A SON IN LAW TURNS BILLIONAIRE AFTER DIVORCE

Chapter 33

After a relaxed breakfast, Leonard drove his sleek truck to an elite import dealership on the commercial strip, with Yvonne sitting in the passenger seat.

The moment they walked through the glass doors, the staff treated them like royalty. The general manager personally brought out espresso while sales associates practically scrambled to pull up keys. Less than forty minutes later, Leonard picked out a stunning, high-performance luxury sports coupe valued at a little over seventy thousand dollars—and had the title registered directly in Yvonne’s name on the spot.

Yvonne was completely over the moon.

The second the ink dried on the registration forms, she threw her slender arms around his neck and kissed him again and again right in front of the showroom staff, her eyes sparkling, barely able to contain her explosive excitement.

Then, Leonard bought something for himself.

He walked straight over to the heavy-duty utility section and pointed to a massive, pitch-black Mercedes-AMG G 63 4x4².

The base cost of the heavy SUV alone came out to a little over three hundred thousand dollars.

The custom modifications, however, were going to cost nearly twice that amount.

Leonard sat down in the manager's private office and laid out a set of very specific, non-negotiable technical requirements. The factory windows had to be completely replaced with military-grade ballistic glass. The tires had to be swapped for heavy reinforced run-flats capable of driving over spike strips. The entire body frame, undercarriage, engine cooling system, and cabin air filtration needed extensive heavy-duty armor and sealing upgrades.

Most importantly, the exterior shell had to be structurally fortified to withstand extreme physical impacts—including crushing, tennis-ball-sized hailstones.

Because Leonard fully intended to drive outside during the initial weeks of the apocalyptic freeze.

Why take such an extreme risk?

Fuel.

Gasoline and diesel weren't items he could simply order by the commercial tanker-load right now, no matter how many hundreds of millions sat in his bank accounts. A private individual suddenly purchasing thousands of gallons of volatile fuel would immediately flag local authorities and law enforcement.

Once civilization collapsed and the municipal power grid failed, however, legal oversight would cease to exist. Abandoned gas stations, stranded highway tanker trucks, corporate fuel depots, and municipal storage yards would be sitting in the frozen dark, waiting to be siphoned and claimed.

That was precisely why his vehicle’s structural durability, environmental sealing, and extreme off-road capability mattered so much.

Of course, a custom modification job this extensive couldn't be completed overnight. The master mechanic estimated it would take a little over a month before the armored machine was fully prepped and ready for pickup.

While Leonard quietly went over the mechanical blueprints with the specialist, Yvonne happily wandered around the showroom floor, snapping photos and admiring her new sports car. She didn't notice a single odd detail about Leonard's heavy vehicle specifications.

The young saleswoman assigned to file their paperwork, however, was practically turning green with envy.

A seventy-thousand-dollar sports car. Just like that. No hesitation, no financing, no strings attached.

She couldn't stop casting subtle, lingering looks toward Leonard, her eyes practically straining to throw flirtatious signals his way. Daddy... are you looking for another girlfriend?

Unfortunately for her, compared to Yvonne, she wasn't quite pretty enough—and the contrast in their figures was far too obvious.

Leonard acted as though he hadn't noticed a single glance.

Once all the dealership paperwork was finalized, he and Yvonne went their separate ways.

Leonard still had a mountain of vital survival supplies to acquire, and his master spreadsheet was endless.

Firewood, for example.

During the first few days of the global freeze, outdoor temperatures would drop to around ten degrees below zero Fahrenheit. That initial drop alone wasn't impossible to deal with; as long as the municipal power grid held, central heating could easily keep a well-built home at a comfortable seventy degrees.

The catastrophic problem was that the city power grid would permanently fail on the fourth day.

And once the electricity vanished, what good were electric heaters and digital thermostats?

That was exactly why Leonard had insisted on installing multiple heavy-duty, wood-burning fireplaces into the structural overhaul of his Maple Grove shelter.

Firewood was completely different from restricted fuels like gasoline or diesel. Nobody cared if a wealthy homeowner ordered several massive flatbed trucks loaded with dense hardwood logs. As long as you had the cash, you could buy hundreds of cords of wood without drawing a second look from local authorities.

Then, there was water.

In an apocalypse, clean drinking water would become infinitely more precious than gold or food. Once environmental disasters hit, how many uncontaminated water sources would remain besides factory-sealed bottled water?

