My 47-Year-Old Stepson Calls Me Daddy

"Hey! Hey! Good son!"

I grabbed his hand, tears streaming down my face. "Once your mom's first seven days are over, we'll live our lives properly, you and me."

Lucas turned his head away, ears tipped red.

"Austin Dickerson is here to read the will."

He changed the subject, but the hostility from before was gone.

Austin walked in wearing a black suit, briefcase in hand.

Behind him trailed a flock of Gilbert relatives—and that snake Madeline.

The way she looked at me was like she was sizing up a corpse.

My stomach dropped. Bad feeling.

Austin cleared his throat and pulled out a document.

"According to Ms. Mia Gilbert's will, all real estate and cash under her name, as well as 30% of Gilbert Group shares..."

Everyone held their breath.

"...will be inherited by her legal husband, Mr. Peter Harding."

Boom—

The room erupted.

The relatives' eyes bulged with jealousy.

Even Lucas, who'd known this was coming, darkened slightly.

But he glanced at my bandages, sighed, and said nothing.

Looked like he'd accepted it.

I was ecstatic—fifty million? That was small-minded!

This was hundreds of billions!

I was about to reach out, sign, and walk toward the peak of my life.

"Wait!"

A shrill howl cut through the chaos.

Madeline pushed forward.

No evidence in her hands—just that vicious smile curling at the corner of her mouth as she stared me down.

"Sir! This will is invalid!"

Lucas frowned. "Madeline, what nonsense is this?"

She jabbed a finger at my nose, voice like nails on a chalkboard:

"Because he isn't the madam's legal husband at all!"

"That marriage certificate is fake!"

My head buzzed.

How?

Mia and I went to the Civil Registry Office ourselves—took the photo ourselves, picked up the certificate ourselves!

Lucas shot to his feet, gaze razor-sharp. "What did you say?"

Madeline whipped a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto the table.

"Sir, look! I found this among the madam's belongings!"

In the photo, Mia sat in a coffee shop. Across from her—a bald old man.

On the table between them: two bright-red marriage certificates.

I knew that man.

Nathan Finch. The fake certificate guy.

The same Nathan Finch who got hauled in for fraud.

Madeline's voice dripped venom:

"That forger admitted it himself—the madam's marriage certificate was his work! You won't find it in the Civil Registry Office system anywhere!"

"Peter Harding is a fraud!"

Lucas picked up the photo. The veins on the back of his hand bulged.

Slowly, he turned to look at me.

That flicker of warmth from moments ago—gone.

Replaced by something colder than death.

"Dad?"

He spat the word through clenched teeth, dripping with contempt.

"This is the fatherly love you talked about?"

"For money, you'd stoop to forging documents?"

I opened my mouth. My throat was sandpaper—no sound came out.

What the hell...

What was happening?!