In Miller Residence, a dark figure suddenly appeared in the pitch-ck house.


    If it weren’t for the fact that everyone in the vi had returned home for the day, he would have surely scared them.


    Out of habit, he looked towards the small room on the second floor and instinctively called out, “Mother.”


    But there was no reply.


    He couldn’t help but mock himself for being foolish because… his mother had passed away a long time ago.


    No one would ever bring him a bowl of steamy soup again.


    His eyes grew dim.


    He navigated through the darkness and made his way up to the second floor. After changing into a ck robe, he picked up his phone and headed out, alone, to watch a movie.


    “Hell,” a film by the renowned director, was highly praised by others but ended up being boring for him, as he dozed off in the theater.


    Still by himself, lonely, he made his way home.


    While on the road, he noticed a small shop that was still open. A big redntern hung from the eaves, emitting a warm, golden-red glow.


    Benson pushed his hands deeper into his sleeves, resembling a disappointed and solitary swordsman, as he walked inside.


    A momentter, he walked out again.


    Just like before, only this time he had an oily paper package in his hands.


    As he passed through the living room, he was about to turn on the lights when suddenly the crystal chandelier brightened, illuminating the entire hall, which was immactely clean.


    “You are back,” a chilly voice suddenly echoed through the hall.


    The person sitting on the sofa slowly stood up, their deep andposed eyes fixed directly on Benson.


    It had been almost eight years since theyst met.


    Benson looked at his father, with his white hair, and a wave of excitement washed over him. He couldn’t help but let tears well up in his eyes as he softly called out, “Father!”


    “Mm!”


    The man, around fifty years old, stood tall and slender.


    His neat short hair entuated his well-defined features. With proper care, even his handsome eyebrows and eyes appeared to be in their forties.


    He was Rohan, whom Cheyenne had encountered in the hall earlier.


    “By the way, I’ve dismissed all the household staff. I’m going to Truphis tomorrow, and this time you’reing with me!”


    He spoke while examining Benson, who, after all these years, had grown taller than him by almost a head.


    He had be a full-fledged adult.This content is ? N?velDrama.Org.


    There was a resemnce to his deceased wife in his appearance, causing a hint of redness in his eyes. He suppressed his emotions, trying to meet his father’s gaze with a calm look.


    “I’m going too? I won’t go!”


    Without hesitation, Benson refused hismand and nced upstairs, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of the room.


    His Adam’s apple moved, and his emotions sank. “I want to stay here with Mom.”


    As soon as he finished speaking, an unexpected backhand pped his face violently.


    Almost instantaneously, his delicate and beautiful face bore a fresh imprint of five fingers, its deep-set eyes shimmering with a faint redness.


    Benson looked up in astonishment at his father, whose face had turned frosty. His cold eyes resembled the harshness of winter as he dered, “You are not allowed to mention her again!”


    “Why? Why am I not allowed to mention her? It was because of you that she died. If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be dead!”


    Tears welled up in Benson’s eyes as his voice turned icy, using his father of his selfishness and indifference.


    Hearing that Benson was still resentful towards him about this matter, Rohan’s figure trembled under the light, almost losing his bnce and falling.


    Fortunately, he had a cane in his hand to barely support himself.


    “You don’t need to know why! You are my son, a member of the Miller family! So, you should follow my arrangements. Whatever I tell you to do, you just do it!” Rohan eximed.


    At this moment, Benson truly felt the irony of his existence.


    He let out a deeply disappointed smile.


    The bitterness and mockery contained in that smile made Rohan’s heart skip a beat.


    He nced at his own palm with a determined gaze.


    He didn’t regret pping Benson.


    And Bensonughed because he found his own foolishness amusing.


    From childhood to adulthood, he always walked on eggshells to please his father, studying hard, practicing the piano diligently, never daring to let himself be hindered by illness because his father liked excellent children.


    So, he practiced like crazy every day, devoting all his time to ying the piano and learning Praying Magic.


    Yet, all he received was the same persistent coldness.


    Because of him, the esteemed Rohan, the head of the Miller family, had plenty of children.


    He didn’tck a single one like Benson.


    After his mother’s death, he wandered alone for eight years.


    In all these years, he never received a single word of concern, nor a greeting. Even when they met, it was distant and perfunctorymands, nothing more.


    “I won’t go,” Benson firmly stated.


    After making his decision, he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs.


    When he reached thending by the staircase, his towering figure suddenly stopped, standing beneath the dazzling crystal chandelier.


    The ring white light shone on his face, casting a cool silvery glow, making it impossible to discern the man’s features.


    He heard a low, maic and alluring voice in his ears.


    He asked, “Father, am I truly your son?”


    After saying that, he continued walking forward, closing the door.


    He isted himself from the man downstairs, leaving no connection between them.


    That night, despite turning off the lights, Benson couldn’t fall asleep. He touched the ne his mother left behind, lost in memories.


    In the corner, the food he had bought quietlyy in its box, gradually losing its heat with the passing of time.


    It was his mother’s favorite food.


    The next day, before dawn.


    Benson went downstairs and deliberately peeked into his father’s room.


    Once again, the empty room brought him to silently weep, biting his lip.


    If his father didn’t care, why did his father take even the favorite photo of his mother?


    But if his father did care, why did his father never show concern for them?


    Was he disappointed with them, and therefore, didn’t want him as his son anymore?


    After crying for a while, Bensonposed himself and walked downstairs absentmindedly. On the long table, there was a hearty breakfast with chicken sandwiches and his favorite scallion pancakes.


    For several consecutive days, he lived in mncholy.


    This scene made the household servants unable to help but wipe away their tears, wishing Master Darren to be more epting.


    After all, he was the most talented child in the Miller family.


    If only he knew how topromise, Rohan would surely shower him with affection.


    Unfortunately, just like his mother, Master Darren would rather die than submit!