Higgers, Welcome back to our slash pro revenge.

In this video, imagine you as stranged and titled parents showing up at your office after ten years, not to apologize, but to demand a two hundred thousand dollars success fee for raising you.

They claimed they made me tough by leaving me homeless as a child, and I showed them what being tough means.

And the first entitled parents pro revenge Reddit story is titled parents abandoned me at my lowest.

Now I made it and they demand two hundred thousand dollars for raising me.

I was always the problem child, not because I was bad or rebellious, but because I had a learning disability that made me struggle in school while my younger sister breathed through with straight a's.

In a family obsessed with appearances and academic achievement, I was the embarrassment they tried to hide.

My parents never said it directly, but I knew.

I saw it in how they would change the subject when their friends asked about me.

How they would light up talking about my sister's scholarships while glossing over my technical college applications.

How they'd introduce hers our daughter the honor student, while I was just their other kid.

By the time I turned nineteen, I made peace with being the black sheep.

What I didn't expect was for them to actually get rid of me.

I came home one afternoon after my shift at a furniture warehouse to find most of our stuff gone.

The apartment we had rented for years was nearly empty, just my bedroom furniture and a few boxes of my things stacked by the door.

There was an envelope on the kitchen counter with my name on it.

Inside was a short note and enough cash to cover one month of reriend.

The note said that they had paid the landlord through the end of the month and that they were moving to a better opportunity, and that I was old enough to handle things on my own.

They had moved to a gated community three hours away, the kind of place with a golf course and strict day to a rules, basically the life they'd always wanted.

My sister, which just started university, would be staying with them during breaks.

They didn't leave a forwarding address, just a phone number.

I called once, which went to voicemail.

I left message asking what I was supposed to do, and they never called back.

I won't lie and say I handled it well at first.

I spent that first month in a Hayes, going to work, coming back to that half empty apartment, eating instant noodles because I had to stretch every dollar.

The silence in that place was deafening.

I'd grown up with my family's constant noise, my sister's music, my parents' arguments, and now there was just me and the echo of my footsteps on bare floors.

I tried to stay positive though, told myself this was temporary and that I would figure something out.

But when the month ran out, reality hit hard.

I couldn't afford to renew the lease on my warehouse salary.

The math just didn't work.

The landlord was sympathetic, but not sympathetic enough to let me stay without paying.

He had his own bills to deal with.

I ended up sleeping on a coworker's couch for a while, and then in my beat up car when that arrangement fell through.

Those first few weeks living in my car were brutal.

Summer heat made it impossible to sleep during the day.

I would drive two different parking lots each night, trying not to look suspicious, always worried about getting harassed by security or police.

I would shower at the gym when I could afford the day, pass brush my teeth and gas station bathrooms, change into work clothes in public restrooms while pretending that I was just a regular customer.

The worst part was not the physical discomfort.

It was the constant hiding.

I would show up to work, pretending everything was fine, making excuses why I couldn't meet up with coworkers after shifts, always worried that someone would figure out I was actually homeless.

The shame of it was worse than the actual hardship.

I felt like I'd confirmed everything my parents believed about me, that I couldn't handle life on my own, that I was the family failure.

What saved me was getting hired onto a construction crew.

The pay was better than the warehouse, and more importantly, the side supervisor didn't care about my formal education.

He cared that I showed up on time, followed instructions, and was not afraid of hard work.

I learned fast, kept my head down and absorbed everything I could about the trade.

Construction here in South America is different and from up North, more informal.

In some ways, but requiring the same fundamentals.

I learned concrete work, framing, and basic electrical work.

Spent my days in the sun, my body getting stronger while my bank account slowly, painfully, slowly started to grow.

The guys on the crew became my real family.

When they found out I was living in my car, one of them, an older guy named Hugo, offered me a room in his house for cheap rent.

It wasn't much, basically a converted storage room, but it had a bed a door that locked.

I damn near cried when I moved in.

I worked construction for three years, moving from laborer to assistant foreman.

While my former classmates were posing pictures from clubs and beach trips, I was learning how to read blueprints and calculate material costs.

I kept a notebook where I tracked every peso I spent, every peso I saved.

It became an obsession watching those numbers slowly climb up.

