Rise From Prison: Taking Over the Business Empire

Chapter 2: My Company—Horizon Group

Mitchell Family Villa

"Wow, Freya, you’re incredible! You actually got that loser to sign the divorce papers so easily?"

The moment Freya Mitchell stepped into the Mitchell family villa, she was immediately surrounded by her relatives. Preston Mitchell, her younger brother, caught sight of the divorce agreement in her hand and nearly leaped with joy. His voice brimmed with excitement as he exclaimed,

"I thought that trash would resist, clinging to us like a leech. At least he had the sense to back off. Otherwise, I would’ve had someone break his legs!"

At that moment, Preston Mitchell perfectly embodied the very definition of ungratefulness—completely forgetting that three years ago, he had knelt before Anthony Jones, sobbing and begging him to take the fall for his crime.

Freya’s brows furrowed in displeasure. "Preston, that’s enough. No matter what, Anthony is still your benefactor."

Preston scoffed, rolling his eyes. "If you say so. As long as we got rid of him, that’s all that matters."

Beside them, a middle-aged woman adorned in gold jewelry and exuding an air of wealth—Kimberly Lane, Freya's mother—narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Freya, that convict agreed to the divorce so easily… Did he extort anything from you before he left?"

Freya replied calmly, "I gave him a bank card with $10 million and transferred Silverwood Manor to his name. It’s compensation for the three years he spent in prison for us."

"What?!"

The room erupted into chaos.

Preston jumped up, eyes bulging in disbelief. "Sis, are you insane? That’s $20 million in cash and property! Even I don’t have $20 million in my account, and yet a worthless live-in son-in-law gets that just for rotting in prison for three years? Since when does the world work like that?"

Kimberly’s chest heaved with rage. "Freya, have you lost your mind? That piece of trash isn’t even worth $20 million if you sold him for parts!"

At that moment, George Mitchell, Freya’s uncle, spoke in a low, authoritative voice. "Freya, that villa is Mitchell Family property. Who gave you the right to hand it over to Anthony Jones? I won’t allow it!"

The uproar continued, with various family members voicing their objections, demanding that they reclaim the money and the house from Anthony.

Freya’s expression darkened.

Three years.

Anthony had gone to prison for her brother, sacrificing his freedom for their family.

And yet, not a single one of them felt even an ounce of gratitude toward him.

"Enough!"

Her sharp voice silenced the room instantly.

"Anyone in the world can call him a criminal—but not us."

Her gaze swept coldly across her family, her tone carrying an undeniable authority.

"And besides, he was my husband. If I choose to give him $20 million in the divorce, is that not my decision to make?"

For the past three years, the Mitchell Family had risen from a small business to its current prominence—all thanks to Freya Mitchell.

Now, with her commanding presence, she instantly suppressed any further objections.

Even George Mitchell and Kimberly Lane, furious as they were, dared not push any further.

Sensing the tension, Kimberly forced a smile, attempting to smooth things over.

"Alright, alright, dear. Don’t be mad. If you say so, we won’t bring it up again."

Freya exhaled, feeling drained.

"You all can continue your discussion. I have an appointment with Isaiah Harris this afternoon. I need to freshen up."

With that, she turned and headed upstairs.

Hearing Isaiah Harris’s name, the Mitchells’ expressions instantly shifted from frustration to delight.

"Freya, dear, make sure to look your absolute best! You have to charm Mr. Harris!" Kimberly beamed, practically glowing with anticipation. "I’ve been dreaming of your wedding with him!"

Preston grinned. "That’s right, Sis! Now that you’ve finally gotten rid of that loser, you should marry Isaiah Harris as soon as possible! I can’t wait to call him brother-in-law."

Freya ignored them, disappearing into her room.

The moment her door shut, the cheerful atmosphere vanished, replaced by cold, calculating expressions.

Kimberly clenched her teeth. "That worthless bastard Anthony—why should he walk away with $20 million of our assets?"

Preston immediately chimed in, "Exactly, Mom! We can’t just let Anthony Jones get away with this. He wasted my sister’s youth for years—spending three years in prison was already a bargain for him. We need to get that money back!"

George Mitchell rose to his feet, his expression dark. "Then let’s go find him and take back what’s ours. Once we retrieve it, we’ll split the money amongst ourselves."

Preston’s eyes gleamed with greed. "Good idea, Uncle! I’ll take Silverwood Manor for myself, and the cash is yours to divide!"

Kimberly glanced toward Freya’s room, lowering her voice.

"But we have to do this quietly. If Freya finds out, it’ll only cause trouble."

Meanwhile, outside the prison gates, Anthony finally calmed after standing in silence for a long time.

Freya, my debt to you is repaid. From now on, we are nothing to each other.

A chilling light flickered in his eyes.

Now, it’s time to avenge the twenty-four lives of the Jones Family.

His gaze turned sharp and murderous.

Taking out his phone, he dialed a number—one his enigmatic master had given him before vanishing.

The call was answered instantly.

Before Anthony could speak, a voice—clear and feminine, brimming with excitement—came through.

"Master, is it really you? Have you finally been released? I have waited for this call for an entire year, just as the Old Master instructed!"

A woman’s voice?

And… Master?

Anthony frowned. What the hell was that old man up to?

"Who are you?" he asked instinctively.

The woman immediately responded, "My name is Caroline Hill. I am the CEO of Horizon Group—and your humble servant."

"Horizon Group?"

Caroline’s voice remained respectful.

"Yes. Three years ago, the Old Master founded Horizon Group specifically for you. I have been managing it in your absence, but the position of Chairman has remained vacant, awaiting your return."

"In anticipation of your release, Horizon Group recently expanded its investments into Silverhaven City."

Anthony almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Freya Mitchell had divorced him, believing it essential to secure a partnership with Horizon Group.

Yet in the end, he was Horizon Group’s rightful Chairman.

And the only reason Horizon Group had invested in Silverhaven City… was to welcome him home.

He remained silent for a long moment.

Sensing his hesitation, Caroline spoke carefully, "Master… are you still near the prison? Shall I come to pick you up?"

"No need," Anthony replied. "Just send me the address of Horizon Group’s headquarters in Silverhaven City. I’ll come to you."

Caroline immediately provided the address. "I will wait at the entrance for your arrival."

"No need for that either," Anthony said flatly. "Wait for me in your office. I don’t like too much attention."

With that, he ended the call.

Instead of taking a taxi, he rented a shared bicycle, pedaling leisurely toward Horizon Group's headquarters.

After three years behind bars, he wanted to take his time, to observe how the city had changed.

An hour later, as Anthony arrived at the towering Horizon Group Building, the sudden roar of an engine made him pause.

A sleek, Ferrari screeched to a halt just inches from him—so close it nearly hit him.

Anthony frowned.

The car door opened, and a young man with slicked-back hair and an arrogant smirk stepped out, removing his sunglasses.

Isaiah Harris.

He sneered at Anthony.

"Fuck, where the hell did this broke-ass loser come from? Riding a shared bike in front of Horizon Group? You must be out of your damn mind."

Anthony ignored him.

His gaze was locked onto the woman stepping out of the passenger seat.

His ex-wife—Freya Mitchell.