The Discarded Son-in-Law Is a Billionaire Heir

Chapter 7

Soft morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Benson Manor’s central study.

The room smelled of polished mahogany, old paper, and rich espresso. It was where decisions worth billions were made with the flick of a pen.

Zade sat at the head of a massive oval conference table, cradling a warm porcelain mug. His eyes were tired, but his focus remained sharp. He had spent the night sleeping in a recliner beside the baby’s crib in the east wing. Every time Jemima stirred or sighed, he woke instantly, his protective instincts on high alert.

Only after the lead pediatrician had repeatedly assured him that her blood panels and vital signs were flawless did he finally leave to attend the mandatory briefing.

Across from him sat Patriarch Wynn, Elder Thomas, and three senior family advisors. Leather-bound ledgers, encrypted digital tablets, and corporate ownership charts covered the table, detailing the staggering reach of the Benson Group.

"Take your time, Zade," Patriarch Wynn said gently, watching his grandson study the documents. "You don't have to absorb twenty-five years of corporate history in a single morning.

He paused, leaning forward on his wooden staff with an affectionate smile.

"By the way, my boy, in all the whirlwind of your return yesterday, I realized I never asked. What is my great-granddaughter's name? Have you given our little princess a name yet?"

Zade's expression softened. He glanced toward the window, remembering the sweet face of the little girl he had lost in his tragic past life. This time, he had sworn to protect her with his very soul.

"Jemima," he answered softly, his voice filled with unwavering devotion. "Her name is Jemima."

Patriarch Wynn's face lit up with pride.

"Jemima Benson. A beautiful name, fit for the heiress of our family."

He turned to Elder Thomas.

"Make sure her name is officially registered in the family archives today."

"Right away, Supreme Patriarch," Thomas replied respectfully.

Zade returned his attention to the financial summary before him. The figures were staggering. Shipping fleets, global real estate, technological infrastructure, and pharmaceutical laboratories made up only a fraction of the family's empire.

In his previous life, he had worried about having enough money to buy a single box of baby formula while Binta spent thousands on designer clothes.

Now, one subsidiary under the Benson Group generated more revenue in an hour than Binta's entire family business earned in a decade.

The difference was almost surreal, but Zade forced himself to remain grounded.

Wealth is just a tool, he reminded himself. It means nothing if I can't protect my daughter and secure our future.

"Grandfather," he said, his voice calm and practical, "I appreciate the scale of all this, but I need to understand the history of the main holding board. Before I take on any executive role, I want to know how my father managed the core operations."

Patriarch Wynn's expression grew somber. He gestured toward Elder Thomas, who nodded and retrieved a thick, velvet-bound archive folder from a lockbox on the side table.

"Your father, Master Julian Benson, was a genius," Thomas began, opening the folder to reveal yellowed photographs and printed police reports. "He was thirty when he took over as CEO. Under his leadership, the group expanded internationally. But twenty-five years ago..."

He hesitated, his voice faltering. "...tragedy struck."

Zade leaned forward, his heart tightening.

"Tell me everything."

"It was a rainy Tuesday night in November," Thomas continued, studying the old photographs.

"Your father and mother were returning from a charity gala in the northern district. You were in the backseat, secured in a child safety seat. According to the official police report, the roads were slick, and your father's luxury sedan suffered a catastrophic mechanical failure. The brakes failed at a high-speed mountain turn, sending the car tumbling down an embankment."