My Arrogant Father-in-law Kicked My “poor” Dad Out Of The House. He Didn’t Realize My Dad Was A Retired Dea Agent On A Mission. Did He Deserve The Fbi Raid?

Michael attempted a smile. Tommy pushed his food around his plate. After dinner, Frank insisted everyone come to the living room.

He had presents, he announced. Early Christmas gifts. A pair of expensive earrings for Jessica, a golf club membership for Michael, and for Tommy, a savings bond.

“It’s for college,” Frank explained. “But only if he goes to a real school, not some community college.”

Tommy was seven; he didn’t understand what any of that meant. He just nodded. “Thank you.”

Frank turned to me. “Sorry, Richard, I didn’t get you anything. Wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“That’s fine.”

“Although I suppose I should thank you. You raised Michael, and despite everything, he turned out okay. Found himself a good woman from a good family. Hopefully, Tommy inherits more from Jessica’s side.”

That’s when Michael finally spoke up. “Dad, maybe we should—”

“Maybe you should what?” Frank’s voice had an edge now. The wine was really hitting him.

“I’m complimenting your father, Michael. I’m saying he did an adequate job, given his limitations.”

“I think Richard’s done more than adequate,” Michael said quietly.

Frank laughed. “Oh, please! Look at where you grew up. Look at where Tommy’s growing up now. This house, this neighborhood, this life. You didn’t get this from your father’s factory salary. You got it because my daughter saw potential in you, and I helped finance your career.”

That wasn’t true. Michael had paid for his own education with loans and scholarships, but I could see my son shrinking in his chair, not contradicting his father-in-law. “I didn’t realize you financed Michael’s career,” I said.

“Well, not directly. But who do you think introduced him to the partners at his firm? Who do you think gave him the credibility to get that position? In this world, Richard, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. And you didn’t know anybody.”

Flowers and Consequences

Tommy had wandered over to the window. He was looking out at the backyard where his basketball hoop stood. “Can I go play?” he asked.

“It’s almost dark,” Jessica said.

“Just for a few minutes,” Tommy pleaded.

“Let the boy play,” Frank said. “He needs to burn off that energy. Get some real exercise instead of playing with those video games all day.”

Tommy went outside. Through the window, I watched him grab his basketball and start shooting. He missed the first few shots, and the ball bounced into the flower bed.

Frank was still talking, something about a real estate deal. Then he stopped mid-sentence and stood up. “Is he trampling Jessica’s flowers?”

I looked out the window. Tommy had retrieved the ball from the flower bed. A few petals had fallen off the flowers, but nothing was damaged.

“Those are imported tulips,” Frank said, heading for the back door. “Cost me $200 to have them planted last spring.”

“Frank, it’s fine,” Jessica started, but he was already outside.

I stood up. Something in my gut told me to move. By the time I reached the back door, Frank was in the yard at Tommy.

My grandson was holding the basketball, his face pale. “Teach you to respect property. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Your father lets you run wild, and this is what happens.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, his voice shaking. “I didn’t mean—”

“Sorry doesn’t fix the flowers.” Frank grabbed the basketball from Tommy’s hands and threw it across the yard. It bounced off the fence with a bang.

“Maybe if someone actually disciplined you instead of coddling you, you’d learn.”

“Frank.” I was walking across the yard now. “That’s enough.”

He turned on me. “Oh, now the factory worker has opinions on child rearing? You raised a pushover, Richard. I’m trying to make sure my grandson doesn’t end up the same way.”

Tommy was crying now. Michael and Jessica had come outside, but they were frozen on the patio. I said quietly. “Apologize to my grandson.”

Frank laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You threw his ball. You made him cry. Apologize.”

“I don’t think so. This is my daughter’s house, and I’ll discipline my grandson however I see fit.”

“This is my son’s house. That’s my grandson, and you’re going to apologize.”

Frank stepped closer to me. He had two inches on me and probably thirty pounds. “Or what, old man? You going to make me?”

I didn’t move. I just looked at him. Thirty years of experience told me exactly what kind of man I was dealing with.

He was the kind who was used to bullying people who couldn’t fight back, the kind who’d never faced real consequences. “Go inside, Tommy,” I said.

Tommy ran past us toward the house. Jessica caught him and hugged him. Michael was standing there looking between me and Frank.

“You need to leave,” Frank said. “Before I make you leave.”

“Frank, please,” Jessica said from the patio. “Let’s just calm down.”

“No.” Frank’s face was red, veins popping in his neck. “I’ve been patient with this situation, but I’m done. Your father—” He pointed at Michael. “—doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect what I’ve built or what I’ve provided for this family, and I won’t have him undermining my authority with my grandson.”

“Your grandson?” I said.

“Tommy is Michael’s son.”

“And Michael is married to my daughter, which makes Tommy my responsibility. Someone has to teach him to be a man since his father won’t.”

Michael flinched like he’d been slapped. That’s when something inside me shifted. I’d accepted Frank’s disrespect toward me.

I’d stayed quiet when he belittled my career, my life, my choices. But watching him tear down my son, watching Michael shrink and accept it, watching Tommy cry… “I think you should leave,” I said.

Frank laughed. “I’m staying in this house. You’re the guest. You leave.”

“This is Michael’s house. He can decide who stays.”

We both looked at Michael. My son opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Maybe we should all just take a breath.”

“Pathetic,” Frank muttered. Then he turned back to me.

“You know what your problem is, Richard? You raised your son to be weak. No backbone, no ambition. He would have been nothing without Jessica, and Jessica would have been nothing without me. You contributed exactly zero to your grandson’s future, and yet you stand here acting like you have some kind of authority.”