The guys on the crew taught me more than just construction.

They taught me about pride in your work, about showing up even when you're retired, and about the satisfaction of building something with your hands.

Hugo especially became like the father I should have had.

He would critique my work, honestly, celebrate my progress, give me advice about saving money and planning for the future.

When I finally moved out of his storage room into my own place, he helped me move my few belongings and brought over a six pack to celebrate.

The turning point came when the company I worked for took on a renovation project for a real estate investor.

I got to see the business side of things.

How he had bought a rundown property for nothing, fixed it up cheap using crews like ours, and then either sold it for profit or rented it out.

Then numbers fascinated me.

He had spent maybe thirty thousand on renovations and sold the place for ninety thousand.

That sixty thousand dollars profit kept running through my head.

I started studying real estate in my spare time, reading everything I could find, watching videos, taking free online courses, learned about property values, market trans mortgage financing, and tenant laws.

The local library became my second home.

And by the way, guys let me know in the comments, do you guys still go to libraries?

I gotta say now, I don't really go because I'm not even sure if libraries really exist in Thailand, at least where I live.

But in the past I absolutely loved going to libraries and getting new books.

Also, while you're at it, please don't forget to like the video and post some star emojis in the comments if you want to show me your support.

Thanks a lot.

Anyway, I would spend hours there after work reading books about property investments, studying successful developers, learning about zoning regulations and text implications.

It became an obsession.

The investor noticed my interests, started explaining his strategies, showing me how he evaluated properties, teaching me how to support good deals.

He was not being altruistic, he needed reliable contractors, but I learned more from him in six months than I could have from years of business school.

After some years, I'd saved enough to buy my first property.

Nothing fancy, a small apartment in a rough area that needed some serious work.

The bank thought I was crazy for buying in that neighborhood, but I could see what others couldn't.

The area was on the edge of gentrification.

Prices would rise.

Eventually, I negotia I did it with my boss to let me use company materials at cost, and did most of the renovation myself on weekends.

Took me many months of brutal, long days, but when I finished, I rented it out for triple what my mortgage payment was.

That first property taught me lessons no book could I dealt with a tenant who trash the place and disappeared without paying.

Learned about proper tenants, screening the hard way, had to replace pipes that burst in the middle of winter, wiping out two months of profit.

Discovered that being a landlord meant being on call twenty four hours, dealing with emergencies at three in the morning.

But that rental income, even after the expenses, changed everything.

It was money.

I didn't have to work for it directly.

It was money that came in while I slept, while I worked other jobs.

And that is when it clicked.

This was the way forward.

I bought another property months later, then another, started hiring crews to do the work instead of doing it all myself.

I reinvested every pay so of profit back into more properties.

And my strategy was simple, buying developing areas before prices jumped.

Renovative fishion rented market rate, saved the profit, and repeat.

At some point I had a small portfolio of rental units generating steady income.

The lee from small time landlord to actual developer happened when I bought my first piece of undeveloped land.

It was a gamble, using every dollar I had plus a massive loan, but I could see the potential.

The area was growing, new businesses, moving in infrastructure improving.

I built a small apartment complex, just six units, managing every detail of the construction myself.

When I filled all six units within a month of completion, I knew I had found my niche.

By twenty seven, I shifted from buying and renovating to developing.

Bought land, built small apartment complexes, filled them with tenants.

The company I had started in my spare time became my full time focus.

I hired the property manager, than a team of them expanded into commercial real estate, building small shopping centers and office spaces.

I won't pretend it was easy or that I didn't make mistakes.

I overpaid for properties, got burned by bad contractors, dealt with nightmare tns, and nearly went bankrupt twice.

But I learned from every failure, adjusted and kept pushing forward, and by thirty I was legitimately wealthy, not flashy wealthy.

I still drove a bot of struck and lived in a simple apartment, but my company owned properties across two cities worth millions.

I had employees, accountant's lawyers on retainer.

The kid who couldn't afford rent at nineteen was now a real estate developer with a growing empire.

I never tried to contact my parents again.

I mean, why would I.

They had made their choice clear.

I occasionally thought about them, wondered if they ever regretted abandoning me, But mostly I was too busy building my life, too dwell on the past.

