Parents Kick Teen Son Out — 17 Years Later, They Are Sure He Rents a Room but See His Costly House Instead

I thought I had made peace with my past, but when my parents showed up at my front door last week—staring at my house like they’d walked into the wrong place—it hit me: old wounds don’t heal easily.

Seventeen years ago, I told them I wouldn’t go to med school. I wanted to act and maybe start a business. My father’s response was brutal: “If you can’t carry on the family legacy, you don’t belong here.” That was it. I left with nothing but a bag of clothes and $100. They moved to the UK, and my brother became their golden child—a neurosurgeon making millions. Meanwhile, I was the son they never spoke of.

When my parents returned to Sydney, I didn’t expect much. They rarely asked about my life, and I’m sure they thought I was struggling. But when they started house-hunting and realized Sydney’s property market was too much for them, I suggested they visit my place.

When they saw my home—luxurious and modern—their jaws dropped. My mother asked if I rented. “I own it,” I said. That’s when things got ugly. They accused me of lying and working in shady businesses, but I told them the truth: I’d built my success in banking, not through deceit.

Then, my mother made a shocking request: “We’ll stay with you, not your brother.” After 17 years of silence, they wanted to live with me. I laughed. “You think you can walk back into my life after all this time and just take over?”

When they tried to guilt-trip me, threatening to cut me out of the will, I shrugged. “Good luck with that,” I said.

My mom finally whispered, “We just wanted the best for you.” I replied, “No, you wanted the best for *you*—another doctor in the family. But I built my own life.”

My father warned, “You’ll regret this.” I just shook my head. “No. I’ve already made peace with it.”

And with that, I showed them the door.