She Became Rich After Divorce by Georgina Lane

Chapter 708: Am I Really Your Son?

In Miller Residence, a dark figure suddenly appeared in the pitch-black house.

If it weren't for the fact that everyone in the villa had returned home for the day, he would have surely scared them.

Out of habit, he looked towards the small room on the second floor and instinctively called out, "Mother."

But there was no reply.

He couldn't help but mock himself for being foolish because... his mother had passed away a long time ago.

No one would ever bring him a bowl of steamy soup again.

His eyes grew dim.

He navigated through the darkness and made his way up to the second floor. After changing into a black robe, he picked up his phone and headed out, alone, to watch a movie.

"Hell," a film by the renowned director, was highly praised by others but ended up being boring for him, as he dozed off in the theater.

Still by himself, lonely, he made his way home.

While on the road, he noticed a small shop that was still open. A big red lantern hung from the eaves, emitting a warm, golden-red glow.

Benson pushed his hands deeper into his sleeves, resembling a disappointed and solitary swordsman, as he walked inside.

A moment later, he walked out again.

Just like before, only this time he had an oily paper package in his hands.

As he passed through the living room, he was about to turn on the lights when suddenly the crystal chandelier brightened, illuminating the entire hall, which was immaculately clean. "You are back," a chilly voice suddenly echoed through the hall.

The person sitting on the sofa slowly stood up, their deep and composed eyes fixed directly on Benson.

It had been almost eight years since they last met.

Benson looked at his father, with his white hair, and a wave of excitement washed over him. He couldn't help but let tears well up in his eyes as he softly called out, "Father!"

"Mm!"

man, around fifty years old, stood tall

proper care, even his

was Rohan, whom Cheyenne had encountered in the

going to Truphis tomorrow, and this

these years, had grown taller than him by

become a full-fledged

his deceased wife in his appearance, causing a hint of redness in his eyes. He suppressed his emotions, trying

hesitation, Benson refused his command and glanced upstairs,

moved, and his emotions sank.

speaking, an unexpected backhand slapped his

a fresh imprint of five fingers, its deep-set eyes shimmering

at his father, whose face had turned frosty. His cold eyes resembled the harshness of winter

not allowed to mention her? It was because of you that she died. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't be

his voice turned icy, accusing his

light, almost losing his balance and falling. Fortunately, he had

So, you should follow my arrangements. Whatever I tell you to do you

this moment, Benson truly felt

a deeply disappointed

bitterness and mockery contained in that smile

at his own palm

didn't regret slapping

he found

always walked on eggshells to please his father, studying

let himself

his father

excellent children.

every day, devoting all his time to playing the piano

he received was

of him, the esteemed Rohan, the head

didn't lack a single

death, he wandered

of concern, nor a greeting. Even when they met, it was distant and perfunctory

go,"

he turned on his heel and walked up