The Discarded Son-in-Law Is a Billionaire Heir

Chapter 4

Zade froze, his eyes widening in dramatic disbelief as he looked down at the kneeling elder and the line of elite guards.

"What is going on?" Zade stammered, stepping back slightly while tightening his arms around baby Jemima.

"Is this a prank? Who hired you people to pull a stunt like this?"

The elder did not rise. Instead, he lifted his face, his eyes filled with profound sincerity and warmth.

"I assure you, Young Master, this is no prank," the elder said gently, his voice deep and reassuring. "My name is Thomas Hawthorne. I am the chief steward and senior guardian of the main Benson estate. For over thirty years, I served your late father as his most trusted advisor."

Thomas slowly stood up, leaning lightly on his silver-headed cane, while the guards remained motionless in their respectful bows.

"Twenty-five years ago, when you were just a two-year-old child, a horrific and mysterious tragedy struck your family," Thomas explained, his voice dipping into a somber tone.

"Your parents were killed in a terrible car crash, and in the chaotic aftermath, you vanished without a trace. We searched every city, every orphanage, and every database across the globe. The main family never gave up hope. We knew the rightful bloodline of the Benson empire was still alive out there somewhere."

Thomas gestured toward the gold-embossed document in his hand.

"Our private intelligence network finally flagged your records a week ago. When the DNA results confirmed the truth today, the Supreme Patriarch personally ordered me to deploy our full security team to bring you home."

Zade stared at Thomas, processing the elder's words.

In his past life, he had died penniless, believing he was an abandoned orphan with no background and no family to call his own.

To hear that he was the missing heir to a multi-billion-dollar global empire sent a jolt of electrifying power through his veins.

"The Benson family..." Zade murmured, looking down at tiny Jemima, who slept soundly against his chest, completely unbothered by the grand commotion.

"Yes, Young Master," Thomas said softly, stepping forward and making a polite, respectful bow.

"You and the little princess will never suffer again. Please, allow us to escort you to the Benson estate. The Supreme Patriarch is anxiously waiting to see his long-lost grandson."

Thomas stepped aside and held open the heavy door of the central custom Maybach.

The interior was lined with plush leather, glowing ambient lights, and state-of-the-art climate control, offering a haven of supreme comfort and security.

Zade took a deep breath, his decision already made. He had promised to give Jemima the world, and fate had just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

"Lead the way, Elder Thomas," Zade said, his voice instantly regaining its cool, calm authority.

"With great honor, Young Master," Thomas replied, his face lighting up with joy.

Zade stepped into the luxurious interior of the vehicle, sitting back onto the soft leather seats. Thomas closed the door with a quiet thud, shutting out the noise of the outside world, before sliding into the front passenger seat.

Outside, the hospital entrance was in absolute turmoil.

Nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors lined the glass doors and windows, filming with their phones and whispering frantically in sheer disbelief.

"Did you see that?!"

"That poor guy carrying a newborn just got picked up by the Benson family!"

"They called him Young Master! He’s a billionaire heir!"

The lead sports utility vehicles roared to life, their engines rumbling through the pavement. In a synchronized, military-precision formation, the convoy of pitch-black luxury sedans pulled out of the hospital driveway, tires spinning as they accelerated onto the main highway.

Within seconds, the fleet transformed into a sleek, dark blur, speeding away toward the exclusive estate hills on the outskirts of the city.

Meanwhile, back on the third floor of the hospital, the atmosphere inside the maternity room was entirely different.

Binta sat propped up against her pillows, admiring her newly manicured nails while humming a cheerful tune.

On the bedside table sat two tall crystal glasses filled with expensive imported champagne, brought in secretly by her mother’s personal driver.

Mrs. Brighton popped the cork with a loud clack, pouring the sparkling liquid into both glasses with a triumphant grin plastered across her face.

"A toast, my darling!" Mrs. Brighton declared loudly, handing a glass to Binta. "To the greatest day of our lives! To freedom, prosperity, and the final removal of that filthy leech!"

Binta took the glass and clinked it against her mother's, letting out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"I still can't believe how easy that was, Mom," Binta sneered, taking a sip of the sweet champagne.

"The idiot actually took the sick baby and signed away every single right to our money without complaining! He walked out of here with nothing but the clothes on his back!"

"Of course he did!" Mrs. Brighton cackled, waving her hand dismissively.

"He's a spineless coward, Binta! He knows he doesn't belong in our world. Now he's out on the street with a sickly child that will bleed him dry. Within a month, he'll be begging on the street corners or sleeping under a bridge!"

"Let him beg," Binta said, her eyes flashing with cold arrogance as she set her glass down.

"He almost ruined my life. Now I can finally show myself in public with Pascal without feeling embarrassed. Pascal promised to take me to the grand corporate summit next month, and with Zade gone, nothing can stop me from becoming the top socialite in the city."

"That is my girl," Mrs. Brighton praised, patting Binta’s hand proudly. "Let that homeless loser rot in poverty with his useless baby. We have a family empire to run!"

The two women erupted into malicious laughter, pouring themselves more champagne, completely blissfully ignorant of the spectacle that had just unfolded three floors below them on the driveway.

They had no idea that the man they had just kicked out into the cold was currently riding in a multi-million-dollar armored Maybach, surrounded by an elite security force, heading straight to claim his throne as the supreme ruler of the Benson Empire.