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A Poor Girl Said She Could Help the Millionaire’s Blind Son… He Laughed at First... THE GARDENER’S DAUGHTER PROMISED TO MAKE HIS BLIND SON SEE—THEN THE BILLIONAIRE DISCOVERED WHO HAD CAUSED THE ACCIDENT / Chapter 5 / 7

Chapter 5 - THE MASK FALLS

The silence in the foyer was deafening. For a long, agonizing moment, Julian didn't move. Then, a low, chuckle escaped his throat. The chuckle grew into a full, harsh laugh that echoed maniacally through the grand hall.

"He can see?" Julian mocked, taking off his silver-rimmed glasses and wiping them with a silk handkerchief. "Daniel, you've finally lost your mind. Cortical blindness doesn't just cure itself because a peasant girl touched his face. You're hallucinating."

"Am I?" Daniel said, taking another step forward. "Let’s go upstairs and ask him together. Let's see if he can point you out in a lineup."

Julian’s eyes flashed with a sudden, vicious light. He stopped wiping his glasses and put them back on. He didn't look afraid anymore. He looked like a man who had just decided to stop playing a character.

"Even if the brat can see," Julian said, his voice dripping with venom, "who is going to believe him? A traumatized eight-year-old boy who claims he saw a face through a rainy windshield two years ago? Any lawyer in the country would tear that testimony to shreds in five minutes. You have nothing, Daniel."

"I have the police reopening the investigation," Daniel countered. "I have the resources to dig up every single offshore account you used to buy that truck and pay off the driver. I will destroy you, Julian. I will take everything you own and ensure you rot in a maximum-security cell for the rest of your miserable life."

Julian sighed, shaking his head with mock pity. "You always were too arrogant for your own good, big brother. You think your money protects you. You think this mansion is a fortress."

Julian turned to Marcus, the security chief. "Marcus, it seems my brother is having a mental breakdown. He’s becoming violent. We need to handle this quietly."

Daniel’s blood ran cold as Marcus stepped forward, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a silenced 9mm pistol.

"Marcus?" Daniel said, shock registering on his face. "I've paid you a million dollars a year for a decade."

"Julian pays better," Marcus said impassively, raising the weapon. "And Julian doesn't ask me to spend my life guarding a broken family. He’s offering me a percentage of the restructuring."

"You see, Daniel," Julian said, walking over to the grand double doors of the mansion and locking them from the inside. "The board meeting tomorrow is just a formality. The votes are already locked in. You were going to be removed anyway. Now... it just seems you and your tragic son are going to suffer another terrible, fatal accident. Perhaps a house fire. A faulty gas line. It’s so tragic how misfortune follows the Ashford family."

"Where is the girl, Daniel?" Julian demanded, his voice turning cold as stone. "Where is the gardener's daughter? She’s a loose end. And I don't like loose ends."

"She's gone," Daniel lied, stepping in front of the staircase to block their path to the upper floors. "She left through the gardens before I came down."

"Marcus, check the house," Julian ordered, ignoring Daniel. "Find the boy. Find the girl. Kill them both. I'll handle my brother."

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

Julian pulled a heavy, silver-plated revolver from his own waistband—a weapon Daniel recognized as a family heirloom from their father's collection.

"Two years ago, I missed," Julian said, aiming the barrel directly at Daniel’s chest. "This time, I'm going to make sure the job is done right."

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