The Discarded Son-in-Law Is a Billionaire Heir

Chapter 3

Mrs. Brighton burst into shrill laughter, shattering the tense silence.

"Custody? Are you insane, you homeless beggar? You want the sick baby? Take her! We don't want her. But don't you dare ask for a single penny of Brighton money, property, or assets when you crawl out of here!"

Zade didn't flinch. A cold smile touched his lips.

"I don't want your money, your house, or your assets," he replied. "I waive every right to your wealth. All I want from the Brighton family is my daughter."

Binta stared at him in disbelief. She had expected him to beg, perhaps plead for another chance, as he always had.

Instead, the man who once clung to her for affection was willingly walking away, asking for nothing but the child she despised.

Then greed replaced her confusion.

Snatching a pen from the bedside table, she dragged the document toward herself and scrawled her signature across the designated line.

"Sign as the witness, Mom," she ordered, thrusting the paper at her mother. "Before this idiot changes his mind!"

Mrs. Brighton grabbed the pen and signed with equal enthusiasm.

"Gladly! This is the happiest day of my life. Who would have thought we could get rid of you and that wretched child in one afternoon?"

She shoved the papers toward Zade.

"Take your trash and get out! If I ever see your ugly, broke face near our home again, I'll have the security guards beat you until you can't walk!"

Zade ignored the insult.

He examined the documents, checking that every signature was in place and the terms of their agreement were properly recorded.

His divorce was settled, and the custody agreement granted him sole legal custody of Jemima, subject to the applicable legal formalities.

He folded the papers and slipped them inside his jacket.

For the first time in his life, he had nothing left to prove to these women.

Gathering Jemima securely against his chest, Zade turned and walked out of the delivery room without another word. He didn't bother looking back at the people who had made his previous life a living hell.

The hospital corridor stretched before him, bright and sterile.

In his past life, he had walked these same halls with a broken heart, desperate for scraps of affection.

But now?

Now, every step carried him farther from that miserable existence.

He pushed through the glass entrance doors, and the afternoon sunlight washed over his face.

Jemima stirred beneath her soft blanket, releasing a tiny sigh before settling against his chest.

Zade looked down at her, his expression softening.

"We're free now, sweetheart," he whispered. "No one will ever make you suffer again."

He had barely taken three steps toward the public driveway when a deafening roar of engines swept through the hospital grounds.

Zade stopped.

Eight sleek, black luxury sedans rounded the curve, their polished bodies gleaming beneath the afternoon sun.

Maybachs and Rolls-Royces rolled toward the entrance, silver trim catching the light while dragon-emblem flags fluttered from their hoods.

Patients, nurses, and visitors hurried aside as the convoy executed a precise maneuver, blocking the driveway.

The doors opened almost simultaneously.

A dozen security guards in tailored charcoal suits emerged, spreading across the entrance with military precision.

Their stern expressions and disciplined movements silenced the curious onlookers.

Then the rear door of the central Maybach swung open.

An elderly man stepped out, dressed in a navy suit that complemented his neatly combed silver hair.

Although he carried a silver-headed cane, his back remained straight, and his commanding presence made people instinctively give him room.

He was Elder Thomas, chief steward and senior guardian of the world-renowned Benson Group.

His sharp gaze swept across the entrance until it settled on Zade.

For a moment, the old man stood motionless. Then his stern expression crumbled, and tears gathered in his eyes.

He hurried forward, accompanied by four elite bodyguards.

Whispers spread through the gathering crowd.

"Isn't that the Benson family?"

"The Benson Group? The global business empire worth billions?"

"Who is that man with the baby? Why would they come looking for him?"

Elder Thomas stopped in front of Zade, studying his face as though searching for something he had spent half his life hoping to find.

Then, without warning, he dropped to one knee on the concrete.

The twelve security guards followed suit, bowing their heads in perfect unison.

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

Zade tightened his hold on Jemima. His expression remained composed, but his eyes sharpened as he faced the elderly man.

"Young Master Zade!"

Elder Thomas's voice trembled with emotion.

"For twenty-five long years, the Benson family has searched every corner of the earth for you. The tragedy that claimed your noble parents left our empire without its rightful heir, and we feared we would never find you."

He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a gold-embossed document bearing the red wax seal of the Benson Supreme Council.

"Three days ago, our covert team obtained a DNA sample from your medical records. The results arrived an hour ago."

His hands shook as he presented the document with both palms.

"A 99.9 percent genetic match. You are the biological son of our late Master, the grandson of the Supreme Patriarch, and the sole undisputed heir to the Benson Empire!"

For a heartbeat, the hospital entrance fell silent.

Then Elder Thomas raised his tearful face toward Zade.

"The blood of the Benson family flows through your veins, Young Master. We have come to take you home."

His voice rang across the courtyard.

"Your throne awaits you!"