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 handsome eyebrows and eyes appeared to be in their

was Rohan, whom Cheyenne had

I'm going to Truphis tomorrow,

Benson, who, after all these years, had grown

had become

his eyes. He suppressed his emotions, trying to meet his father's

glanced upstairs, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of

apple moved, and his emotions sank. "I want

soon as he finished speaking, an

a fresh imprint of five fingers, its deep-set

cold eyes resembled the harshness of winter as he declared, "You are not allowed

mention her? It was because of you that she died. If it weren't for

eyes as his voice turned icy, accusing

the light, almost

to know why! You are my son, a member of the Miller family! So, you should follow my arrangements. Whatever I tell you to

moment, Benson truly felt the irony

out a

and mockery contained in that smile made Rohan's heart skip

at his own palm with a

didn't regret

because he found his own

to please his father, studying hard, practicing the piano diligently,

let himself be

because his father

excellent children.

devoting all his time to playing the

he received was the same

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

didn't lack a single one

death, he

all these years, he never received a single word of concern, nor a greeting. Even when they met, it was distant and perfunctory commands, nothing

won't go," Benson firmly

decision, he turned on his heel and walked up