THE REJECTED SON-IN-LAW IS A SECRET BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 4: The Cole Estate

Rain hammered the convoy the entire drive north.

The black SUVs tore through the empty highway one after another, headlights cutting through sheets of dirty water while thunder rolled somewhere over the coastline. Inside the lead vehicle, the air smelled faintly of leather, gun oil, and the sour sting of wine still drying on Ethan’s sleeve.

The stain had turned tacky against his wrist.

Sticky.

Cheap.

The smell reminded him of Ryan Parker’s smirk.

Across from him, the lead bodyguard sat rigidly straight despite the long drive. The man hadn’t relaxed once since leaving the hotel.

“Ryan Parker has been secured,” he reported carefully. “His father suffered a cardiac episode after the emergency board meeting.”

Ethan stared out the rain-streaked window.

Streetlights flashed across his face in cold bursts of gold.

“The banks are panicking,” the bodyguard continued. “Several Parker Group directors already resigned to protect themselves.”

Still nothing from Ethan.

“The Bennett family is beginning to lose support too.”

That made Ethan finally look over.

“Don’t touch the Bennett Group.”

The bodyguard hesitated. “Young Master—”

“I said leave them alone.”

Quiet. Flat. Final.

The bodyguard lowered his head immediately. “Understood.”

Silence settled back into the vehicle.

Outside, the city slowly disappeared behind them. Concrete towers faded into forest roads slick with rainwater and mud. The farther north they climbed, the fewer lights remained.

Then the gates appeared.

Massive iron bars emerged through the storm like something built to keep armies out. Armed guards stood beneath black umbrellas near the entrance checkpoint, rifles hanging against their shoulders while floodlights swept slowly across the trees.

The gates groaned open.

The convoy rolled forward.

Ethan watched dark forest slide past his window for nearly another minute before the estate finally appeared through the rain.

The mansion sat high above the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Warm gold light spilled from enormous glass walls while waves crashed violently somewhere below the rocks. Security towers blended into the hillsides so well they were almost invisible unless you knew where to look.

Sophia used to complain about the tiny apartment heater breaking every winter.

Ethan looked away from the window.

The convoy stopped beneath the massive front entrance.

Before the doors even opened, staff members were already waiting outside in the rain. Men in dark suits. Maids standing shoulder to shoulder beneath umbrellas. Security teams lining the steps.

The second Ethan stepped out—

Every head lowered instantly.

“Welcome home, Young Master.”

Their voices rolled together through the storm.

Ethan walked past them without slowing.

The front doors opened before he reached them.

Warm air hit him immediately, carrying the scent of polished wood, expensive candles, and old stone cooled by rain. Black marble stretched endlessly beneath his feet. Somewhere deeper inside the estate, a grandfather clock ticked softly through the silence.

Nobody spoke while Ethan walked.

Not a single servant dared meet his eyes directly.

A middle-aged man hurried down the staircase ahead, adjusting his gloves nervously.

“Young Master.”

Ethan stopped near the bottom step.

The man bowed deeply. “The Old Master has been waiting for your return.”

“Still awake?”

The servant hesitated. “He refused to sleep tonight.”

Ethan gave a tired exhale and loosened the cuff around his wrist. The fabric peeled slightly from his skin.

Sticky.

Uncomfortable.

“Where is he?”

“The west study.”

Ethan moved again without another word.

The estate halls stretched endlessly around him. Dark wood. Massive paintings. Silent security cameras hidden in the corners. The place looked beautiful from the outside, but walking through it always felt like moving through a museum built for dead people.

Or a prison with expensive floors.

As he passed the lower east corridor, Ethan caught sight of the old fencing room through an open doorway.

His jaw tightened slightly.

He remembered bleeding on those floors at thirteen after losing a sparring match to one of his cousins. Augustus had made him stand back up with a fractured wrist because “weak heirs get buried early.”

The Cole family didn’t raise children.

They sharpened them.

Ethan shoved the west wing doors open.

They were heavy. Silent.

Inside, the air was thick—clogged with cigar smoke, whiskey, and the dusty scent of books nobody actually read anymore. Fire crackled low inside the stone fireplace.

Near the flames sat Augustus Cole.

Old now, but still terrifying.

The man’s silver hair was combed neatly back, his cane resting beside the chair like something meant to break bones instead of support weight. Deep scars cut across one of his hands. His eyes remained sharp enough to pin people in place.

Augustus looked up slowly.

Then his gaze landed on the wine stain covering Ethan’s sleeve.

The room changed immediately.

“Who did that to you?”

His voice came out rough with age but hard enough to crack concrete.

Ethan walked toward the liquor cabinet without answering. “It’s handled.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Ethan poured whiskey into a crystal glass. Ice cracked softly.

Behind him—

CRACK.

Augustus slammed the base of his cane against the wooden floor.

“Answer me.”

Ethan took a slow drink before finally speaking.

“Ryan Parker.”

Silence.

The fire snapped softly inside the fireplace.

Augustus leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing into something ugly.

“Alive?”

“For now.”

A slow nod.

“Good.”

The word came out cold enough to make the room feel smaller.

Augustus watched Ethan carefully after that. “You’ve changed.”

“So have you.”

A dry laugh escaped the old man. “No. I just survived longer.”

Ethan remained standing near the fireplace, whiskey hanging loose in one hand while rain battered the windows behind him.

After a while, Augustus spoke again.

“Was she worth disappearing for?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened almost invisibly.

That was enough.

The old man sighed heavily and rubbed one scarred hand across his mouth. “Three years,” he muttered. “You vanished from this family for three years over a woman.”

“I vanished because someone inside this family betrayed me.”

The study went still.

Even the fire suddenly sounded louder.

Augustus slowly lowered his hand. “You’re certain.”

“I was hunted less than an hour after my route changed.” Ethan’s eyes hardened. “Only family knew where I was.”

The old man said nothing for several seconds.

Then he looked toward the fire.

“There’s movement again?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“And Ryan Parker?”

“A puppet.”

That answer seemed to bother Augustus more than anything else tonight.

The old man leaned back deeper into his chair, staring at the flames with an expression that looked carved from stone.

“Then this family is about to bleed.”

Ethan didn’t disagree.

Outside, thunder rolled across the cliffs hard enough to shake the windows slightly.

Then suddenly—

The study doors burst open.

A younger guard stepped inside breathing hard, rainwater still dripping from his shoulders.

“Young Master. Old Master.”

Both men looked toward him.

The guard swallowed once.

“Miss Sophia Bennett is outside the estate gates.”

Ethan’s expression went completely cold.

The guard hesitated before adding carefully,

“She refuses to leave.”