Then one afternoon, my secretary told me I had visitors at the office claiming to be my parents.

I almost told her to send them away, but curiosity got the better of me.

I had not seen them in over ten years.

What could they possibly want?

They looked older, my dad had gone gray, my mom had put on weight.

They were dressed well, though, expensive clothes, jewelry, and the kind of polished appearance that screamed money.

They said across from my desk in my office, looking around at the space with barely concealed surprise.

We exchanged awkward pleasantries for about thirty seconds before my dad cut to the chase.

So they had heard through mutual acquaintances that I had done well for myself.

They were proud of me, he said, though he couldn't quite meet my eyes when he said it.

They wanted to reconnect, be a family again.

I asked about my sister.

She had graduated, gotten married, was living her life.

They still talked to her regularly.

I asked why they had decided to reach out now, after all this time.

My mom got teary eyed.

She said they had made mistakes, that leaving me was the hardest decision they had ever made, and that they thought I needed to learn independence.

Wow, that's an amazing excuse to leave your kid.

That I had proven them right by becoming successful.

It was all bs, and we all knew it.

But I let them talk.

Then my dad got to the rear point.

They had invested a lot into raising me, He said, food shelter, education for nineteen years.

Now that I'd made it big, it was only fair that I compensated for that investment.

They had calculated a success fee of two hundred thousand dollars.

I converted that from pesos, so you guys can get a feel for how much they were asking, and I actually just laughed.

I couldn't help it.

The sheer audacity of showing up after abandoning me, pretending it was for my own good, and then demanding a six figure payment was so absurd it was almost impressive.

My dad's face went red.

He started talking about how I wouldn't have the work ethic to succeed if they had not been tough on me, how I owed them everything.

My mom chimed in about the sacrifices they had made, how they had given up so much to raise me.

I let them finish their little speech, then I told them to get the hell out of my office.

They didn't take it well, though.

My dad started yelling about how I was ungrateful, how I'd always been difficult.

My mom cried even harder, saying they had known I would react this way, that I'd always been selfish, and then security escotted them out.

Two days later, I got a call from my corporate office.

Someone had called claiming I added clients, that I was running illegal operations and that I had built my business on stolen money.

The accusations were baseless and obviously faults, but they had caused enough confusion that I had to spend hours on the phone with lawyers and accountants proving everything was legitimate.

I knew immediately it was my parents.

The timing was too perfect.

They called again a week later from a different number, and this time my mom did the talking.

Calmer now, she said, if I just gave them what they deserved, they would leave me alone.

If I didn't, they would keep causing problems.

They knew people had connections and could make my life difficult.

I told them I would think about it and hung up.

I was not thinking about paying them, I was thinking about how to end this.

That is when I started digging into their lives.

I hired a private investigator, nothing fancy, just someone to check public records and social media.

And what I found was interesting.

My parents were broke, not struggling, completely underwater.

They had bought a house in that fancy gated community, way more than they could afford to keep up the appearance.

The place had a pool, three car garage, belonged to the country club that works, and my dad's business had failed years ago.

My mom didn't work and They had been living on credit cards and loans, refinancing their house over and over, taking out more debt to pay old debt.

The investigator's report painted a clear picture.

They were drowning credit cards, mixed out personal loans from multiple sources, even owed money to family friends.

They had kept up the facade perfectly, still posting vacation photos on social media, still attending country club events, still driving expensive cars.

But it was all borrowed money, all smoke and mirrors.

The bank was about to foreclothes on their house.

They were three months behind on payments, facing a viction from their dream neighborhood.

The irony was not lost on me.

They had abandoned me to chase this lifestyle, and now the lifestyle was collapsing around them.

That's why they had come to me, not because they had suddenly developed parental feelings, not because they wanted to reconnect for real.

They were desperate, and I was their last hope for a bailout.

The old me might have felt simple.

And by the way, guys, let me know in the comments, would you have felt any sympathy for these parents?

What would you have done in this situation?

Would you have helped them?

Before their life completely collapses and they might be losing their house or something.

Let me know what you would have done in the comments.

Either way, the me who had slept in his car and showered at gas stations just felt cold calculation.

I had resources, now, connections, money.

I could help them, or I could do something else entirely.

I had my lawyer reach out to their bank well.

