My Son-In-Law Spent My Money on His Mistress

Derrick and Vivien froze.

My daughter, eyes swollen from crying, finally realized it was me. She scrambled into my arms, her voice shaking with panic.

“Mom, please… save the baby! She’s burning up!”

I looked down.

My granddaughter’s tiny eyelids were shut tight. Her flushed face glistened with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead, her skin scorching to the touch.

My heart seized.

“Call the nearest top hospital,” I ordered my assistant. “Get an ambulance here now!”

But just as she turned to act, a Postnatal Recovery Suite staffer stepped forward and blocked her path, sneering.

“Who the hell are you? Some peasant from the sticks playing hero?”

“You assaulted the president and the true daughter of the Camden Group. If you don’t kneel and beg for forgiveness, I won’t let any ambulance in—even if one shows up! Saving scum like you is a waste of resources!”

I stared her down coldly.

“My name is Quinn Camden, President of the Camden Group. Stand aside. Now. Or prepare to face the consequences.”

The woman burst out laughing.

Just then, Derrick stepped forward, supporting an older woman with Vivien by his side. He pointed at her dramatically and sneered, “Now this is my mother-in-law! The real president of the Camden Group!”

He gestured toward me with mockery in his eyes.

“You? What a joke. Stole some clothes and brought a few hired thugs—what are you, a scam artist? Or did your daughter swipe my mother-in-law’s wardrobe for you?”

The woman beside him was instantly recognizable.

Vivien’s mother. Years ago, I’d seen her struggling to make ends meet. Out of kindness, I hired her as a live-in nanny and paid her far above market rate.

So much for gratitude.

The men lurking nearby joined in with jeers.

“How shameless can you be? Living off charity and still stealing clothes?”

“Mr. Harlan, should we strip her down and take back what’s yours?”

One of them snickered. “Didn’t get to enjoy the party last time. Marla gave birth too early. But her mom’s still got some fire. Want to place a new bet?”

Disgust curdled in my gut.

My assistant leaned in and whispered something. Rage surged through me.

After my daughter entered the Postnatal Recovery Suite, Derrick—to entertain Vivien—had let different men harass her daily. Then he twisted the narrative, accusing her of being promiscuous.

These degenerates? Just a few of the culprits.

Even worse, they weren’t nobodies. They were the next-generation heirs of powerful Chicago families—people whose parents used to sit across the negotiation table from me.

But now? Those silver-spoon brats didn’t even recognize me, Quinn?

I turned, my gaze sharp as a blade, and began naming them, one by one:

“The Landry family—seafood trade.”

“The Zeller family—hotel conglomerate.”

“The Zane family—import-export logistics…”

“Greta,” I said evenly, “cut ties with all of them. Effective immediately.”

These people built their fortunes on contracts from my company.

And now they dared to touch my daughter?

They weren’t expecting that. Whispers broke out among them, and their confident smirks began to falter.

Derrick’s face twisted in fury, jaw clenched tight.

Just then, the sound of engines roared in from outside.

A fleet of black Cayennes rolled into the driveway—over a dozen, sleek and unmistakable.

The Camden Group’s official vehicles.

A group of men and women in suits emerged, one after another, each wearing a staff badge from different departments—finance, legal, human resources.

But not a single one of them was familiar to me.

They marched up to Derrick and Vivien in perfect formation and bowed.

“Mr. Harlan, Miss Knox—we apologize for the delay!”

Derrick looked toward me, triumphant.

Vivien leaned in with a smirk.

Then Derrick leaned closer, smirking with arrogance.

“Old woman, you really don’t know what’s going on, do you? While you were off playing boss overseas, I replaced every single person in your company.”

“The Camden Group belongs to us now. Be smart—kneel and apologize to Vivien and me, and maybe I’ll even toss you a job later.”

The men around them roared with laughter.

“She impersonated the president? What a joke! Let’s call the police and have both these bitches locked up!”

I smiled, calm and unfazed.

Because that was exactly what I was about to do.

Without raising my voice, I turned slightly and said to the crowd, “You all saw what happened here. The evidence is clear, the criminals are present, and justice is overdue.”