Virtually none.

Technically, melted ice or contaminated groundwater could be distilled. But distillation was painfully slow, wildly inefficient, and required immense heat energy. Once both municipal gas and electricity were gone forever, what were starving survivors supposed to burn just to boil a cup of water? Their own living room furniture?

Drinking water was one of Leonard's absolute highest-priority stockpiles. Besides filling the massive ten-thousand-gallon subterranean storage tanks installed beneath his estate, he placed massive bulk orders with several regional bottled-water distributors, having entire semi-trucks of boxed mineral water delivered directly to his private leased warehouse.

Water was cheap right now. There was zero reason not to hoard enough to last multiple lifetimes.

By the time Leonard finally finished supervising his daily supply logistics, it was past nine o'clock at night. He returned to his rented apartment completely exhausted, showered, and collapsed onto his bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He was sleeping soundly when a loud, frantic pounding on his front door violently dragged him awake.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Leonard opened his eyes, squinting at the glowing digital clock on his nightstand.

2:03 AM

He sat up, his brow furrowing. Who the hell was hammering on his door at two in the morning?

Mrs. Park?

Unlikely. By late afternoon, Leonard had already heard the hilarious neighborhood update: she and her husband were currently recovering in adjacent hospital beds, while their frantic son and daughter-in-law ran around taking care of their massive medical bills.

Susan?

Even less likely. After the humiliating scene in his hallway yesterday morning, she was probably lying awake somewhere frantically researching plastic surgeons, debating which expensive procedures could turn her into a supermodel overnight.

Leonard pulled on a dark silk robe, tied the belt around his waist, and walked quietly through the living room.

He leaned in and looked through the optical peephole.

His eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.

Standing out in the dimly lit corridor was the last person he expected to see at this hour.

Sara Linus.

The attractive, fashionably dressed young woman who lived down the hall—the one who owned the golden Labrador puppy named Duke.

What was she doing at his door at two in the morning?

They barely knew each other. They had only exchanged a few polite nods in the hallway, and the last time they spoke, she had teasingly called him "Big Money Leonard."

Leonard unlocked the latch and opened the door.

Sara stood on the threshold wearing nothing but a thin, oversized knit sweater and a pair of tiny shorts. Her long dark hair was slightly messy, as though she had rushed out of bed without bothering to brush it. Normally, she carried an easy, striking kind of beauty, but tonight her face was pale, her lips were trembling, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

She looked fragile. Almost terrified.

In her arms, she was awkwardly cradling her growing Labrador pup, Duke, despite his size. The moment the dog saw Leonard, his tail gave a very weak, pathetic wag.

"Hi... Big Money Leonard..."

Sara had barely choked the words out when her eyes dropped down to what Leonard was wearing. Noticing his dark silk robe and bare chest underneath, a quick blush spread across her pale cheeks.

Without waiting for a formal invitation, she quickly pushed past him into the warmth of the apartment, using her hip to shut the heavy door behind herself. Apparently, she didn't want any late-night neighbors spotting her standing outside a single billionaire's apartment in her nightwear.

Leonard stepped back, folding his arms as he gave her an unbothered, amused look.

"What happened, Sara?"

Sara hesitated, clutching the heavy dog tighter against her chest as her bottom lip quivered.

"Could... could you please lend me some money?"

Even vocalizing the question seemed to deeply humiliate her. She lowered her head, her eyes staring blankly at the floor.

Leonard's expression didn't change. "How much?"

Her fingers nervously twisted together against the dog's fur. After several agonizing seconds of heavy silence, she finally whispered, "A hundred thousand dollars."

Leonard stared at her in absolute silence.

A hundred grand?

That was one hell of a first favor to ask a neighbor.

They weren't close friends. They weren't even regular acquaintances. They had exchanged perhaps twenty words total in elevators and hallways, and now she was standing in his living room at two in the morning asking for six figures in cash.

Did she honestly think he had "SUCKER" stamped across his forehead in bold letters?

Leonard neither agreed nor immediately refused. Instead, he asked calmly, "What happened?"

He already had a vague, dark suspicion in the back of his mind.

Sara looked down at the whimpering dog in her arms, her restraint completely crumbling as tears began spilling down her cheeks.