I expressed interest in buying defaulted mortgages and bulk and said we were expanding our portfolio.

The bank was happy to sell, and they just wanted these problem loans of their books.

I bought my parents' mortgage debt for sixty cents on the payso slash dollar.

The bank didn't care who was buying it.

They just wanted it gone.

The paperwork went through a subsidiary of my company, nothing directly traceable to me, and just like that, I owned their debt.

I was now their bank.

I didn't contact them, I just waited.

According to the records, they were now four months behind.

Foreclosure proceedings were already in motion, but I slowed them down, had my lawyers file extensions, drag things out.

I wanted to give them some time to really sweat and They called me again from the same number.

My dad sounded different this time, less angry, more pleading.

He said they'd been too harsh before, that they just wanted to work something out.

Could I loan them some money just to get through a rough patch?

I said, I would think about it.

Time passed.

They were five months behind now.

My lawyers sent them for closure notices, standard procedure, signed by the subsidiary company name they wouldn't recognize.

My dad called again, frantic.

This time their bank had sold their mortgage to some investment company.

He said they were going to lose their house.

Did I know any real estate investors who might help them?

Could I put in a good word, I said, I would see what I could do.

The foreclosure proceeded on schedule.

My lawyers were efficient, everything by the book.

The local court approved it without issue.

These things happen all the time.

My parents had thirty days to vacate the property, and that's when they called one last time.

My mom was sobbing, barely coherent.

They were losing everything, she said.

The bank, no, the investment company whoever owned their mortgage now was throwing them out.

They didn't have anywhere to go.

All their savings, their retirement.

Everything was tied up in that house.

She begged me for a loan two hundred thousand dollars, the same amount they had demanded before, but now they were begging for it.

They would pay me back, she promised, and they just needed help.

I asked where they were planning to move, and she said they had found a cheap apartment month to monthly is in a rough area.

It was all they could have fought.

Now.

She gave me the address.

I recognized it immediately.

It was in the same complex where they had abandoned me all those years ago.

The building had gotten worse since then, more run down, cheaper, rant I knew because I had bought the entire complex two years ago as an investment property.

It was part of my portfolio now.

And yeah.

I let the silence stretch out, and then I told them I couldn't help them.

My mom started crying harder.

My dad grabbed the phone started telling again about how I owed them, how they had raised me, and how I was abandoning them, which just like they tad.

He stopped my sentence, realizing what he had almost said.

I finished it for him, just like they abandoned me.

The line went quiet.

I could hear my mom stopping in the background, and my dad's heavy breathing.

I told them the investment company they had bought their mortgage that was mine.

The apartment complex they were moving into also mine.

Every month when they paid rent, assuming they could afford it, they would be paying me.

I'd own them the same way they had thought they owned me When they demanded their success fee.

My dad called me something I won't repeat, said I was cruel, vindictive, and that I'd planned this whole thing, that I'd become just like them, maybe even worse.

And well, he wasn't wrong about the planning.

I had absolutely engineered this the moment I'd learned about their financial situation, I'd seen the opportunity.

It was methodical, calculated, exactly the kind of business decision they'd probably admire if it was happening to someone else.

I told them they had taught me an important lesson when I was nineteen, that family doesn't mean anything when money's involved, that when times get tough, you look out for yourself and let the weak figure read out on their own.

They had made me tough, just like they had claimed, but now they could experience what their toughness looked like from the other side.

My mom got back on the phone, begging again, saying they were sorry that they'd made mistakes, that they loved me, but I didn't believe them.

Love doesn't abandon you in a half empty apartment with one month's rent and a note.

Love does not demand money for basic parenting.

Love does not threaten your business when you say no.

I told them their rent was due on the first of the month, same as all my other tenants.

If they were late, I would a VICTI him, following proper legal procedure.

I would give them the same consideration I gave everyone else.

No more, no less.

They moved into that apartment complex the next week.

I didn't go see them, didn't need to.

My property manager sent me the signed leaves and first month's rent payment.

They had paid on time for the first three months, and then they were late.

Then they missed a payment entirely.

My property manager followed procedures and notices and started the eviction proceedings.

I could have stopped it, yeah, could have told my manager to give them another chance, but I didn't.

