The Trash Son-in-law Is A Hidden Billionaire

Chapter Four

Mark walked down the street slowly and steadily, thinking about the things that had happened today and yesterday. He did not want to call Liam to pick him up by car. The walk helped him clear his mind.

He had not gone far from the mansion when his phone rang.

He answered.

“Hello, boss. The transfer of Willstark shares is almost complete. I paused the process so you can officially hand it over to her after the Nasdaq bell ringing in two days,” Liam reported. He sounded reluctant, but there was nothing he could do about the situation.

Mark’s heart sank with bitterness. He had been prepared to hand over the shares to her as a gift after the bell ringing. This news worsened his mood.

“It is no longer necessary, Liam. Charlotte and I are no longer together. I already asked her for a divorce, and I will go to collect the papers in three days. As for the share transfer, I trust you, Liam. Handle it as you think best. Right now I want to be left alone. Don’t disturb me again unless it is important,” he said firmly.

“Okay, boss. Leave the rest to me. I won’t bother you again.” Liam could barely contain his excitement over the phone. Finally his boss was going to let that woman and her family go, the family that had not taken him seriously.

After the call ended, Mark felt a sudden urge to visit his mother’s grave. There was an emptiness inside him that he believed only she could ease.

He immediately flagged down a taxi.

***

Mark knelt before his mother’s tombstone. His heart was full of sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Your son failed you. I could not protect my marriage. I failed as a man. I failed.” He cried bitterly, bending until his hands touched the earth.

“I…”

“Help! Somebody help me, please!”

A sudden female voice cut through the air and startled him. Mark narrowed his eyes and turned toward the sound. He glanced back at his mother’s tombstone, then stood and headed toward the voice to see what was wrong.

He did not walk far before he saw a woman running at full speed, three hefty men armed with blades close behind her. She tripped and fell, giving them the chance to catch up. They surrounded her. She yelled again, calling for help.

“Hehehe, stop wasting your energy. No one can hear you here. Cry all you want. Be obedient and you will suffer less,” one of the men sneered, licking his lips as he looked at her lecherously.

Mark moved to interfere before things got worse.

“Hey, what are you doing? Don’t you have any shame trying to harm a weak and helpless girl?” he called.

The three men looked at his thin frame, then at each other, and burst out laughing in unison.

“This is hilarious,” their leader said, still laughing. “Who do you think you are? Some superhero from a movie? This is not a film. I can snap you with my bare hands. Don’t play prince charming rescuing the princess here, or we might put a few holes in you.” He flashed his dagger to show he meant business.

Mark smirked. Are they really looking down on me? he thought, amused. He did not even consider them a match for him.

“Last warning. Leave her now and I will spare you,” he said coldly.

The trio grew angry. “Hey kid, I think I should teach you a lesson—” the leader began. Before he finished, Mark acted. He moved with speed and precision, knocking the dagger from the leader’s hand before the man could react. He lifted the leader effortlessly and threw him toward the other two.

His body hurtled forward and smashed into them, sending all three crashing to the ground.

Mark walked toward them slowly; his steps sounded loud in the silent graveyard. To the burly men, it was as if the grim reaper were approaching. They shivered without meaning to.

“We are sorry, sir. We shouldn’t have offended you,” their leader pleaded while the others nodded frantically.

“Your apology is useless to me. Apologize to the lady now!” His voice was sharp and commanding.

They all hurriedly bowed toward her. “We are sorry, miss. Please forgive us,” they said, fear etched across their faces.

Mark's smile didn't reach his eyes as he adjusted his jacket. “Leave. Be gone before I finish counting to three. If you’re still here, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

They scrambled to their feet as if given a second chance at life and fled without another glance. Mark did not follow them. Instead, he looked at the woman still lying on the ground.

He went to her and helped her up. A strange flush stained her face. Mark narrowed his eyes and took her pulse. His suspicion was confirmed: she had likely been poisoned with a dangerous drug. If nothing was done, she could die within twelve hours.

“Please, help… my body— I don’t know what’s wrong,” she gasped before fainting in his arms.

***

Inside a hotel room, Mark looked down at the pretty woman lying on the huge bed. He had brought her here after she fainted at the graveyard. He planned to perform an old technique called bloodletting to detoxify her.

Before he could start, Mark had to strip away the clothes that were in the way. He didn’t hesitate. If he did nothing, she would die. With a quick tug, he tore open her blouse. A sweet fragrance burst into his nose, her pale skin and trembling curves enough to stir dangerous thoughts with a single glance. He drew in a sharp breath, his fingers sliding over her body like a snake, pressing hard on the flushed joint he had been searching for.

“Ah—” she gasped, her breath hot against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and a flush across his face. But Mark was no rookie. Battle-hardened, steady, his hands moved fast and precise. Moments later, the trickle of blood finally slowed. The woman let out a soft, contented murmur, her struggles fading. Mark’s gaze shifted away, his expression stiff—yet the tent straining below betrayed him.