Chapter 1

I'm busy with a project abroad, so I leave my six-year-old son, Anthony Lynch, in the care of my father-in-law, Stephen Shenton. I send him 2,000 dollars a month for living expenses, with additional money for holidays and special occasions.

Every time Stephen video-calls me, he tells me Anthony is eating and sleeping well. On camera, there are always fish, shrimp, and beef in front of him.

So, when his homeroom teacher, Davina Walker, calls me and says Anthony fainted from hunger during PE class, my first thought is that she called the wrong number.

I fly back home overnight and rush straight to the hospital. The doctor tells me that Anthony has been suffering from long-term malnutrition. He's severely underweight for his age and is also showing serious signs of stress, with suspected autism.

Davina frowns, looking at me with a hint of reproach. "Mr. Lynch, this isn't the first time Anthony has fainted from hunger in class. He only brings one piece of cold bread to lunch every day. Sometimes, he doesn't even have that. Every time I ask him about his situation at home, he refuses to say anything."

I'm completely baffled by Davina's words. How could my son possibly be going hungry with the hefty monthly stipend I give him?

Chapter 1

After seeing off my son's homeroom teacher, Davina Walker, I returned to the hospital room.

On the hospital bed, my son, Anthony Lynch, was sleeping peacefully. His small body was nestled in the oversized hospital gown, and his lips were pale.

The doctor told me that he wasn't just suffering from low blood sugar. He was moderately anemic, had damage to his stomach lining, and several of his health indicators were below normal.

Malnutrition this severe couldn't have been caused by missing a meal or two. He had been going hungry for a long time. On top of that, the doctor found multiple old bruises on his arms, back, and thighs.

The doctor subtly asked me if Anthony had ever been physically punished. My mind went completely blank. He has always lived with my father-in-law, Stephen Shenton. Could he have been abusing Anthony?

But the moment the thought crossed my mind, I found it hard to believe.

For the past six months, I had video-called them at least three times a week. Every time the call connected, I would see a spread of hearty dishes in front of Anthony, including fish fillet, barbecue ribs, and baked shrimp.

Stephen would always point the camera at the dining table, repeatedly showing me the food as if he were afraid I couldn't see it clearly.

"Malachi, look, I made barbecue ribs for Anthony. He's a picky eater. He'll only eat food I make. Don't worry, he's been eating really well. He just finished a big plate of food."

Sometimes, I'd notice that Anthony was quieter than usual. When I asked if he was happy at school and if he missed me, he'd just look down and say nothing.

Back then, Stephen would always laugh it off and make excuses. "He's just gotten a little distant from you. You can't blame him. After all, you've been away for over half a year.

"Boys are like that. They're forgetful and easily distracted. Once you're back and spend a few days with him, he'll be fine."

Whenever that happens, I'd feel guilty and work even harder. I had done all this to provide Anthony with a better life and let him grow up without ever having to worry about anything. But it seemed that he wasn't doing so well.

I called Stephen again. The phone rang for a long time before he finally answered. "Malachi, what is it?"

It was noisy on his end, and I could faintly hear children laughing in the background. "Stephen, Anthony passed out at school. Did you know about that?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the call before Stephen's gruff voice came through. He questioned, "What? What on earth happened? How is the school looking after him? Did that PE teacher make him exercise too much?"

He quickly shifted the blame to the school, using the same excuse as before.

"Ms. Walker said Anthony only brings one piece of bread for lunch every day. Stephen, what's going on?" I asked, my voice turning colder.

Stephen was silent for a few moments before sighing. "So that's why he passed out. Malachi, you have no idea how picky Anthony has been lately. I prepare proper meals for him every day, but he refuses to take them. He insists he likes eating bread.

"And if he refuses to eat my food, I can't just force him. He'll learn to eat what I give him after he goes hungry for a couple of meals. As for the malnutrition, it's probably because he's growing too fast. Maybe his body isn't absorbing nutrients properly, which is why he's gotten so thin."

His explanation sounded perfectly reasonable, but the more I thought about it, the more holes I found in his story.

