Chapter 8 — A Debt of Filial Duty

The head of the legal department finished reviewing the document, lifted her gaze, and looked directly into my eyes.

"Does the company need to step in and handle this?"

I shook my head slightly, my voice calm. "If they do not cause a scene, there is no need. However, should they disrupt the peace, follow the standard corporate protocol precisely."

She nodded once, a gesture of absolute professionalism. "Understood."

At nine-twenty, the front desk receptionist called my extension. Her voice was trembling, pitched barely above a whisper.

"Director An, there are three people downstairs in the lobby. They claim to be your parents."

I glanced at the digital clock glowing in the lower right corner of my computer screen. They had arrived ten minutes earlier than the time my mother had announced in the family group chat. Naturally, she had spent the entire night tossing and turning with resentment. Without a word, I stood up and walked toward the elevators. When the doors slid open on the ground floor, I found a small crowd already forming a dense circle in the center of the spacious lobby. My mother was seated squarely on a plush sofa, a cheap plastic bag resting against her ankles. My father stood rigidly beside her. Meanwhile, Bang Bang was gripping a noisy toy car, driving it back and forth in harsh, scratching circles across the pristine glass coffee table. The receptionist looked entirely drained of color, her face stark white. The moment my mother spotted me, she slapped her own thigh and burst into a theatrical, deafening wail.

"Everyone, come look at this! Come see for yourself!" she shrieked, drawing the eyes of every employee in the vicinity. "This is the dutiful daughter I raised with my own sweat and blood! Six houses given entirely to her younger brother, and she refuses to leave even a single room for him! Her own flesh and blood parents show up at her workplace, and she cannot even be bothered to offer us a simple cup of water!"

She wept with seasoned expertise, pausing meticulously between phrases to gauge the reactions of the onlookers and ensure all eyes were locked onto me. I refused to close the distance. I stopped dead in my tracks, standing three paces away from her in the middle of the open lobby floor.

"This is a place of business," I said, my tone level and devoid of emotion. "If you have something to say, we will take it outside."

My mother pointed a shaking, accusatory finger straight at my face. "Are you afraid now? Do you finally realize that you have a conscience and know what shame feels like?"

My father's expression darkened into a scowl. "You are coming home with us right now. We are going to settle this once and for all."

"We already settled it last night," I replied coldly. "I will not bear the financial burden of raising, educating, marrying, or buying a home for Bang Bang. Nor will I accept any form of harassment, extortion, or intimidation."

Her shrieks escalated to a pitch-shattering volume. "Did everyone hear how she talks to her own flesh and blood? Her seven-year-old brother, and she claims she wants nothing to do with him!"

A murmur of whispers rippled through the gathered colleagues. Some stared at me with tentative judgment, while others quietly pulled out their smartphones to record the spectacle. I made no move to stop them. Instead, I pulled the lawyer's letter from my folder and handed it directly to the head of corporate security, who had just rushed over.

"Please act as a witness to this delivery."

The security chief took the document. The moment my mother saw the official legal stationery, her maternal performance faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by sudden vigilance. "She is bringing out more of those fake papers to scare people!"

"This is not meant to frighten anyone," I stated clearly, letting my voice carry across the room. "This is a formal notice. If my parents continue to spread falsehoods, disrupt company operations, or hurl abuse at employees within this building, I will immediately call the police and initiate legal proceedings."

The muscles in my father's face tightened fiercely. "You would actually sue your own parents?"

"I am suing individuals for breaking the law," I answered without hesitation.

Enraged, my mother lunged forward from the sofa, attempting to snatch the documents straight from my hands. I stepped gracefully to the side. Her desperate grab met only empty air. Her high heel twisted awkwardly beneath her weight, and she tumbled backward, landing hard on the polished marble floor. A chorus of gasps echoed through the lobby. Without missing a beat, she used the fall to her advantage, pounding her fists against the ground and weeping with renewed vigor.

"Murder! She struck her own mother! My own daughter has raised her hand against me!" she screamed hysterically. "Everyone, take out your cameras and record this! Look at her, she is a high-ranking director now with money and power, and she actually beats the woman who gave birth to her!"

My heart sank slightly. She had not lost her temper on a whim; this entire scene had been meticulously rehearsed. Suddenly, Bang Bang began to scream and stomp his feet in sync.

"The bad woman hit grandma!"

My father did not even bother to reach down to help his wife up. Instead, he darted his eyes toward the smartphones held by the surrounding spectators, a cold, calculating cruelty flashing in his gaze. Understanding washed over me instantly. They had not come here today seeking a reasonable resolution or a family discussion. They had come to perform a carefully staged tragedy. I slowly raised my eyes to look at the high-ceilinged lobby overhead.

"There are security cameras mounted everywhere in this room."

My mother's loud crying faltered for half a beat.

"Whether I made physical contact with you just now, the cameras have recorded every single second," I continued, looking directly down at her. "If you insist on lying and claiming I hit you, let us call the police right now. When the officers arrive, we can review the surveillance footage together."

The atmosphere in the crowd shifted immediately. Several people lowered their phones. Only then did my father sluggishly bend down to pull my mother to her feet. She refused to budge, pointing a trembling finger at me.

"For the sake of a few houses, you are truly willing to send your own mother to prison?"

"If you continue to commit slander and extortion," I replied steadily, "I most certainly will."

She was instantly choked into silence, unable to find another retort. At that exact moment, the administrative manager and the head of the legal department walked out of the elevators and strode quickly across the lobby. The legal manager stepped firmly to my side, her expression chillingly professional.

"Excuse me, everyone, but this is a private corporate workspace. Please leave the premises immediately, or we will be forced to contact law enforcement to remove you for trespassing and disturbing the peace."

My father glared at her. "This is a private family matter between us."

The legal manager's voice remained unwavering and sharp. "When a family dispute causes a disturbance within a place of business, it ceases to be a private matter."

My mother was finally hoisted up by my father, her face burning a deep, humiliated red. She likely never imagined that I would refuse to cry, refuse to offer explanations, and refuse to drag her into a quiet corner to beg her to stop making a scene. I had completely dismantled the stage upon which she was accustomed to performing. My father stared daggers at me, his teeth clenched.

"An Hua, you are truly heartless."

"Oh, I have even better things in store," I replied coldly.

I pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and opened the extended family group chat. Right in front of their eyes, I uploaded the audio recording from the previous night, a digital copy of the lawyer's letter, the official document proving the legal origin of my assets, and the time-stamped notice regarding the lobby surveillance footage. Beneath the files, I typed a single, definitive sentence:

"Starting from today, anyone who assists in harassing me or my household will find their actions recorded as evidence for future legal action."

The moment the message was successfully sent, the group chat fell into an absolute, graveyard silence. The color drained entirely from my mother's face. No doubt, the relatives who had joined her in hurling insults at me the night before were now frantically rethinking their allegiance. My father grabbed my mother by the arm, attempting to drag her toward the exit. However, Bang Bang refused to move. He stared fixedly at a decorative glass display case in the corner of the lobby and suddenly pointed a sticky finger at a golden trophy sitting inside.

"I want that! Get me that!"

No one paid him any mind. Enraged, the boy let out a shrill scream and violently kicked a massive ceramic flower pot resting near the front desk. The heavy pot tipped over, crashing hard against the tile floor and shattering into countless sharp shards. The receptionist recoiled in sheer terror. Out of pure instinct, my father started to turn away, pretending not to notice the damage.

I raised my voice and called out to his retreating back.

"Pay for the damages before you leave."

My father slowly stopped and turned his head.