can't beat a grandpa and grandma making three thousand a month. Fine starting tomorrow, Riley Abbott can just take my family's name instead!"

The chat stayed dead silent. Not one relative dared say a word to smooth it over.

Sebastian's voice message came right behind hers, cold as ice:

"Dad, Mom, if there was never any room in your hearts for me, or for Riley, then there's no point being family anymore."

"From today, we cut ties completely. We go our separate ways, and we stay out of each other's lives!"

A few short lines, and it was like a knife driven into my chest.

I stared at the phone screen, the room spinning around me.

Owen looked at those messages and couldn't hold his fury down another second. He shouted straight into the phone:

"Sebastian! Have you lost every shred of decency?"

"What did your mother and I ever do to you? We valued you above our own lives, your whole life. How dare you say something like that? Where's your conscience?"

Sebastian answered fast, his voice full of impatience and scorn:

"Drop the act. If you two really loved me, would you fail to grab number one every single time? Who's this performance even for?"

I couldn't hold on any longer. I slumped limp onto the sofa.

Owen panicked and called for an ambulance, rushing me to City Central Hospital.

I truly thought this time our son was really going to cut us off for good.

But that same night, Sebastian and Caroline actually came, and they brought Riley with them.

I looked at the small figure in the doorway, and most of the hardness in my heart melted away.

He was still our own child, after all. However cruel his words, we were still in his heart somewhere.

Owen froze too. His face, tight with anger all day, softened just a little.

But before either of us could speak, Caroline pulled a huge face mask out of her bag and clapped it straight over Riley's face.

The boy's whole face was covered, sealed tight.

The anger I'd just swallowed shot right back up. I pushed myself up to look at her.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

Caroline pursed her lips.

"Can't be helped, Mom. Even though I'm a kind person, I felt sorry for you, getting so worked up you landed in the hospital, so I made a point of bringing Riley to see you."

"But rules are rules. You didn't get number one this time, so you don't qualify to see the child's face."

"If I made an exception, how could I face my own parents and everything they've given?"

The moment those words were out, the room went cold.

Owen's face darkened completely.

We had lived most of our lives, and we had never been humiliated like this.

Sebastian let out a snort of a laugh, looked at me lying weak in the bed, scorn flickering in his eyes:

"Babe, I told you my mom was faking it. Look at that voice on her. Does that sound like a woman collapsed from rage?"

"Another minute later and she'd probably be marching home on her own two feet."

Caroline heard that and burst out laughing.

Something in me went cold all the way through. I didn't want to say another word to them.

I looked at them, my voice hoarse and drained.

"Get out!"

Instead of leaving, Caroline reached over and tore two holes in the mask on the boy's face, just enough to bare a pair of eyes, everything else still covered.

She crouched down, took Riley by the shoulders, and turned him toward Owen and me.

Caroline's mouth curved up.

"Take a good look, baby. These two are your grandpa and grandma. But they don't love you one bit. They won't spend money on you, they wouldn't come see you for five whole years. They're the worst grandparents in the world!"

A five-year-old knows nothing, can't understand the rights and wrongs between grown-ups. He only followed Caroline's lead, his little mouth crumpling on the spot:

"I hate Grandpa and Grandma! I don't want them! I hate them the most!"

That small, tearful voice, that plain, open loathing, drove deep into my heart until I couldn't breathe.

This was the grandson I had waited five years for.

The first time I ever heard his voice, and it was full of loathing and hate.

Caroline straightened up, smug all over her face.

"You see that, Mom, Dad? This is what you get for refusing to give from the heart."

"Your son isn't on your side, and your grandson hates you."

"I really can't understand you two. What good is all that money in your hands? You've got one foot in the grave already."

Owen couldn't take it anymore. He roared at them:

"Get out! Get out of my sight right now! And never come back!"

4: 4

Back home.

The moment I opened the door, the family portrait in the center of the living room TV cabinet caught my eye.

I stared at that photo, and my eyes reddened before I could stop them.

