Chapter 1: The Whispers of Thanksgiving

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This entry is part 1 of 9 in the series Humiliated by my family for my 'failed' gothic life, I revealed I'd bought the supernatural hub my father coveted.

Humiliated by my family for my 'failed' gothic life, I revealed I'd bought the supernatural hub my father coveted.

Chapter 1: The Whispers of Thanksgiving

Chapter 2: Echoes of Undervalued Stone

Chapter 3: The Sister’s Revelation

Chapter 4: Croft’s Shady Ledger

Chapter 5: The Sabotage Unveiled

Chapter 6: Summons to the Veil

Chapter 7: The Reckoning Beneath the Manor

Chapter 8: The Aftermath’s Chill

Chapter 9: A Legacy Unveiled

Part 1

🪽 **Humiliated by my family for my ‘failed’ gothic life, I revealed I’d bought the supernatural hub my father coveted.**

“Eleanor, darling, still clinging to that old manor and its whispers of ancient magic?” my mother Beatrice simpered, her voice dripping with pity as she watched my younger sister Elara pose beside her new electric Bentley. “One day, you’ll see how silly all that was, taking the municipal trolley while Elara drives a car worthy of the Finch name.”

I simply nodded, used to the annual Thanksgiving ritual.

Then a low, resonant chime echoed from my pocket, a sound only I could perceive. It wasn’t the municipal trolley arriving; it was the signal that the spectral conveyances of the Aetherway Fleet had delivered their final cargo.

The family’s mocking smiles froze as I spoke plainly.

“Actually, Mother, I just completed the acquisition of the Whisperwind Landing.”

My father, Arthur, nearly dropped his glass of merlot.

“Meaning, I now own the very hub of supernatural passage Father’s been trying to impress for two decades.”

Arthur’s face paled, then flushed. Beatrice stared, her perfectly made-up features slackening, as the true, arcane nature of my achievement began to dawn on them.

Part 2

Arthur recovered quickly, his face contorting into a dismissive sneer.

“More of your fanciful notions, Eleanor,” he blustered, waving a hand.

Beatrice chimed in, her voice sharp with forced amusement.

“Oh, darling, still with these childish games? What’s next, a fairy castle?”

I simply watched them, a knowing glint in my eyes. Their deep-seated refusal to acknowledge anything beyond their mundane world was a fortress I had long understood.

Elara, however, shifted uneasily in her seat. The intensity in my voice, the raw shock on our parents’ faces, had clearly disturbed her. She quietly excused herself from the table.

Moments later, I heard the faint murmur of hushed, furious voices from the study.

“That blasted Whisperwind Landing,” I caught Arthur’s growl.

Beatrice’s frantic whisper followed.

“Our investments in that rival Aether-gate venture depend on the liquidation of those old properties! She can’t possibly—”