Once the Fake Son Died, the True Heir’s Lies Fell Apart

"Attack!"

The men charged toward me, swinging their batons. I could already hear the sound of my bones cracking.

My white shirt was soaked with blood and even my black suit had turned dark red, a shocking sight, but they showed no mercy, as if they wouldn’t stop until I was dead.

"If I die here today, the Rodriguez Family won’t let you go!"

"You still think you’re the cherished eldest son of the Rodriguez Family? You’re just a mistake, a bastard who was taken by accident! If Sir and Madam didn’t pity you, they would’ve thrown you out long ago!"

"When Matthew returned, they wanted to send you away. If it weren’t for Cindy begging for you to stay, saying it’s like keeping another dog, do you think you’d still be here in the Rodriguez family?"

"And now you still dream of stealing Matthew’s bride!"

I suddenly laughed. "So you’re not scared I’ll mess up the wedding, you actually want to kill me!"

"It wouldn’t be strange if you fell to your death while trying to escape, right, Joseph?"

I felt scared. I could die, but not this quickly. And this wasn’t the way I had chosen to die. What if I couldn’t return?

I didn’t know where the strength came from, but I pushed the person in front of me, knocking over the eternal lamp my mother had lit for Matthew on the platform.

The lamp fell to the floor and caught the nearby curtains on fire. The villa was soon swallowed by the fire.

"Damn you, little bastard! How dare you start a fire!"

Taking advantage of their panic, I ran out, dragging my injured leg.

The villa area was surrounded by security cameras, so they didn’t dare to chase me.

Wearing a blood-stained suit, I limped to the street, dragging my broken leg as I tried to stop a taxi to get to the hotel.

Maybe because I looked frightening, no driver wanted to pick me up. At last, a kind young man stopped and asked if I needed help. I begged him to take me to the hotel.

The hotel belonged to my father and the staff there knew who I was. So even when the guards and receptionists saw me, none of them dared to stop me.

When I reached the reception hall, Cindy and our parents were there. They were warmly greeting the wedding guests, their faces glowing with happiness. But the moment they saw me, their smiles disappeared.

Many reporters had come to cover this grand wedding and when they saw me suddenly appear, they all rushed forward to take photos.

Cindy walked up to me. "Why are you here?"

"You useless fools! You can’t even watch over one person!"

"Look at yourself! You came here just to ruin things for us, didn’t you?"

"Do you want to be on the front page that badly? Do you want attention that much?"

Mom hurried over, her eyes full of worry. "Joseph, what happened to you? Is that blood on your suit?"

"It’s blood. All mine. I was beaten half to death by Matthew’s men. I barely made it out alive."

Dad raised his hand and slapped me, blood spilling from the corner of my mouth.

"Shameless brat! You just can’t stand your brother, can you?"

Mom grabbed my hand. "Joseph, you said Matthew’s men attacked you?"

Cindy pulled her away. "How could that be? He must have painted himself with paint. He always loves showing off in front of the media!"

She grabbed my wrist and dragged me out. I stumbled a few steps and fell to the floor, my broken leg exposed for everyone to see, leaving the whole crowd in shock.