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!"
around fifty years
care, even his handsome eyebrows and eyes appeared to be
had
I'm going
who, after all these years, had grown taller than him by almost a
become
of redness in his eyes. He suppressed his emotions, trying to meet his father's gaze with a calm look. "I'm going too? I
command and glanced upstairs, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of
emotions sank. "I want to stay here with
finished speaking, an unexpected backhand
fresh imprint of five fingers, its deep-set
turned frosty. His cold eyes resembled the harshness of winter as he declared, "You are not allowed to mention
not allowed to mention her? It was because of you that she died. If it weren't for
turned icy, accusing his father
resentful towards him about this matter, Rohan's figure trembled under the light, almost losing his balance
member of the Miller family! So, you should follow my arrangements. Whatever I tell you to
truly felt the irony of
let out a
contained in that smile made Rohan's
at his own palm with a determined
didn't regret
he found his own foolishness
on eggshells to please his father, studying hard, practicing
to let himself be hindered
because his father
excellent children.
devoting all his time
was the
him, the esteemed Rohan, the head of the Miller family, had
didn't lack a single one like
death, he wandered alone for
these years, he never received a single word of concern, nor a greeting. Even
go," Benson
he turned on his
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