After leaving the airport—he hadn't even made it past customs—Snoopy found that people were already recognizing him. Even the security officers came over to ask for his autograph.
The feeling was surreal. Am I really this famous back home now?
As he walked forward, the crowd around him kept growing like waves. If it weren't for the airport security stepping in to create a special passage, both he and Daphne, who had just arrived with him, would've been swallowed up by the sea of fans.
They exited through the VIP lane and reached the parking lot, where a driver arranged by his father was already waiting.
Snoopy thought, No way it's still the old Mercedes S600. After all, the chauffeur had already quit—so where would the car even come from?
But the truth surprised him even more—it wasn't the S600. It was a Rolls-Royce Ghost. A stretch Ghost.
Snoopy immediately frowned. Seriously? Mom's out working to help out, and he's still putting up this fake front?
The driver, polite and professional, opened the door for them.
Daphne, wide-eyed, whispered, "Snoopy, your family's this rich? Is this driver from the U.K. or something?"
Snoopy replied, "More likely my dad just rented all this. He's the kind of man who can't stand losing face. When you meet him, just praise him a little—don't expose anything, okay?"
He gave her a knowing look. No one knows his father better than his own son.
Soon, the car rolled up to a luxurious villa.
Even though Snoopy had seen plenty of villas, this was something else entirely. A villa in the city center was rare enough—but inside, the décor was pure extravagance.
The moment they stepped inside, Daphne was hit by the overwhelming sense of wealth.
Snoopy was stunned too—and angry. At a time like this, he's still showing off?
Then, in the grand hall, they finally met his father.
"My good son! I've been waiting for you to come home!" he boomed proudly. "Everyone, these are my business partners—real estate moguls! Take a good look—this is my boy! He's about to be an NBA player!"
He was practically glowing with pride.
Then he turned to Daphne. "And this—this is my son's girlfriend. Gorgeous, right? Stunning, isn't she?"
Snoopy could only sigh inwardly. It was exactly like when he was a kid—every time he got first place, his dad would drive him around on New Year's Eve, showing off his son's report card to every friend he knew. Back then, the audience had been millionaires. Now it was billionaires.
Bigger circle, same personality.
Normally, Snoopy would've been embarrassed. But today, he played along—shaking every hand, greeting every businessman.
Dad's struggling right now, he thought. I've got to help him save face.
Then, a familiar voice called from the hallway—his mother, rushing in with tears in her eyes. She grabbed Snoopy's hand the moment she saw him. "You've lost weight, baby! It's Mom's fault—I never should've sent you so far away to study!"
Lost weight? Snoopy blinked. I'm nearly 200 pounds now.
His father turned away quickly, trying to keep his composure. "What are you crying for? Is that how a mother greets her son? Take them upstairs already!"
She shot him a glare but did as told, leading Snoopy and Daphne upstairs.
…
Two hours later, father's voice echoed from below. "Dinner time!"
As they came down, Snoopy asked, "Dad, where did all those guys go?"
"I sent them off," he said with a satisfied grin. "Mission accomplished! They came here to learn from our family—how to raise a successful son! My son: UCLA business school, full scholarship, MVP of American college basketball, the next MJ! Not bad, huh?"
He was practically glowing.
Snoopy was speechless.
Daphne stared, dumbfounded.
Snoopy laughed. "Don't mind him—when he's at home, he's all jokes. But out in public, he's actually pretty scary."
Dinner went smoothly, full of laughter.
When the table was cleared, Snoopy pulled out a bank card and handed it to his dad.
Father looked at it. "What's this? You out of money? I'll you some."
"Dad, drop the act. I know everything."
Snoopy's tone grew serious. "I know about your situation—the loan issues, the broken cash flow. This card has 20 million U.S. dollars in it. Use it to stabilize things. If it's not enough, I'll figure something out."
Father blinked. "Twenty million… for emergencies? You mean your endorsement money?"
"Dad!" Snoopy insisted, "There's no one else here. You don't have to keep pretending."
His father slammed the table. "How would my capital chain have problems?!"
"Dad, stop pretending. Even if everything's gone, I'll support you. If you want to start over, I'll help you with everything."
Snoopy put a hand on his shoulder. His voice was full of emotion.
"Dad, come on. If things were fine, would Mom really be out working again? Would you forget to send me my living expenses?" Snoopy argued.
His mother quickly interjected, "That's not true! My performances have nothing to do with your father's finances."
His father frowned. "Forget your allowance? I told the driver to send you an extra $20,000 every month since last New Year!"
"I never got it!" Snoopy was taken aback.
His father immediately called the driver in.
The man rushed inside, confused and nervous. When questioned, he swore he had transferred the money—and even fetched the bank records from his car.
Snoopy checked them—and froze. The money had been going to one of his old accounts. The one he hadn't used in almost a year.
They suddenly realized—when the old driver left, he must not have told the new one about the account change. The whole thing had been a simple mix-up.
Both "proofs" of bankruptcy were gone.
Snoopy was stunned. So Dad never went broke? Never lost his cash flow? Then why did I take out that massive high-interest loan?!
Dad frowned. "Where'd you get the money to loan out?"
Snoopy admitted the truth. "I borrowed it."
Dad slapped his forehead and sighed. "Guess I'll just sell one of my assets, then."
Snoopy froze.
He instantly waved his hands. "No, no, no! Don't you dare sell it! If you do, I'll regret it forever!"