Gone for a Year, She's 8 Months Pregnant:The Hidden Billionaire's Revenge

Adam glanced back with a smirk. "Uncle Walter, the man's still your son-in-law. Who knows—maybe he'll make something of himself one day."

Walter scoffed. "Him?"

"That deadbeat couldn't amount to anything if you gave him a hundred years."

He turned to Cynthia. "Sweetheart, where's that divorce agreement I told you to have ready? Go get it. Let this waste of space sign."

Cynthia nodded and gave me a brief glance before disappearing into the house.

There was nothing in that look. No warmth, no anger, no guilt. Just the gaze of a stranger.

Three years of marriage. Two of those years, I'd treated her like she was the center of my world.

One year away on business, and this was what I came back to.

She'd moved on before my suitcase was even unpacked.

Almost laughable, really.

But it all came down to one thing—they all thought I was broke.

The truth was, I had more money than both their families combined.

Snow began to fall, and the aroma of a home-cooked meal drifted from inside the house.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

Clearly, I'd interrupted their family dinner.

Adam spoke up again. "Uncle Walter, it's snowing out here. That's not good for the baby—Cynthia shouldn't be standing in the cold. Why not let him come inside to sign?"

The corner of his mouth curled. His meaning was transparent—he wanted to humiliate me on their turf.

Walter let out a derisive snort. "Our two families are on the rise. I doubt he'd have the nerve."

I swept a glance at the bodyguards stationed around the villa. At a subtle look from Walter, every one of them turned their eyes on me.

Ready to move the instant the order came.

So this was how it was going to be. A trap dressed up as a dinner invitation.

But I'd been to every corner of this country and seen far worse.

Not a ripple of unease. I smiled faintly. "Why wouldn't I dare?"

As I stepped inside, I sent my location to my people.

The dining table in the living room was laid out with an impressive spread—steaming dishes that filled the air with rich, savory warmth. Through the kitchen doorway, I caught sight of Eunice bustling over the stove. She turned, spotted me, and her expression shifted from surprise to undisguised contempt—a mirror of her husband's.

There was a time I would have given anything for this kind of warmth. An orphan's hunger for family runs deep.

Now, all I felt was cold.

The moment I sat down, Cynthia walked over with the divorce papers and set them in front of me.

"Marcus. Just sign."

I scanned the document, taking in every clause.

I'd braced myself. But when my eyes landed on the words relinquish all marital assets—something still twisted behind my ribs.

I wasn't a live-in son-in-law. I'd never taken a dime from her father. The house downtown—I'd bought it. I'd spoiled Cynthia like a princess.

I didn't pick up the pen. I closed the agreement and set it aside.

Walter's eyes narrowed to slits. "What—you won't sign?"

I shook my head. "Just hold on."

"You came into this family with nothing. Don't tell me you think you're entitled to a share of my assets." His voice rose. "Don't even dream about it!"

Beside him, Cynthia's tone was flat and distant. "Marcus, don't push your luck. You should understand—between my family and Adam's, we have more than enough power to make sure you never find your footing anywhere again."

"Letting you walk away empty-handed is already generous."

I lifted my gaze to meet hers. "Is that so? By that logic, I should be thanking you all for sparing my life?"

Cynthia's jaw tightened. "That's right. You need to recognize the gap between us."

The gap.

A faint smile crossed my face. "You don't need to tell me. I see it perfectly clearly."

"I'll sign. But first, you answer two questions."

Walter erupted instantly. "Who the hell do you think you are, making demands of me?!"

But Adam held up a hand, stopping him, and smiled.