My voice came out iron-hard: "If you force me to leave empty-handed, I'll die right here."
I'd never been one to make scenes or throw tantrums.
If they hadn't pushed me this far, I would have kept my dignity intact.
But leaving with nothing? That was the one thing I couldn't accept. My parents were in poor health, dependent on expensive medications.
Ray's eyes went bloodshot at my words.
"It's not leaving with nothing. I'm giving you a hundred thousand."
"That's all you're getting. If we're talking about building this from scratch, I'm the one who did the real work."
I stared at him, stunned.
He was comparing labor with me?
We were in the renovation business.
When we first started the company, we'd gone to clients' homes ourselves—measuring rooms, plastering walls, hauling heavy materials.
Sure, he was stronger. He'd done more of the physical work.
But I'd handled everything else. Running to the market at dawn, cooking every meal, keeping us fed and functioning.
And now, today, it had become his hard work that mattered—implying I'd contributed nothing.
My voice tore out of me: "Ray, you're disgusting."
Ray waved his hand, already done with me. "Mom, Dad—throw her out. Lock the door behind her."