From Prison scapegoat to a Multi-Trillionaire

Chapter 7: Sign some divorce papers, trash

"Yes, Miss Vance," Sarah replied respectfully. "The truck belonged to Apex Logistics. The man who was driving it... his name is Damien. Two years ago, he married into the Kingston family, a mid-tier family that runs a construction and real estate business. High society considers him a running joke. They call him the 'trash son-in-law'."

Elena’s brow furrowed, a flash of deep anger crossing her beautiful features.

"A trash son-in-law? The man I saw yesterday killed two professional assassins with bare hands and a clipboard. He handled a firearm like an elite operator. You're telling me he’s a submissive housewife for a third-rate family?"

"The records are consistent, Miss Vance," Sarah explained, her voice hesitant. "According to the public file, he was recently detained for a hit-and-run accident involving his brother-in-law, Julian Kingston. He was released yesterday morning because the case suddenly fell apart due to missing evidence. The Lin family treats him like an absolute servant. He mops their floors, cooks their meals, and endures public humiliation daily."

Elena turned around slowly, her sharp, intelligent eyes scanning the documents on the table. She picked up a photograph of Damien, taken a few months ago at a Kingston family charity gala. In the photo, he was standing in the background, his head lowered, wearing a cheap, ill-fitting suit while Chloe Kingston stood under the spotlights, smiling for the cameras.

But Elena looked closer. She looked at the eyes of the man in the background. 'No,' she thought, her heart giving a strange, sudden thud. The man in this photo is dead. The man who saved my life in that garage... his eyes were completely different. He was hiding a dragon inside his chest.

"What about his financial records?" Elena asked.

"Completely empty, ma'am," Sarah replied. "He earns a meager wage at Apex Logistics. He has no bank accounts in his name, no property, no assets. He is entirely dependent on the Kingston family for survival. Our team suspects he might be using money all he stole or scraped together to survive day-to-day."

Elena set the photograph down, a fierce, protective determination igniting within her soul. Her own family, her cold-blooded father and her manipulative sister Clara had just tried to have her murdered in the dark. The only person who had stood between her and a bullet was this mysterious, bruised man from the slums.

"Sarah," Elena commanded, her voice ringing with absolute authority. "Keep our security detail stationed at Apex Logistics. Ensure his manager doesn't make his life difficult. Do not approach him openly yet. He clearly wants to keep a low profile, and I will respect his privacy. But I want a daily report on everything he does."

She walked back to the window, her gaze drifting toward the distant, dusty district where Apex Logistics was located. A soft, breathless smile touched her lips.

"You saved my life, Damien," she whispered against the glass. "Your family treats you like trash, and society thinks you're a criminal. But I see you. And I won't stop until I find out who you really are."

..

The evening air inside the Kingston villa was thick.

When Damien stepped through the front doors at 7:00 PM, he wasn't met with the usual chaotic screaming of Valerie or the smug remarks of Julian. Instead, the grand living room was brightly lit, and sitting on the glass coffee table was a thick, white document.

Chloe Kingston was sitting on the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had changed into an elegant black evening dress, her face an unreadable, cold mask. Standing behind her like two vultures were Valerie and Julian, their faces twisted into expressions of smug satisfaction.

"Sit down, Damien," Chloe said, her voice dropping into a chilly, formal tone that she usually reserved for fired employees at her company.

Damien didn't sit. He stood at the edge of the living room, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans, his dark eyes surveying the scene with absolute indifference. "I prefer to stand. What is this?"

Valerie stepped forward, slapping her hand against the document on the table. "It’s exactly what you asked for last night, you arrogant bastard! A divorce agreement! Chloe has officially decided to sever ties with a dirty, thieving criminal like you!"

"Mom, let me speak," Chloe interrupted, her voice cutting through her mother’s screech. She looked up at Damien, her sharp eyes searching his face for any sign of regret, panic, or sorrow. She expected him to break down.

For two years, this man had worshiped the ground she walked on. Surely, his defiance last night was just a pathetic, desperate attempt to get her attention.

"Damien, I am giving you one last chance to be reasonable," Chloe said, leaning back against the sofa. "The Kingston family is on the verge of securing a massive partnership with the Vance Group. Julian’s future is secure, and my company is about to expand globally. We cannot have a husband who is associated with prison brawls, stolen money, and warehouse filth ruining our reputation."

She pointed to the document. "Sign the papers. I have been generous. Because you served our family for two years, I am awarding you a payout of fifty thousand dollars. It’s more money than you will ever see in your entire life as a delivery clerk. Take the money, pack your rags, and leave this city forever."

Julian smirked, stepping forward to lean against the arm of the couch. "Yeah, trash. Take the fifty grand and go buy yourself a nice shack in the slums. And make sure you buy a phone that actually belongs to you this time instead of robbing people."

Damien looked at the divorce papers. Then, a soft, low chuckle escaped his throat, a sound so rich, so full of genuine amusement that it made the three Kingstons freeze in sheer bewilderment.

He walked forward, his steps slow and deliberate. He picked up the heavy gold pen sitting beside the document.

"Fifty thousand dollars," Damien murmured, swirling the pen between his long, elegant fingers. He looked at Chloe, his eyes dripping with a cold, profound pity that made her blood run cold.

"Chloe, you truly believe your petty wealth is the center of the universe, don't you?"