They called one more time before the eviction, and through my dad said they had learned their lesson that I'd made my point, Could Ween please work something out?

But I told him he was old enough to figure it out on his own, and then I hung up, and Yeah, the eviction went through.

Last I heard, they had moved in with my sister, who apparently was not thrilled about it, but felt obligated.

She called me once, angry, saying I was heartless for doing this to our parents.

I reminded her that she had no problem keeping in contact with them while they pretended I didn't exist, and that she had benefited from their support while I was homeless, and that she could have reached out at any time in the past ten years but chose not two.

She didn't have much to say to that.

And you guys let me know in the comments whether you think op was an a hole in this story or whether he did the right thing.

Thank you so much for your opinion.

And now let's read some opinions from Reddit.

The first comment said the following, you the a hole, and honestly, you've become exactly what you hated about them.

Look what your parents did was absolutely terrible.

Abandoning you at nineteen was cruel and showing up the man money was delusional.

I'm not defending them at all, but dude, you didn't just refuse to help them.

You orchestrated their complete financial destruction like some cartoon villain.

You actively bought their debts, slowed down for closure proceedings to let them sweat, and then became their landlord to control them.

That's not just this, That is sadistic.

You could have just said no and moved on with your life, but instead you spent time, money, and energy making sure they suffered as much as possible.

The fact that you admitted you engineered the whole thing proves this was not about protecting yourself.

It was about revenge.

You wanted them to fear what you felt, and you had the resources to make it happen.

So you did.

And now they are homeless again, living with your sister, who didn't even do anything to you.

You've dragged her into this mess too.

Your parents were awful, yeah, but that doesn't give you a free pass to be awful back.

You became the exact same, cold, calculating person who values money over people concrats.

I guess you had every right to refuse them.

You had every right to go no, contact forever.

But you did not have the right to systematically destroy them just because you could.

That is not strength or justice.

That's cruelty with a business plan.

The sadest part is that you clearly haven't healed from what they did.

A healed person would have sent them away and never thought about them again.

But instead you still so consumed by what happened that you dedicated months to making them suffer.

They still control you, just in a different way.

Your success should have been the best revenge.

Instead, you proved that deep down you still that hurt nineteen year old, just with more money and power to inflict pain.

Common number two.

Not the a hole, not even a little bit.

Everyone in the commons saying you went too far is forgetting what they actually did to you.

They didn't just make a mistake.

They legit abandoned their nineteen year old son, left him homeless, and then ghosted him for a decade.

Do you know how many nights you could have died sleeping in that car, how close you came to giving up completely.

They didn't care, and they didn't come back because they missed you or felt guilty.

They came back because they wanted money, and they literally calculated a success feed like you were some kind of investment property.

When you refused, they tried to destroy your business with false accusations.

So these are parents.

These are opportunistic strangers who happened to share your DNA.

Also, you didn't orchestrate their destruction like someone else has said.

They destroyed themselves with terrible financial decisions and came to you expecting a bailout.

All you did was business.

You bought distress debt completely legal, and you enforced Lee's agreements completely standard.

If they had done this to any other landlord, the result would have been the same.

People are calling you cruel for behind their debt, But let's be real.

If you hadn't bought it, someone else would have, and that person would not have given them three months of on time payment before starting eviction proceedings.

You actually gave them more chances than a random investor would have.

The imagined crowd needs to actually imagine what it's like to be nineteen, homeless and abandoned by the people who were supposed to love you unconditionally.

Then imagine those same people showing up when you finally made something of yourself, not to apologize, but to demand money and threaten you when you refuse.

Also, your sister is mad.

Where was she for ten years?

She kept a relationship with them while you were struggling and never once reached out.

She benefited from their support while you got nothing.

She does not get to judge you now.

You don't owe them anything, not money, not mercy, not a second chance.

They made their choices and now they are living with the consequences.

That's not revenge or something.

That is just live And the next one is a more lighthearted party revenge story, but it is absolutely worth listening too, so don't turn off the video just yet.

It starts like this.

So I was living in an apartment, having a neighbor on right and one on top.

Both neighbors had kids that made a lot of noise during day and night.

I didn't really have a problem with noises at day.

They were kids and it was understandable, but really, who the hell runs and screams up to three am?

