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!"

years old, stood tall and

features. With proper care, even his

had encountered in the

household staff. I'm going to Truphis tomorrow, and

years, had grown taller than him by almost a

had become

a resemblance to his deceased wife in his appearance, causing a hint of redness in his eyes. He suppressed his emotions, trying to meet his father's gaze with

hesitation, Benson refused his command and glanced upstairs,

and his emotions sank. "I want to stay here with

speaking, an unexpected backhand slapped his

face bore a fresh imprint of five fingers, its

frosty. His cold eyes resembled the harshness of winter as he declared, "You are not allowed to mention her

was because of you that she died. If it weren't

Benson's eyes as his voice turned

him about this matter, Rohan's figure trembled under the light, almost losing his balance

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

felt the irony

let out a

contained in that smile made Rohan's heart skip a

at his own palm with a determined

regret slapping

because he

on eggshells to please his father, studying

let himself be hindered

his

excellent children.

every day, devoting all his time to playing the piano

was the

esteemed Rohan, the head of the Miller family, had plenty

didn't lack a

he wandered alone for

word of concern, nor a greeting. Even when they met, it was distant and perfunctory commands, nothing

go," Benson

his decision, he turned on his heel and walked