The Trash Son-in-law Is A Hidden Billionaire

Chapter Eight

Beatrice’s friends exchanged glances, their smiles turning stiff.

Alright, alright,” the blonde said with a light laugh, patting Beatrice’s shoulder gently. “Don’t waste your breath on people like that. We came to see the apartment, remember? I can’t wait to see how grand it is inside.”

Another laughed softly, nodding. “Exactly! Let’s just enjoy the place. No need to get carried away, we came for the bridal suite, not the drama.”

“That’s right. How could I let them ruin the excitement? I’m sorry, sisters, I almost allowed that useless former son-in-law of mine to spoil our day. Come on, let’s go.” Beatrice waved her hand, urging them to follow her.

“Right, here we are,” she said, stopping in front of the apartment door. 

The doors gleamed with gold-trimmed handles, flanked on both sides by tall, elegant potted plants whose deep green leaves shimmered beneath the warm glow of the lights. The polished wood was carved with intricate patterns that exuded wealth and grandeur, giving the entrance an air of grandeur and exclusivity.   

The women’s eyes widened. “Wow… this is incredible,” they exclaimed. Inwardly, they wished their sons or sons-in-law would be able to get them something similar in the future. This was true luxury, and the women were genuinely impressed.

“I can’t believe Daniel got this luxurious apartment for a wedding home. It must have cost him a fortune. I can’t hide it anymore, Beatrice — I’m a bit jealous,” one of the women said, her eyes glinting with a mix of envy and awe.

“This isn’t even really a luxury apartment, just a place to sleep.” She pulled out a key card, trying her best to sound modest, though deep down, pride swelled in her chest.

Waving the card in her hand, she added with a smug smile, “I’ve told my son-in-law many times not to spend too much. My daughter isn’t the kind of woman who cares about wealth. Just a comfortable space for the two of them is enough.”

Her friends eyes sparkled as the leaned closer

“Beatrice, you’ve got it good. Not every man rushes to set his mother-in-law up in style.”

“Yes,” another laughed. “Rich and eager to please, you really hit the jackpot.”

A satisfied smile curved her lips, she raised her head high as she enjoyed every teasing words from her friends. “But of course. He insisted I move in, said he wouldn’t rest until I was properly taken care of. Very generous of him.” She folded her hands loosely in front of her, unable to hide the faint grin spreading across her face.

Her friends nudged one another giggling. “Listen to her! Spoiled rotten already. Beatrice, you’ve got it all — money, comfort, and a son-in-law who treats you like a queen! Beatrice, you’re living the dream, money, comfort, and a son-in-law who treats you like royalty.”

Beatrice nodded in agreement. She, too, believed she was blessed.

Soaking in their flattery, she stepped up to the door and swiped the card.

Nothing happened.

Her smile froze. Had she mis-swiped? Impossible. She tried again, slower this time. A faint light blinked, but the door stayed locked.

The women behind her, who just a few seconds ago had been giggling and praising her, fell silent. Why isn’t it opening? one thought, biting her lip. They stared nervously at Beatrice, hoping this was just a prank.

Beatrice gritted her teeth and swiped harder. At once, the alarm blared.

Woo! Woo!

The siren echoed through the building. For a split second they stood stunned

"What's happening?" they panicked.

Did we trigger some kind of security protection? Their worry clearly showed on their faces as they tried to process what was really happening. The blaring alarm frightened them.

"I think something is wrong here, girls. We need to leave now," the blonde spoke up, retreating as she talked.

A second woman hesitated. "This can't be our fault... right?" She was torn between trusting Beatrice and saving herself.

"Wait, guys, don't leave. Monica is right—I'm sure this is probably an error in the system, and they’ll resolve it soon," Beatrice pleaded.

She was confident because she was personally handed the key card by her daughter's fiancee Daniel and he had already purchased the house.

But her friends didn’t want to know this. To them, the only reason the alarm blared was because they had trespassed. Could it be that her son-in-law had lied to her and given her the wrong apartment address?

As if to confirm their fears, they sighted the security guards in the distance. The women immediately became terrified.

Oh no, this is surely the wrong apartment. Otherwise, why are the security guards coming here? 

God, they couldn’t afford to get dragged into this — trespassing laws were no joke! Without thinking further, the women fled, leaving Beatrice standing there.

She remained stubborn. She was sure she didn’t have the wrong card—maybe if she just explained, they would back off or even help her out. Besides, bolting right after showing off would make her look pathetic in front of her friends.

Several security guards came charging in from the opposite direction, batons in hand, blocking the path the women were trying to flee through. They rushed straight toward the panicked women.

“You all, stop right there!” one of them shouted.

The women froze on the spot, their escape plan instantly cut off. Their faces were filled with despair as they tried to explain to the security guards, but Beatrice was faster. She stepped forward quickly, waving the key card.

“Wait, please! This is a misunderstanding. Look, I have the key card! This is my son-in-law’s place. He gave me the card so I could check it out.”

The guards didn’t look convinced. Their eyes narrowed, full of suspicion, before settling on Beatrice, the one holding the key card.

“Quiet! All of you, squat down immediately!” the head security officer barked.