Even the pickiest six-year-old couldn't possibly survive on nothing but bread every day for months. Even if Anthony refused to bring a packed lunch, Stephen could have contacted the teachers or found a way to prepare proper food for him.

Instead, he stood by and watched as Anthony went hungry to the point of fainting. Besides, Davina had clearly said that the school contacted his grandfather first.

That meant Stephen was lying.

Chapter 2

Realizing this, I didn't immediately expose Stephen. Instead, I asked calmly, "Where's Sienna? Anthony is in the hospital, and I've called her more than a dozen times, but she hasn't answered."

"She's on a business trip to Swayton," Stephen replied quickly. "She's been busy with work. You know that. I'll take care of Anthony. Don't keep bothering her and interfering with her work."

I remained silent.

Before I called Stephen, my wife Sienna Shenton had already replied to me with a short text. "I'm in a meeting. My dad is taking care of Anthony. He'll be fine."

Even after learning that her son was in the hospital, she didn't ask how serious his condition was, nor did she mention wanting to visit. It was as though her son being in the hospital was nothing more than a trivial matter.

How had I never noticed before that she could be so indifferent toward Anthony?

"Malachi, are you still abroad?" Stephen asked tentatively.

I answered, "I'm at the hospital."

"What?" Stephen's voice suddenly changed as he asked, "You're back?"

There was no hint of surprise in his voice. Instead, he sounded almost panicked.

Before I could respond, he abruptly hung up.

Less than an hour later, the hospital room door was pushed open, and Stephen strode in. He walked up to the bed and looked down at Anthony.

He frowned as he chided, "You brat, why are you so weak? You fainted over nothing. I told you to eat an extra egg this morning, but you wouldn't listen. Is the food at school not to your liking?"

Seeing this, I couldn't help but frown. Anthony was still resting, and Stephen's voice was so loud that it was bound to wake him.

Sure enough, he slowly opened his eyes. But the moment he saw who was in front of him, his expression shifted, and he instinctively cowered under the covers.

Stephen paused, and he glanced at me diffidently. Then, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and lectured Anthony sternly, "Anthony, did you not eat the breakfast I made for you this morning? Is that why you fainted from hunger? Boys can't be so delicate!"

After he finished speaking, Anthony looked down and frowned tightly.

"He has been becoming more and more difficult," Stephen said, frowning at me. "I make him plenty of good food, but he refuses to eat it. Ask him what's wrong, and he won't say a word. I'm not getting any younger, but I'm always taking care of him, afraid he'll get hurt. And yet, this still happened."

At that, he raised his voice, sounding completely indignant. "Malachi, you don't think I haven't been taking good care of him, do you?"

I stared at him for a few seconds before shaking my head. "Of course not."

Stephen visibly relaxed and immediately started blaming the school, the teacher, and even the hospital. Yet, he never blamed himself.

On the way out of the hospital, he kept checking up on Anthony, but he remained silent the entire time.

As soon as we got home, Stephen went straight into the kitchen to make some broth. The refrigerator was packed with seafood, fresh fruits, and vegetables. There was even a half-eaten cake on the dining table.

Everything seemed normal. In fact, one could say their living conditions were quite comfortable.

Stephen brought over a bowl of chicken broth and patiently coaxed Anthony to drink it. "Hey, I've cooled it down for you. It's not hot."

If the hospital report hadn't still been in my bag, I might have wondered if I was just imagining things.

That night, as I lay beside Anthony, I gently asked him, "Anthony, tell me what you usually eat at home. Has your grandpa ever hit you?"

His body visibly stiffened at my question.

I gently patted him through his blanket and soothed him. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. I'll protect you."

But the next second, Stephen opened the door, carrying a glass of warm milk. "Malachi, you must be tired after such a long flight. Get some rest."

He put the milk on the bedside table and looked over at Anthony.

"Anthony, be a good boy and don't bother your dad," he said with a smile.

However, Anthony was trembling under the covers.

Chapter 3

I spent the entire night wide awake.

