Daughter-in-Law Urges Husband to Kick Out His Father to Take the Land, But Just One Week Later, Both Receive a Bitter End…

Mr. Bay, now over seventy, had lost his wife early and had raised his son Lam on his own. For decades, he had worked tirelessly on the family land, saving up to build a proper house for Lam and even arranging a proper marriage for his son. He believed his life was fulfilled—just hoping to enjoy his old age surrounded by children and grandchildren.

But life is unpredictable, and hearts can change.

When Thao—Lam’s wife—first became part of the family, she seemed gentle, obedient, and respectful toward her father-in-law. But after giving birth to their first child, her personality shifted dramatically. She often whispered to Lam:

“Honey, our land is so big, but it’s all under dad’s name. If something happens to him, could there be complications?”

At first, Lam brushed it off:
“It’s dad’s land; he worked his whole life for it. When he passes, it will come to us anyway. Why worry?”

But Thao didn’t stop. She planted seeds of doubt in her husband’s mind with sweet but calculated words:
“You’re too naive. What if dad changes his mind, sells it, or gives it to someone else? He’s old; it only takes one bad influence for everything to be lost. Better we ask him to transfer it now.”

Day by day, these whispers became a thorn in Lam’s mind. He began to see his father differently, replacing gratitude with suspicion and calculation.

One afternoon, during a meal, Thao bluntly said:
“Dad is old. How can he manage the land alone? Why doesn’t he just transfer the land to us so we can take care of it?”

Mr. Bay put down his bowl, his eyes filled with sorrow:
“This land is an heirloom from my parents. I’ll only feel at peace when I leave this world. Don’t worry; I would never sell it.”

But Thao persisted, whispering to her husband and even shedding tears to pressure him. Finally, Lam—the only son Mr. Bay had loved dearly—spoke words that pierced his father’s heart:
“Dad… maybe you should move out for a while, and we’ll take care of the house and land.”

Mr. Bay was stunned. After all those years of raising his son, he never imagined his own child would want to evict him. Silently, he packed a few sets of clothes and stepped out of the house he had built with his own hands. No tears, no plea from his daughter-in-law—just a cold, suffocating silence.

He moved to a small shack by the fields. Neighbors felt pity, but he only smiled sadly:
“He is my son; I cannot blame him.”

Yet, just one week later, the story took an unexpected turn.

One morning, local officials and court representatives came to Lam’s house. They brought documents confirming that the land Lam and Thao were living on was scheduled for a district road expansion. Years ago, the authorities had surveyed the land, but because it was under Mr. Bay’s name, all compensation notices had been sent to him. The paperwork was intact—it was just not yet time for expropriation, so Mr. Bay hadn’t informed his son.

The official said sternly:
“According to regulations, all compensation money and resettlement land will go to the person on the title—Mr. Bay. You, as the current occupants, have no right to appeal.”

Hearing this, Thao went pale, and Lam was shaken to his core. They had evicted his father, thinking they would claim the land, but instead, they had pushed themselves out.

Within days, word spread throughout the village. People whispered:
“Ungrateful children are never forgiven by heaven.”
“They lost the land and their virtue.”

Thao bitterly cried and apologized to her husband for her “schemes,” while Lam knelt before his father’s shack, tears streaming:
“Dad, I was wrong. I foolishly listened to my wife. Please forgive me…”

Mr. Bay looked at his crying son, feeling both pain and sorrow. He spoke slowly:
“I don’t blame you; I only have you. But remember, land is temporary. If you lose filial piety, you can never regain it.”

He still accepted the compensation and bought a small house near the market to spend his old age. Lam and Thao, meanwhile, had to fend for themselves, renting a place and experiencing hardship.

The villagers said it was a bitter end for greed and ingratitude. Lam realized that one week of wrong choices cost him both his honor and the bond of family.