The Fake Son Is A Billionaire Young Master by Morningale

Chapter 27 They 've crossed troo many lines

They've crossed too many lines Edward shifted, a grin on his face. "Oh really, Jeff? And what makes you think 1 played the song I wrote, wrong? I seem to recall that you are not even able to play the piano." Edward still didn't know that his fake brother had been deceiving them all these years. To him, Jeff remained the same stupid kid he had lived with.

There was an uproar among the guests, each guest questioning if Jeff was right or wrong.

With her brows knitted and her lips curled into a snarl, Rachael's face twisted into a mask of fury. "What an

ungrateful boy! What do you think are doing? arriving without warning and now asserting to know whether something is amiss." Jeff casually replied, "I know what is wrong, and what is wrong is that your angelic son played the last note wrong." "Why are you doing this?" Jeff said, "Because you must regret it with a hint of humor mixed in with the coldness.

His gaze met Rachael's as a vortex swirled inside of him.

When Rachael realized what he had said, she recoiled, her eyes glimmering,

with rage. N— Jeff turned to face Edward. "I know how it is supposed to sound because I wrote that composition," Jeff said.

last note was off." Anger slowly seeping into Edward's pores, his face flushed red. "You wrote it? You are not even familiar with music! Brother, please don't ruin Grandmother's birthday. You've done enough!" Jeff laughed,

ears of the guests. As they watched Jeff perform, they all widened their eyes in

something special about it, even though Edward had already performed

someone who would bluff about writing a song. He was gorgeous and exuded a hint of coldness,

Grandmother

I have played it right. Did you see where the mistake was?" "You have no proof that you wrote it!" Edward shot back, and something in him

tension reached its peak, Professor Paul, stepped

a playful tone, Jeff interrupted right away and said, "Professor, Edward stole my composition. He played it as his own, word for word. I worked so

when he first heard it, but it was not until later that

a young boy, he was a

Zombie Institute's dean nor a professor

years ago. He saw deep sadness in the

how he knew about Vero island, the little