The next day, I contacted a friend who worked in home security systems. While Stephen was at the farmers' market buying groceries, I had hidden cameras installed throughout the house.

After taking care of everything, I packed my bags and put on a helpless expression. I told Stephen, "Stephen, there's been a problem with the project, so I have to go back to Lyndor tomorrow."

"Anthony just got out of the hospital, and you're leaving already?" he asked.

I looked down with a feigned look of guilt. "I don't have a choice. This project is crucial to the company over the next three years. I'll have to leave Anthony in your care again."

Stephen sighed. "Leave it to me. Anthony is my grandson. I wouldn't possibly mistreat him."

That noon, he drove me to the airport.

As I changed my shoes in the entryway, Anthony stood beside me with his head down, his little hand tightly clutching the hem of my shirt.

I got on my knees and hugged him, whispering in his ear, "I'm not leaving you behind. I'll be back soon."

Only then did he look up at me. For the first time in a long while, there was a hint of emotion in his previously empty eyes.

Once I was inside the airport, I took a photo in the departure lounge and posted it on social media with the caption, "Taking off again."

But I didn't board the plane. Instead, I slipped out through a side entrance of the airport and moved into an apartment owned by a friend.

I had already arranged everything with the overseas project team, having my assistant clock in and out as usual in my name.

At 2:00 pm, I opened the security camera app on my phone and saw Stephen standing in the living room, making a phone call. "He's gone. He really left. I watched him go through security myself. You can bring your things over now."

Half an hour later, the villa's front gate opened. A man walked in, holding the hand of a girl around seven or eight years old.

I recognized the man. He was none other than Caleb Zeller, the marketing manager at Sienna's company.

Over the past few years, he had often appeared in photos from the company's team-building events. Whenever Sienna mentioned him, she would only say that he was good at his job. He was divorced and raising his child alone, so she felt she deserved a little extra help.

And yet, Caleb took a pair of slippers from the shoe cabinet, as if he had done it countless times before. Meanwhile, the girl ran straight into the living room and tossed her schoolbag onto the sofa. "Grandpa, I'm hungry!"

"Kylie, I got you some lobster and your favorite cake," Stephen said with a broad smile.

Then, Anthony walked out of his room, hearing the commotion.

As soon as he approached the living room, the smile on Stephen's face vanished. "Who let you out of your room?"

Anthony stopped in his tracks, standing there awkwardly and fearfully.

My heart clenched. My own son was standing in his own home like an unwanted guest.

"Why are you just standing there? Don't you have any common sense? Hurry up and take Kylie's schoolbag inside!"

The girl, Kylie, kicked her schoolbag over to Anthony. "Hurry up, you loser!"

Anthony bent down to pick it up. However, Kylie shoved him. Anthony's slammed into the corner of the wall, and his face went pale with pain.

Stephen was right there, but he did nothing to stop it. He even grabbed Anthony by the ear and chided, "You can't even hold onto a schoolbag! What good are you? Just looking at your pathetic face pisses me off. No food for you today. Get back to the storage room and stay there!"

Anthony seemed to have grown accustomed to this treatment. Without saying a word, he made his way upstairs.

Caleb was eating a box of fruit. Seeing this, he leaned back on the sofa and scoffed, "Stephen, didn't we agree to send him to boarding school? It's annoying having him around the house all day."

Stephen poured him a drink. "What's the rush? Sienna said that once Malachi secures that overseas project and gets the next round of funding, we'll find a way to make him sign over his shares. For now, we still need to keep the boy around."

Caleb complained, "I just hate how unfair this is. I married into the Shenton family, and even Kylie is a Shenton, but we still have to keep our relationship hidden."

"Don't worry. Once Sienna gains control of the company, she'll divorce Malachi," Stephen quickly placated him. "By then, this villa and every penny Malachi has made will be yours and Sienna's."

Chapter 4

I sat in front of the screen, unable to process what I had just heard.

Just then, the villa door opened again, and Sienna walked in, carrying a limited-edition remote-controlled car. She asked, "Hey, did you miss your mommy?"

