A SON IN LAW TURNS BILLIONAIRE AFTER DIVORCE

Chapter 25

James’s renovations were moving forward at a blistering pace.

Every single day, Leonard made it a point to drive over to the estate in person, inspect the thick reinforced concrete, review the subterranean bunker seals, and give James explicit instructions on custom security modifications. Watching his impenetrable survival shelter gradually take shape before his very eyes brought a deep, satisfying warmth to Leonard's chest.

At least here, in this fortress, he would be ready for the end of the world.

For now, though, construction noise made the mansion unlivable, so he still had to return to his rented apartment in Maple Grove every evening.

That afternoon, Leonard was carrying several large and small delivery packages up the walkway to his apartment, planning to stash the high-grade survival gear into his dimensional ring space, when he nearly collided with a woman coming around the corner.

“Whoa!” Leonard stepped back quickly, balancing the heavy boxes in his arms.

The woman straightened up, brushing her styled hair over her shoulder. Leonard recognized her immediately—she lived on the same floor a few doors down with her husband. Her name was Sara.

Sara was dressed in an eye-catching, fashionable outfit that hugged her curves, holding a leash attached to a playful golden Labrador puppy named Duke. Duke was still just a pup, but he was extraordinarily well-behaved. The second the dog saw Leonard, his tail started thumping excitedly against the floor.

Leonard and Sara had never really exchanged more than a polite nod before, but since Sara walked Duke through the courtyard every day, Leonard knew who she was.

“Oh!” Sara blurted out, her eyes lighting up the second she looked at his face. “Big Money Leonard!”

Big Money Leonard?

Leonard paused in his tracks, staring at her. He already had a neighborhood nickname?

He couldn’t help letting out a short, amused laugh. “Well... I guess I am Leonard.”

Sara covered her glossy lips with a manicured hand and giggled. With a figure as dramatic as hers, even that small, playful movement made her sway enough to draw any man's attention.

She cleared her throat, her eyes scanning him up and down. “Hi, I’m Sara. I’m so sorry about almost bumping into you! I guess Duke got a little too excited.”

As she spoke, Sara leaned in slightly, giving Leonard a lingering, flirtatious look beneath her dark eyelashes.

Leonard simply pretended not to notice the subtle invitation. “No problem at all, Sara.”

He crouched down with one hand, casually petting Duke behind the ears. Duke instantly went wild with joy, rolling onto his side and wagging his tail nonstop.

After exchanging a few polite, empty pleasantries, Leonard picked his packages back up and turned toward the stairs. “Have a good walk, Sara.”

“You too, Leonard!” Sara called out softly, watching him leave.

As Leonard turned the corner, Duke trotted back to Sara’s side. But just as Leonard glanced back over his shoulder, he noticed something strange.

Duke’s tail, which had been wagging happily just two seconds ago, suddenly dropped flat. The puppy whimpered softly, tucked his tail tightly between his legs, and shrank away from Sara as if he were terrified of her.

Leonard’s brows knit together for a fraction of a second. Strange.

He didn’t dwell on it, though. Shrugging it off, he returned to his apartment floor and quickly pushed the odd detail out of his mind.

He crossed the open-air walkway, unlocked his front door, and carried the heavy packages inside, setting them down on the living room table. He pulled out a box cutter, eager to inspect his latest delivery before transferring the gear into his frozen dimensional space.

But as he checked off the items against his master spreadsheet, his hands stopped.

Something was missing. A heavy box containing a dozen industrial, high-capacity solar power banks was nowhere to be found.

Leonard pulled out his phone, opened his delivery app, and checked the tracking details. The app clearly showed a green checkmark: Delivered at 5:07 PM - Left at Front Door. There was even a photo attached showing the box sitting right beside his doorkat.

Leonard walked back outside, scanning the empty walkway around his door. Nothing.

His face darkened into a frown. This was already the second time.

A box of specialized thermal socks and tactical gloves had gone missing a few days ago as well, but Leonard had been so buried in stock market trades that he hadn't bothered to investigate a fifty-dollar loss.

But now? Power banks were vital for the freeze.

Had some petty thief in the building actually started stealing his packages?

It wasn't paranoia. News of his sudden four-hundred-million-dollar lottery jackpot had exploded across the entire neighborhood. These days, delivery trucks were stopping outside his building daily, dropping off piles of packages at his doorstep. It was impossible not to notice.

The stolen power banks themselves weren't going to break his bank, but if this petty stealing kept happening, it would disrupt his strict stockpiling timeline.

Leonard locked his door and walked straight down to the building's property management office.

“Mr. Leonard! What can we do for you today?” the head property manager asked, practically jumping out of his chair to greet him.

Leonard explained the situation calmly. The manager didn't hesitate for a second, immediately pulling up the high-definition security camera footage covering the 15th-floor walkway.

