Falling For the Slum Billionaire
On Christmas Eve, the mansion blazed with light.
The old tycoon stood at the center of the grand hall, swirling his wine glass, laughing arrogantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, please admire—the diamond necklace of Queen Mary, appraised at thirty-five million dollars." The guests held their breath, cameras flashing wildly.
Only Kyle let out a cold laugh.
He slowly removed his gloves and stepped forward, voice sharp as a blade: "Fake. My father swapped it with the real one."
Chaos erupted in the room.
"Who the hell are you?" A man beside the tycoon shot to his feet, eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you spout nonsense here?"
Before the words fully faded, a gun cocked.
Kyle drew his pistol, aiming straight between the man's eyes. "I said—it belongs to my family."
Panic exploded. Women screamed, men roared. Bodyguards rushed in but dared not approach.
At that moment, the main doors crashed open.
Snow-laden wind howled into the hall as an elegantly dressed elder strode in, silver-haired, his gaze like tempered steel.
"Enough," he boomed.
Silence fell instantly.
"Essex Smith?" someone whispered the name in trembling awe—the heir of the Smith family, vanished for twenty years.
The elder ignored him, his eyes fixed on the necklace, filled with pain and hatred.
Then he turned to Kyle, voice hoarse. "You've finally come back."
In the next second, he removed his wristwatch, revealing an old scar beneath—its pattern matching perfectly with the mark on Kyle's palm.
"Blood recognizes blood. The heirloom returns to its master." Essex slowly knelt, holding up the family genealogy toward Kyle. "Young master... we've waited for you twenty years."
Truth shattered the lies.
And Kyle, gazing upon the crowd who once trampled his dignity, gently tightened his finger on the trigger—
"The next one who lies," he said with a cold smile, "won't be so lucky to miss."