“What are you staring at? Pointing that cheap phone at me, what are you plotting? Disgusting!”

Beside her stood a bleached-haired young man, twirling the keys to a brand-new Maserati. He sneered at me.

“He wasn’t just pointing it—he was filming under my girlfriend’s skirt! I’ve seen shameless people before, but never anyone as shameless as him!”

Michael spotted me. The tall young man, usually so strong, had tears of humiliation in his eyes.

“Grandpa, I didn’t do it!”

I lifted him up, my heart aching at the sight of his injuries. I had raised him since he lost his parents as a child—I knew his character better than anyone. He would never behave like that.

“Still denying it? Who would frame you? Don’t think just because someone showed up, I’ll back down. You think I’m afraid?”

The bleached-haired youth gave me a contemptuous once-over. No wonder—my faded old U.S. Army uniform was threadbare, and the cloth shoes on my feet had holes in the toes. I must have looked pathetic.

“And here I thought you’d bring someone useful. Turns out it’s just an old relic. Are you sure he can help you? He looks more like dead weight.”

His girlfriend laughed mockingly.

“Didn’t I tell you? The poor always travel in packs.”

“That old man came out of that broken-down place—looks like a lonely geezer with nobody to care for him.”

Since Michael hadn’t suffered life-threatening injuries, I hadn’t wanted to argue with these young people. But their words were far too insulting.

“Young people, watch your tongues. There must be some misunderstanding. My grandson would never spy on you.”

“Misunderstanding?” the girl sneered.

“He pointed his phone under my skirt, and you call that a misunderstanding? Old man, stop pretending. Make your grandson kneel down and apologize right now!”

I kept my temper under control, though my voice turned cold.

“Words have consequences. You had no evidence, yet you beat my grandson and now demand he kneel? Where’s your sense of justice?”

Jason Coleman snorted and stepped forward, jabbing his finger into my chest.

“Justice? With you? Do you think you deserve it, old man?”

“This isn’t over today. Your grandson will kneel and kowtow to me and Samantha Lee, and then pay us a hundred thousand dollars for emotional distress. Otherwise, I’ll see both of you carried into that ‘graveyard for the living’ you call a home.”

“One hundred thousand?” I laughed bitterly.