Sure enough, at precisely 5:07 PM, the delivery driver placed the package by Leonard's door, took a snap on his phone, and walked away.

Less than three minutes later, the door to Apartment 102 creaked open. A heavy-set ten-year-old boy stepped out into the hallway, bouncing a rubber ball. He played around for a moment until his eyes landed on the cardboard box sitting outside Leonard's threshold.

The boy stopped. He stared at the package, looked left, looked right down the empty corridor, and then, with practiced speed, snatched the box up with both hands and sprinted right back into Apartment 102, slamming his door shut.

Mystery solved.

“Unbelievable!” the manager grunted, his face turning red with embarrassment. “Don't worry, Mr. Leonard! I’ll come with you personally right now to get your property back!”

After all, Leonard was no ordinary tenant anymore. He had purchased the estate mansion and held a fortune in the bank. Naturally, people were eager to stay on his good side.

A few minutes later, Leonard and the property manager stood outside Apartment 102. The manager knocked firmly on the door.

“Who the hell is it?!” an impatient, raspy voice shouted from inside.

“Property management! Mrs. Park, please open the door. We need to speak with you regarding a serious matter.”

Footsteps shuffled inside, and the door swung open.

To Leonard’s surprise, standing on the threshold was Mrs. Park—an elderly woman from the neighborhood.

The property manager put on a professional smile. “Mrs. Park, your grandson—Jason, right?—he took a delivered package from outside Mr. Leonard’s door in 1502 a little while ago. We need him to return it.”

“BULLSHIT!” Mrs. Park instantly shrieked, her face twisting into a furious, ugly scowl.

She looked entirely different from the cheerful, sweet old lady who had been standing out by the mailboxes laughing at the Miller family’s downfall two days ago. But then again, back then, the drama was happening to someone else. Now that her own precious family was being accused, her true colors flared up like a viper.

Mrs. Park jabbed her finger into the manager's chest, her voice rising so loud it echoed down the entire hallway.

“Which one of your blind eyes saw my sweet grandson steal anything?! Jason is an angel! A golden child! There is no damn way he would ever touch someone else’s package! I’m warning you right now, don't you dare come to my door throwing fake accusations at my family, or I’ll come down and wreck your management office!”

The manager kept his composure, pulling out his smartphone. “Mrs. Park, we aren't falsely accusing anyone. We have clear, high-definition security footage. Look right here—”

He turned the screen toward her face, playing the clip of her grandson snatching the box.

“Get that damn thing out of my face!” Mrs. Park didn't even look at the screen. She aggressively swiped her hand, shoving the manager's phone away so hard it nearly hit the floor.

“Now get the hell away from my door and stop interrupting our family dinner!” she yelled, her spit flying through the air. “Otherwise, I’m calling the cops and reporting both of you for harassment and trespassing!”

BANG!

She slammed the heavy metal door shut so hard the hallway walls shook.

From inside, Leonard could hear her husband, Mr. Park, asking in a quiet voice, “What was all that screaming about?”

Instead of explaining, Mrs. Park turned her rage onto her husband, her muffled voice booming through the thin door. “It’s because you’re a spineless, useless coward! That’s why! That’s why everyone in this building thinks they can walk all over us and bully our grandson!”

Out in the hallway, the property manager’s face turned thoroughly dark.

Her grandson had blatantly stolen property on camera, the proof was right in front of her nose, and she was still acting this vicious and arrogant? Unbelievable.

The manager turned to Leonard, looking deeply apologetic. “Mr. Leonard, I am so sorry about this. Please give us a day. We will keep pressing the family and force them to compensate you for the stolen items.”

Leonard looked at the locked door of Apartment 102, his expression unreadable. He knew how this went. Property management had no real authority to search a home, and the police wouldn't waste time arresting a ten-year-old over a box of power banks. Mrs. Park knew that, which was why she felt completely invincible.

“Fine,” Leonard said softly. “I’ll leave it to you for now.”

He turned around and walked back to his apartment.

Once he was inside, he locked his door, leaned against the counter, and began to think.

Relying on property management to handle a shameless, entitled family like the Parks was a complete waste of time. People like Mrs. Park only understood one language: painful, direct consequences.

If he wanted his packages—and his peace of mind—he would have to handle this little rat himself.

A sharp, dark smirk slowly spread across Leonard’s lips.

He pulled out his phone, opened a food delivery app, and searched for a very specific, ultra-luxury seafood restaurant in the city center. He selected their most expensive signature delicacy—a rare, imported king crab feast cooked in rich, aromatic spices, costing nearly twelve hundred dollars.

He placed the order, typing special instructions into the delivery notes: Please leave the package clearly visible on the doormat outside Apartment 1502. Do not knock.

Leonard put his phone back in his pocket and chuckled softly to himself.

The cheese was set on the mousetrap.

Now, all he had to do was sit back and wait for the greedy little mouse to take the bait.