The Discarded Son-in-Law Is a Billionaire Heir

Chapter 6

While a quiet, high-tech sanctuary shielded baby Jemima in the east wing of the Benson Manor, a very different scene unfolded across town at L’Étoile, the most exclusive fine-dining restaurant in the city’s financial district.

Soft violin music floated through the ambient lighting of a private second-floor balcony.

Crystal chandeliers glinted against polished silver, reflecting off tall glasses filled with vintage champagne.

At the center table, Mrs. Brighton sliced into a bloody wagyu steak, a triumphant grin permanently fixed on her face.

"To a new era of absolute freedom!" Mrs. Brighton declared loudly, raising her glass into the air with a theatrical flourish.

"To purging that penniless, pathetic parasite from our household once and for all!"

Binta sat across from her mother, looking radiant in a newly purchased red silk cocktail dress. She raised her own glass, clinking it against her mother's with a sharp, satisfying clink.

"I still can't believe how smoothly it went, Mom," Binta laughed, taking a long sip of champagne.

"This past year felt like a lifetime trapped in that fake marriage! Ever since grandfather forced me to marry him after college just because I got pregnant, I hated every single second of looking at his broke face. Now he’s out on the street with that sick baby, probably sleeping in some filthy alleyway, while we celebrate!"

"He got exactly what he deserved," Mrs. Brighton sneered, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.

"He actually thought he could demand custody! As if we would ever spend a single penny of Brighton money on a sickly child that would only drain our wealth. Let him carry that burden until it breaks his back!"

At the head of the table sat Pascal Black.

He was dressed in a sleek, tailored Italian suit, a gold watch gleaming on his wrist. Pascal was the handsome, arrogant heir to Black Holdings, a mid-tier real estate firm.

For months, Binta had been secretly courting Pascal, desperate to replace Zade with a man who possessed actual wealth, influence, and social standing.

Pascal leaned back in his leather chair, swirling his wine glass with an amused, superior smile.

"You women handled that brilliantly," Pascal praised smoothly, his voice oozing fake charm. "Cut the dead weight before it drags you down. That's the first rule of real business, Binta."

Binta’s heart fluttered at his words.

She leaned across the table, placing her hand gently over Pascal’s wrist, her eyes glittering with ambition.

"Now that I’m officially divorced, Pascal, we don't have to hide anymore," Binta purred softly.

"We can attend the upcoming Annual Corporate Summit together as an official couple. Everyone in high society will see that I belong right by your side."

Pascal smiled, but his eyes remained sharp and calculating beneath his warm facade. He gently patted Binta’s hand, though his mind was already running numbers.

"Of course, darling," Pascal lied smoothly.

"You belong in the upper crest. Once Brighton Enterprises settles its minor restructuring, we’ll be the power couple of the city."

In reality, Pascal didn't care about Binta’s charm or beauty.

He was courting her for one reason only: he believed Brighton Enterprises was sitting on massive cash reserves and valuable prime real estate holdings.

He intended to marry Binta, merge their family assets, and use her family’s capital to bail out his own struggling investments.

What Pascal didn't know—and what Binta and her mother were desperately trying to ignore—was that the Brighton family empire was already rotting from the inside out.

As if on cue, Mrs. Brighton’s smartphone vibrated violently against the white tablecloth.

She glanced down at the screen, her cheerful smile momentarily freezing when she saw the caller ID: Chief Financial Officer – Urgent.

Mrs. Brighton quickly pressed the mute button, flipping the phone face down with an irritated tut. "Ugh, work never stops. Our accounting department is so incompetent."

"Is everything alright with the company, Mom?" Binta asked, pausing her glass halfway to her mouth.

"Of course it's fine!" Mrs. Brighton dismissed sharply, though a subtle twitch appeared at the corner of her left eye.

"Just minor operational details. Our old suppliers are just being needy."

In truth, those "minor details" were massive crack lines forming in the foundation of Brighton Enterprises.

For the past year, while Zade was quietly running all the household chores and managing their daily life as a live-in husband, Mrs. Brighton had made a series of disastrous executive decisions.

She had taken out high-interest short-term loans to fund her lavish lifestyle, invested millions into failed overseas stocks, and neglected core manufacturing contracts.

Even worse, Zade was no longer around to take the blame for their bad moods or fix their domestic oversights.

Without his silent, grounding presence absorbing their toxicity, the reality of their gross financial incompetence was rapidly rushing up to meet them.

"So, Pascal," Mrs. Brighton chimed in quickly, eager to change the subject before any suspicion arose. "When is Black Holdings finalizing that commercial plaza deal downtown? I heard it's going to generate tens of millions in revenue!"

Pascal’s smile faltered for a microsecond before he caught himself.

"Ah, very soon, Mrs. Brighton. We are just securing the final institutional backer. In fact, I was hoping Brighton Enterprises might want to co-invest a small sum—say, five million—to secure a ten percent equity stake?"

Binta looked at her mother excitedly. "Mom! That sounds incredible! We should definitely do it!"

Mrs. Brighton’s throat felt dry. Five million dollars? Brighton Enterprises barely had two million in liquid cash left across all its corporate bank accounts, and three major loan repayments were due at the end of the month.

"Well... let's discuss the paperwork next week, Pascal," Mrs. Brighton stammered, forcing a stiff, awkward laugh as she picked up her wine glass with trembling fingers.

"Tonight is about celebrating! To Binta’s bright, glorious future!"

"To the future!" Binta cheered, raising her glass high, completely oblivious to the financial abyss opening up beneath her feet.

They drank, laughed, and ordered the most expensive desserts on the menu, utterly convinced that they had just rid themselves of a penniless burden and stepped into a world of limitless luxury.

They had no idea that while they toasted to a bankrupt future with stolen champagne, the man they had thrown away was currently sitting in a private suite, watching over the true heiress of a trillion-dollar empire, holding enough wealth in his little finger to buy and crush Brighton Enterprises a thousand times over.