My Parents Gave My Sister A Luxury Villa And Gifted Me An Abandoned Parking Lot. Now I Own Their Foreclosed Home. Am I The Jerk For Making Them Pay Rent?
Sabotage
My revenge wasn’t just saying no. It was making sure they watched me win. I thought I was done with them. I made myself crystal clear: no money, no help, no second chances. But people like my parents and Emily, they don’t take no well. And sure enough, a few days later, they came back swinging.
It started small. Bad reviews online. I was checking my phone when I saw the first one.
“One star. This place is overrated, food is overpriced, and the owner is incredibly rude. Avoid.”
Then another.
“One star. My experience was terrible. The staff is unprofessional and the entire place smells like garbage.”
And another.
“One star. Do not support this business. The owner is a selfish, ungrateful person who doesn’t care about family.”
I chuckled. Nice try, Mom. She always had this habit of playing the victim. First, she’d throw you under the bus, then act like the injured party. I could already picture her sitting in the kitchen, angrily typing out fake reviews between sips of her overpriced wine.
But they didn’t stop there. A few days later, a city inspector showed up.
“Anonymous complaint,” he said, looking almost embarrassed. “Someone reported that your permits might not be up to code.”
I nodded.
“Let me guess. A middle-aged woman and her spoiled daughter?”
The guy scratched his head.
“Uh, I can’t say who filed it, but something tells me you already know.”
I knew exactly who it was. And then another complaint came in. This time about my seating area allegedly violating space requirements. Then one about noise levels. Then another about food safety. They were trying to bury me in legal red tape, drown me in fines. They wanted to kill my business before it could grow any bigger.
But here’s the thing: I’m not that easy to break. Instead of panicking, I fought back. I hired a lawyer. Every permit, every license, every single regulation was checked, rechecked, and locked down so tight that even the city inspector admitted there was nothing wrong.
I doubled my marketing. If they wanted to ruin my reputation, I drowned them out with positivity. I started running special events, giveaways, live performances. I reached out to local influencers, inviting them to VIP tasting nights.
I expanded. If they thought I was a problem before, they had no idea what was coming. I rented extra space next door to open an outdoor beer garden. I partnered with local artists to set up weekend craft markets. I turned their little sabotage attempt into free publicity, and business boomed.
The Public Meltdown
Then Emily made the biggest mistake of her life. It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The air was buzzing with music, laughter, and the smell of fresh tacos. Lines stretched out the lot. The entire place was packed.
That’s when I heard it. A shouting voice near the entrance.
“This place is a joke!”
I turned. Emily. And she was drunk. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged, and her expensive designer dress was wrinkled like she had been crying in her car before walking in. Mom was right behind her, grabbing her arm.
“Emily, stop this! This isn’t…”
Emily ripped away from her.
“I can’t believe you think you’re better than us!” she screamed. “Look at you! You’re a mechanic playing businessman!”
A few customers turned, pulling out their phones. I smiled. Perfect. I walked toward her, keeping my voice calm.
“Emily, leave.”
She stumbled closer.
“You think you’re a big shot now, huh? You think you’re better than us?”
I smirked.
“I don’t have to think it. I just am.”
Her face twisted with rage.
“You’re nothing! Nothing!”
And then, splash. I didn’t even see it coming. She had grabbed a drink off a random customer’s table and threw it at me. A wave of cold beer hit my chest. The entire lot went dead silent. A second later, two of my security guards tackled her to the ground. The crowd erupted in gasps and whispers.
Mom screamed.
“Let her go! She’s your sister!”
I brushed my soaked shirt and turned to my head of security.
“Call the cops.”
Emily’s eyes widened in horror.
“What? No! Logan, don’t!”
I crouched down, lowering my voice.
“Actions have consequences.”
Ten minutes later, blue and red lights flashed across the lot. Mom was hysterical.
“You’re ruining the family name!” she shrieked.
I just laughed.
“Lady, you did that all on your own.”
The Tables Turn
Emily was put in the back of the cop car, crying, begging. She looked just like I did all those years ago when they humiliated me. But unlike them, I didn’t care.
Mom turned to me, her voice shaking.
“This is your sister! Do something!”
I crossed my arms.
“Oh, you mean like how you did something when you gave me nothing and laughed in my face?”
She had no answer for that. I turned, walking back toward my customers.
“Oh,” I called over my shoulder. “Hope the beach house is worth it.”
And then I went back to my thriving business. They wanted to watch me fail? Now they had front-row seats to my success.
After Emily’s drunken meltdown and arrest, I thought they’d finally get the message. I was wrong. A week later, Mom and Dad showed up at my business again. This time they weren’t smug. They weren’t laughing. They looked desperate.
I was in the middle of a meeting with my event planner when I spotted them hovering near the entrance, awkward and out of place. For years I had been the one feeling small around them. Never enough, never worthy. Now, I was the one in control.
I finished my meeting, let them wait a little longer, then finally walked over, arms crossed.
“You’re back,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “Let me guess. Emily sent you because she’s too embarrassed to face me.”
Dad cleared his throat.
“We need to talk, Logan.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, like the talk we had when you laughed in my face and handed me a piece of garbage while giving Emily a mansion?”
Mom pursed her lips.
“This isn’t about the past.”
I chuckled.
“Oh, it’s about the past. Because if you hadn’t treated me like dirt, you wouldn’t be standing here begging me for help.”
Her eye twitched, but she forced a calm expression.
“We’re in trouble.”
I already knew Emily had maxed out her credit cards trying to keep up appearances. Her beach house was on the verge of foreclosure because she had refinanced it three times to fund her influencer lifestyle. And Dad’s business was bleeding money because the economy crashed and his trusted business partners bailed on him. They were sinking, and now I was their only lifeline.
Dad exhaled.
“Logan, we’re family. And family helps each other.”
I burst out laughing.
“That’s rich. You didn’t care at all about family when you screwed me over. Now that you’re broke, suddenly it’s about family.”
Mom stiffened.
“You have more than enough to help us. Why are you being so… so spiteful?”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
“Spiteful? Oh, no. Spiteful would be me buying your house just to kick you out of it.”
Their eyes widened. Dad’s face paled.
“You wouldn’t.”