"Duke is really sick," she sobbed, her voice cracking hysterically. "He's bleeding internally! I just rushed him to the emergency animal hospital, and they said he needs immediate, complex surgery and intensive care. They said it's going to cost almost a hundred thousand dollars! They said..." She choked on her breath. "They said he's going to die if he doesn't get the surgery right now!"

Leonard looked down at the Labrador lying awkwardly in her arms.

The dog did look terribly weak, but something about her story immediately felt off.

During his past military service before his rebirth, Leonard had spent extensive time around tactical working dogs. He knew exactly what physical trauma looked like.

Duke’s breathing was shallow, rapid, and strained. Every few seconds, the pup subtly shifted his weight, whimpering as though one side of his torso hurt too badly to rest on. Beneath the thinner fur along his belly and lower ribcage were dark, purple patches of severe subcutaneous bruising, along with a distinct, ugly swelling near his lower ribs.

Leonard crouched down on one knee.

When he lightly extended two fingers and brushed them against Duke’s lower ribs, the Labrador flinched violently, letting out a sharp, painful whimper.

Leonard's eyes narrowed, his expression turning cold.

This wasn't an internal illness or a sudden medical condition.

Someone had brutally beaten this dog.

Leonard slowly stood back up to his full height, looking Sara dead in the eye.

"Why aren't you asking your parents for a loan?" Leonard asked evenly. "Or your close friends?"

Sara frantically shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm an orphan! I don't have parents! And none of my friends have that kind of crazy money sitting around!"

Leonard said absolutely nothing.

Liar.

When he had gone through the building's official resident registry with the property manager a few days ago after the package theft, he had casually flipped past Sara Linus's emergency contact file. He remembered details effortlessly. Both of her biological parents were clearly listed as living, residing in an upscale suburb just thirty minutes away.

Sara took an eager step forward, reaching out with trembling hands to grab his forearm.

"Leonard, please!" she begged, her voice pitching up. "I know a hundred thousand dollars sounds like an insane amount of money to normal people, but it's nothing to someone like you! It's pocket change!"

Leonard glanced down at her slender fingers clutching his arm.

Sara tightened her grip, pressing her advantage. "You just spent hundreds of thousands of dollars buying luxury cars yesterday! I know you're a billionaire! You wouldn't even notice a hundred thousand dollars missing from your bank account!"

Leonard remained completely silent, watching her face.

Her tone became increasingly urgent, almost frantic. "But Duke is everything to me, Leonard! He's my family! I can't just stand there and watch him bleed to death!"

Tears poured down her cheeks again, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Leonard. I'm begging you on my knees."

Leonard looked past her shoulder at Duke, who had slumped quietly onto the rug, watching them with heavy, pained eyes.

He felt genuine pity for the innocent animal. But feeling sympathy for a beaten dog was an entirely separate matter from trusting the manipulative woman standing in his living room.

Sara seemed to grow intensely frustrated by his unyielding, silent stare.

"Why aren't you saying anything?!" she snapped, her hands trembling against his sleeve.

Leonard looked back into her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Sara?"

"I want you to help him! I want you to save him!"

"I heard you."

"Then why the hell are you hesitating?!" Her voice rose sharply, a edge of hysterical entitlement bleeding through her tears. "You have so much damn money! A hundred thousand dollars means literally nothing to you, but it saves his life!"

Leonard still said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Sara took his cold silence as a personal insult. Her eyes flashed with bitter anger. "How can you be so damn cold-hearted?! Look at him! He's suffering right in front of your eyes, and you're standing there worrying about money?!"

Leonard raised a single eyebrow, his lips curving into a subtle, dangerous line.

"So... you're saying we should do absolutely whatever it takes to save Duke?"

Sara nodded furiously, wiping her face with her shoulder. "YES!"

"Anything at all?"

"OF COURSE!" Her answer came without a single second of hesitation, her voice ringing out in the quiet apartment. "I'll do whatever it takes! He's my family!"

Leonard looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on her flushed face and trembling lips.

"Whatever it takes, huh?"

"Yes! Anything!"

He glanced down at her hand, which was still tightly gripping his silk robe. Then, his dark eyes moved slowly, deliberately back up to her face.

A faint, unreadable smile appeared on his lips.

"Alright, then."

Sara's eyes lit up with sudden, blinding hope. "Leonard! Does that mean you'll give me the money?!"

Leonard stepped half a pace closer, leaning down slightly until his voice was a low, smooth whisper right beside her ear.

"Give yourself to me."