Rise From Prison: Taking Over the Business Empire

Chapter 9: I Know Your Abilities Best

Hearing this, Anthony took a deep breath and said to Freya Mitchell, "I will give Grandpa this gift. I never had the money to buy him anything before, but now that I do, I want to give him something worthy. This is my final gift to him—my way of thanking him for the years he took care of me."

Freya scoffed, her tone laced with mockery. "Money? The money you have now is the money I gave you! Anthony… saying something like that, don’t you feel even a little ashamed?"

Anthony shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Oh? And you’re certain I used the money you gave me? Funny, because I nearly forgot about it myself. But since you brought it up, let me make this clear—I haven’t touched a single cent of it."

With that, he pulled out the bank card and villa keys Giselle had given him earlier and tossed them onto the ground without even sparing them a glance.

Freya’s expression darkened instantly.

She frowned. "Anthony… don't you think you're being childish?"

The air between them grew thick with tension.

Anthony’s voice was calm as he spoke. "I have never taken advantage of anyone. When I was in the Mitchell family, I did everything you all asked of me. Three years of marriage, followed by three years in prison… that alone should be enough to repay my debt to you."

At his words, Freya felt something stir deep within her, memories threatening to resurface.

But she quickly pushed them aside.

Crossing her arms, she said flatly, "Joanna told me you’re working as a janitor in Crystal Haven now."

She let out a short laugh. "Anthony, you really are something else. You’d rather clean houses than accept the money and villa I gave you. You’re such a strange man."

Anthony chuckled softly. "I told you, I don’t accept handouts. Everything I want, I’ll earn myself—I don’t need to beg for it."

"Enough," Freya waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t have time to listen to this nonsense. If you think the money I gave you wasn’t enough, I can add more. But if you refuse it now, then you won’t get another chance."

Anthony shook his head, his gaze unwavering as he looked at her. "Freya Mitchell, I never worked as a janitor. But even if I had, that would’ve been my choice. And as for your money—I won’t take it."

"I entered the Mitchell family to repay a debt," he continued. "You saved my life once, gave me a meal when I had nothing. I spent six years repaying that kindness…"

With that, he turned and walked into the villa, carrying the gift, leaving Freya standing there in stunned silence.

---

Inside the banquet hall, the room was already filled with guests.

Isaiah Harris sat among the Mitchell family members, basking in their endless flattery.

"Mr. Harris, we’re absolutely honored to have you here tonight!"

"That’s right! Mr. Harris, you’re such a refined gentleman—truly the epitome of a perfect man!"

"If Freya could marry Mr. Harris, it would be the greatest blessing for our entire family!"

The Mitchells' relentless praise made Isaiah feel immensely pleased with himself. With a smug smile, he said, "If the Mitchell family ever needs my assistance, I’d be more than happy to help."

"Hahaha! Excellent, excellent!"

George Mitchell nodded enthusiastically.

At that moment, Kimberly Lane spotted Anthony entering the hall and immediately called out, "Anthony, what are you doing here?"

Preston Mitchell sneered, narrowing his eyes. "Well, well, look who it is—our ex-convict former brother-in-law. The moment you walked in, I swear, the whole atmosphere just turned rotten."

Anthony met their taunts with an indifferent gaze, saying nothing.

Just then, Freya walked in behind him and said, "Enough. Grandpa invited him. Just let him eat and leave."

Turning to Anthony, she added, "Don’t just stand there—find a seat."

The entire Mitchell family agreed that divorcing Anthony had been the best decision Freya could have made.

When compared to Isaiah Harris, Anthony was nothing more than a speck of dust—insignificant, powerless, worthless. He was a man who had nothing and amounted to nothing. How could someone like him ever be worthy of Freya?

Before long, old Mr. Mitchell was helped into the banquet hall by a few family members.

Upon spotting Anthony, the elderly man’s eyes widened with emotion.

"Anthony… you… you’ve come back."

His voice trembled with excitement.

Anthony immediately stood and walked toward him, his own emotions stirring. His eyes reddened as he grasped the old man’s hand.

"Grandpa… I’m back. How has your health been these past few years?"

"Good! Very good!"

Old Mr. Mitchell held onto Anthony’s hands tightly, nodding with relief. "Anthony, I’m so glad you’ve returned! These years must have been hard on you. I… I feel truly sorry for everything you’ve endured."

Anthony smiled gently, helping the old man to his seat. "Grandpa, you have nothing to apologize for. You are the last person who should feel sorry."

"Anthony, you’re still as thoughtful as ever."

The old man patted Anthony’s face affectionately, his expression filled with warmth and kindness.

Preston Mitchell, watching from the side, scoffed in disdain. "What a bootlicker."

He couldn’t understand it—why did Grandpa treat Anthony as if he were his own grandson?

Before long, the family banquet officially began.

Halfway through the meal, George Mitchell turned to Freya and asked, "Freya… how is the negotiation with Horizon Group going? Have their executives shown any willingness to cooperate?"

The entire Mitchell family fell silent, all eyes turning to Freya, their attention fixed on her response.

This was their greatest concern at the moment.

Freya hesitated for a moment before replying, "Don’t worry. We’re making progress. Joanna has already met with Horizon Group’s chairman, and negotiations are underway. I believe we’ll have good news soon."

"Really?"

Just as she finished speaking, Anthony suddenly interjected, "From what I recall, that woman was thrown out by Horizon Group’s chairman. Where exactly is this so-called negotiation taking place?"

He leaned back slightly, his tone casual yet piercing. "But… if you’re really desperate for that project, I could help you."

The entire banquet hall fell into an eerie silence.

Kimberly Lane frowned deeply, her voice cold as she said, "Anthony Jones, I know exactly what you're capable of. What makes you think you could help us? What a ridiculous and idiotic claim!"