Even with my heart gone cold, twenty-some years of mother and son couldn't be cut clean in a single breath.

Owen stood beside me, following my gaze to the photo, and let out a long sigh.

The year Sebastian turned three, he came down with severe pneumonia and went straight into the ICU.

For three full days and nights, Owen and I never closed our eyes, never dared step away.

We were worn down to nothing, and finally fell asleep slumped against the edge of the bed.

Half-dreaming, we felt a small hand reach out and gently take hold of Owen's hand and mine.

The child had only just been pulled back from the edge, his whole body drained, his movements soft and weak.

First he took my hand and bent his head to brush his lips against the back of it.

Then he turned, took Owen's hand, and kissed it the same gentle way.

Clumsy and obedient, with the pure, dependent trust only a small child has.

My nose stung at once, tears almost spilling over, but I forced them back and kept my eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep.

Owen did the same, lying still, quietly taking in the child's love.

Owen reached over and drew my shoulder in, his voice hoarse and tired:

"I really can't understand it. How did he turn into this?"

"Love and everything money could buy, we never shorted him one bit. Where did we go wrong?"

I looked at Sebastian in the photo, everything tangled up inside me.

I stayed silent a long time, and in the end my heart softened again.

I said:

"How about we sit down and talk with him properly, one more time?"

Owen was quiet for a few seconds, then nodded.

Early the next morning, we brought gifts and went to his door ourselves.

Just as we reached it, we heard voices coming from inside?

Caroline was the first to speak.

"Honey, did we push too hard this time? What if your parents really dig in and cut you off? Then we lose more than we gain."

But Sebastian sounded completely sure of himself:

"No way! Absolutely no way! I'm the only son they'll ever have, they've treated me like the apple of their eye since I was little."

"They're only getting older, and the one thing they cling to is having someone to care for them in old age. Just wait. In a few days they'll come crawling back on their own, begging me to forgive them."

"Hmph! Always going on about how they love me, and yet they're the reason I can barely have kids. They know I'll only ever have one child in my life, and they still won't hand the company over to me! Such hypocrites!"

Caroline's mother laughed and picked it up:

"Exactly, people that fake deserve to be taught a lesson!"

"Oh, that's my Caroline for you, so clever. Just spent a little money faking a livestream page and cleaned up, and got to see whether those two really meant it, too."

Caroline's father sounded thoroughly pleased:

"Tomorrow we'll get your brother a new car. That last one's already a year old."

"We're not the kind of family that hoards it away. When we've got money, we spend it on our son, no holding back!"

But Caroline's brother sounded a little hesitant:

"Sebastian, I've been reading these novels lately, and in a lot of them, when only-child parents get squeezed too hard, they just have a second kid and squeeze right back."

"Your parents aren't all that old. You're not worried they'll have another one?"

The moment he finished, Sebastian's loud, careless laugh rang out from inside:

"Don't you worry. I planned for that a long time ago."

"For years now I've quietly been slipping something into the health supplements they take every day. Their bodies gave out long ago. There's no way they could ever conceive again."

"In this life, I'm the only son they'll ever get!"

I froze on the spot in the doorway.

Before I could even come back to myself, Sebastian's voice turned suddenly cold, thick with hatred:

"They owed it to me in the first place!"

"If they hadn't put me through surgery after surgery as a kid, overdosed me on all that medicine, my sperm count would've been fine! I wouldn't be like this!"

"And now they still won't even make it up to me!"

Caroline soothed him at once, her voice soft:

"Don't be afraid, honey, you've got me right here~"

Sebastian was moved, and the two of them fell into kissing right then and there.

The little wet sounds were unbearably grating.

Caroline's whole family clapped and cheered them on, laughing again and again.

Owen and I stood outside the door, hands and feet gone ice-cold.

Everything in me died.

I turned my head toward Owen, his face livid beside me, and my voice came out strangely calm:

"Honey, make that call."

Owen's head snapped toward me:

"You're sure? Once it goes out, there's no turning back."

I looked off into the distance and gave a small nod:

"I'm sure."