I saw the undisguised love and affection on her face, an expression she had never shown Anthony.

Caleb walked over and slipped an arm around her waist. Stephen smiled and offered them some fruit. The four of them sat together in the living room, looking like a real family.

Meanwhile, my son was locked in a windowless storage room.

Kylie hugged her remote-controlled car and proudly showed it off as she drove it around the room. "Mommy, isn't this the newest model? Only two kids in my class have one!"

"Of course," Sienna said sweetly, ruffling her hair. "Whatever the other kids have, my daughter should have too."

I had heard her say something similar. When Anthony turned four, he saw a classmate with a cool electric guitar. So, when he got home, he cautiously asked Sienna if he could have one too.

However, she frowned and said, "Just because other kids have something, does that mean you have to have it too? You're so young, and you've already learned to compare yourself to others. I'm worried about what you'll become."

In the end, I was the one who bought the guitar for him. Sienna even blamed me for spoiling him.

I finally understood—Sienna wasn't against spoiling children. She simply didn't want my son to be the one being spoiled.

Caleb sprawled casually on the couch and draped an arm around Sienna's shoulders. "You're not leaving tonight, are you?"

"Malachi just went abroad. He won't be back anytime soon, so I'm staying," Sienna replied, leaning into Caleb's arms.

Stephen smiled knowingly at them. "You two should really spend more time together."

If they were a couple, who was I to them? Their walking ATM?

Sienna opened her phone. "Dad, next week is your 60th birthday. Malachi transferred 30,000 dollars to me beforehand. I've already booked the hotel and informed all our relatives and friends."

Stephen was beaming with joy. "That's my daughter. Let's make it a big celebration. Let them all see how well I'm living."

But Caleb suddenly asked, "Will Malachi return?"

"Work is all he cares about," Sienna scoffed.

She continued, "Besides, he just left. There's no way he'd fly all the way back for a birthday party. Once the overseas project goes through, the company's valuation will at least double. Then, I'll find a chance to get him to sign some financing paperwork and hand over his voting rights.

"Once the company is mine, he won't get to decide whether this marriage ends."

I turned off the surveillance feed and sat motionless in the dark for a long time. I didn't know when this marriage had started to fall apart, but I knew that this wasn't the time to rush back and confront them.

Getting angry would only alert them. Evidence was what I needed to fight back.

Over the next two days, I contacted a lawyer, Finn Cadwell. He was a well-known family and corporate lawyer in the country.

I told him, "I want a divorce. I want to fight for custody of my son and recover the marital assets that were transferred away."

Finn told me that the footage alone wouldn't be enough. We needed bank statements, the company's financial records, and proof of Kylie's identity. So I contacted a trusted insider at the company and secretly obtained the company's financial records from the past three years.

What I found was even more shocking than I had imagined.

Over the past three years, Sienna had transferred more than 14 million dollars to a company controlled by Caleb, disguising the transfers as payments for marketing, client relations, and consulting services.

Most of the 2,000 dollars I gave Stephen each month was spent on Kylie.

Even the down payment on Caleb's three-million-dollar apartment had come from our joint account.

And that wasn't all. I also found Kylie's birthday certificate. She had been born one year before Sienna and I got married.

Back then, Sienna claimed she was going abroad for a year of intensive training. I worked day and night back home to support her. But it turned out she had gone overseas to secretly mother another man's child.

I began putting everything into motion. I changed the access permissions for the company's core systems, applied for a freeze on our assets, and arranged for a psychologist to meet with Anthony.

Meanwhile, I had someone prepare a special birthday gift in secret. On the day of Stephen's birthday party, I returned to the country early. The banquet hall, where each table was worth 3,000 dollars, was packed with guests.

Stephen was wearing a custom-made designer suit and a luxury watch, basking in the compliments of every guest.

That was when I pushed open the doors to the banquet hall. Two staff members followed behind me, carrying a huge basket. There was no gold or jewelry inside. Only 120 cold pieces of bread.