So several times I wrote in the building WhatsApp group that please keep your children quiet at night, as I and everyone else need to sleep and wake up early.

I got no answers, or if I did, it was their parents.

Telling their kids and they will try, but cannot promise anything.

Fast forward to my birthday.

One of my friends gave me this amazing sound bar and when I got home, I was too excited to hear some music from it.

It was like twelve am, and I really was not thinking about any revenge or something.

Just wanted to try this new sound bar and didn't notice it's too late.

I played my rock playlist with a high volume and meanwhile on my PC trying to figure out its features.

At around two thirty am, the same neighbor top floor came and knocked on my door.

It was then before opening the door that I realized what time it is.

I opened the door and saw it's him trying to ask to keep it quiet before he starts speaking.

I told him sorry, I didn't notice the time and turned it off.

Didn't mention his kids or anything.

He appreciated it and went From that day on, None of those two neighbor kids made any noise at night, not a single day.

Like their parents had all control over the kids to keep them quiet at night, but didn't feel it was necessary until they felt the other neighbors can also make midnight noises only if I knew this earlier, I would have bought the sound bar way earlier.

And the next one is an amazing petty revenge story which is titled X would not pay me back, so I made her pay via the bell bill.

This was a few years ago now, but I did find it fun to think about.

Not sure if it belongs here.

Started dating at fifteen, moved in together at eighteen, and within six months of living together, she cheated on me.

She owed me something like eight hundred dollars for one month's rent and for a vet bill I paid for.

We still lived together for six months after we broke up because despite me being able to move back home, she expected me to move a hot and also continue paying my portion of rent.

It sucked, but it sucked less than paying for her to have her own place.

The TV slash Internet bill was in her name.

We had cable, and the fact that she owed me money was documented via email.

I very strategically sent many emails asking her to confirm that she was aware she owed me money and how much.

I also asked if we could just deduct my portion of the cable bill from the dead she owed me On the second last month of our lease.

She was hounding me for my portion of the Internet Slash cable bill about thirty dollars.

Wouldn't take no for an answer and threatened to not pay and have it turned off.

Had another roommate in school who needed it, so I paid my part.

By this time, she was staying with the man she cheated on me with, so she was not really around ever well.

For some reason, when she moved out all her stuff, she left the cable box and Wi Fi route her.

I guess, assuming I was still paying Slash using it, I brought my own TV to use after her and her new boyfriend came in one day and took hers without saying anything while I was actively watching it with a Tinder hookup.

That was an awkward night at it.

To be more clear, I mean it was her TV.

They came in and took it.

Like I brought in my own TV after they came to collect her TV.

It was just awkward that I was actively watching her TV where they came to get it.

Anyway, I knew I was never getting my money back, so I had an idea.

By every channel that exists, all extras, I could by it just with the four digit pin before this, I emailed her one last time, saying something like, just to confirm, my portion of the month's bill will be subtracted from X amount you ome to me correct and she agreed.

These purchases began a week or two before I moved back in with my parents.

I bought every channel individually, bought and rented movies, even started paying for pay per view porn because I thought it was hilarious.

I kept track of everything I purchased, rack the bill up to almost x exactly how much money she owed me, leaving a bit of space in case I'm miscalculated, but it was about seven hundred and fifty dollars.

When she got the bill, I was back with my parents.

She came to my parents' house bill in hand.

My father answered the door meekly stated something like, oh, PEA, spend so much on this bill.

I cannot afford it, to which my father responded, used the money you owe to pay for it, and closed the door on her.

I was listening and out of sight.

Whether or not she ended up having to pay, I'll never know, but it felt good to do at the time.

Fun detail here They were engaged to each other after two or three months and they are still engaged to this day.

Four and a half years later, still not married, and she is pregnant with his child.

Added in two thousand and four, they broke up.

She just had his baby.

She is now a single mom to the child she had with this man she cheated on me with.

Not sure who broke up with who, but that is hilarious.

Another edit.

They broke up because she walked in on him cheating on her in their bed.

I think he left her for the other woman.

And then the other woman dumped him and he begged for her back and she took him back.

Oh my god, what a mess.

I hope you enjoyed today's stories and I will see you again tomorrow.