My billionaire father left me his entire fortune, but all I inherited was a junkyard. I confronted the lawyer in disbelief, only to be coldly informed, “Mr. Shaw, you voluntarily signed away your right to inheritance.” The next second, I received news that my illegitimate younger brother had blacklisted me from every industry. Suddenly, everyone piled on, scrambling to curry favor with Austin Heuston. Furious, I stormed to the conglomerate’s headquarters, only to find Austin Heuston sitting in my chair, soft moans of intimacy echoing from beneath his desk. “Brother, do you like the gift I gave you?” Austin provocatively pulled Chelah Vance onto his lap, roaring with laughter: “I’ll gladly accept both the company and the lady. You can spend the rest of your life with that pile of scrap metal!” Watching my wife willingly wrap her arms around Austin Heuston’s neck, my fury reached its peak, then strangely cooled. What those two scumbags didn’t know was that the junkyard held the billionaire’s secret. Whoever owned the junkyard was the true heir to the fortune. 1 Three years ago, Chelah’s mother was involved in a car accident. The culprit fled, fearing consequences, and medical bills soared to a staggering one and a half million dollars. Desperate, Chelah Vance was forced to sell herself to save her mother. It was her filial piety that moved me, and I took on all her mother's medical expenses. After we married, I doted on Chelah, turning her into a refined, delicate princess, envied by all. It wasn't an exaggeration to say Chelah had been completely transformed; no one would have guessed she’d almost fallen into a life of infamy. But just seven days after my father's passing, my wife got involved with my illegitimate younger brother. My eyes blazing crimson, I stared at the two intertwined figures, my nails digging deep into my flesh. I spoke each word distinctly: “Chelah Vance, I want a divorce!” The moment the words left my lips, they burst into laughter as if I’d told the greatest joke, tears streaming down their faces. Chelah didn’t even glance at me, eagerly kissing Austin Heuston. After a long moment, she turned her head mockingly, still looking unsatisfied. “Sterling Shaw, you have to be married to get a divorce. We have nothing between us, so what are you divorcing me for?” Understanding Chelah’s implication, my heart sank. I pulled out the marriage certificate I always carried, about to prove her wrong. “Idiot. It was just an act with an actress, and you actually fell for it.” Chelah snatched the certificate, tearing it to shreds in a few swift motions, then casually tossed the pieces on me. “Since the cards are on the table, I’ll stop pretending. Austin and I registered our marriage ages ago. What you have is just a fake I bought online for three bucks.” The certificate, carefully preserved for three years, cherished and spotless, instantly became confetti, scattering across the floor. My wife, with whom I had shared a bed for three years, had actually deceived me with a fake document! Their supposed animosity towards each other was all an act for my benefit! I felt as if I’d been brutally slapped, my face burning red. After savoring my expression enough, Austin Heuston patted Chelah’s butt with satisfaction, grinning widely. “Chelah, I owe my success today all to you. Tell me how you want to celebrate later, and I’m all yours.” These words hit me like a thunderbolt, instantly blanketing my mind. No wonder, no wonder three days ago, Chelah, usually so reserved, was suddenly incredibly passionate in bed, clinging to me again and again. While I was groggy with sleep, she’d playfully mentioned she’d fallen in love with a house. I signed without suspicion, never imagining I was being manipulated into waiving my inheritance! “Beat it, unless you want to watch a live show.” Austin Heuston looked down at me, waving his hand as if shooing a dog, his hand playfully caressing Chelah’s lower back. I couldn't take it anymore. I roared, lunging forward and landing a fierce punch on Austin Heuston’s face. Austin Heuston was hit squarely, screaming as he tumbled to the ground. “Ah!” Chelah’s face paled. She shrieked curses, grabbing my hand. “You bastard! I treated you well, and this is how you repay me?!” I backhanded Chelah across the face. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek swelling instantly. Hearing my words, Chelah’s pupils contracted sharply, her eyes burning with hatred. She was about to demand an explanation. Just then, Austin Heuston recovered, pointing at me and yelling furiously. “Are you all trying to get fired?! Where are the security guards?!” A rush of hurried footsteps. Over a dozen burly security guards poured in, surrounding me. I struggled desperately, but they outnumbered me. I was pinned firmly to the ground. “Smack! Smack! Smack!” The slaps grew heavier, landing hard on my face. Austin Heuston only stopped when his palms ached from hitting me. Everyone gasped, wincing at my disfigured face. “Throw him out and let him fend for himself! Anyone who dares to help him is going against Heuston Industries!” 2 I was roughly thrown to the ground, the friction of my skin against shattered rock sending waves of pain through my body. Every breath was agony. One man, leading the charge, strode up and kicked me squarely in the chest. I groaned, nearly spitting blood from the impact. Through a haze of pain, I heard sycophantic flattery from above. “Mr. Heuston, a trash-picking lowlife daring to lay hands on you? He’s got a death wish.” I looked up to see none other than my deputy, Mark Randysek! He bowed and scraped behind Austin Heuston, pointing an accusatory finger at me and cursing, as if we were sworn enemies. My employees, who used to treat me with utmost respect, were now vying to curse me, afraid of being left behind. “Yeah, who doesn’t know Heuston Industries is Mr. Heuston’s domain now? Since when do trash pickers get to enter the corporate gates?” “I’ve always disliked him, putting on airs with Mr. Heuston. He totally deserved that beating!” “If you ask me, Mr. Heuston inheriting the leadership is what everyone wants. The loser should just stay put and not try to cause trouble.” I abruptly looked up, my gaze sweeping over the circle of people, my heart utterly cold. Since taking office, I had reformed policies, implemented weekends off, and strictly adhered to an eight-hour workday. Company salaries and benefits had significantly increased. Countless employees had come to me, expressing their fervent gratitude. Especially my deputy, Mark Randysek. I had personally promoted him from a penniless, clueless young man to a position earning over 100,000 a month. But now that I was out of favor, the employees who were once so grateful to me instantly turned. Everyone was eager to kick me while I was down, all to curry favor with Austin Heuston. I endured the intense pain and slowly stood up, giving everyone one last look before turning to leave. The mocking, scornful gazes behind me felt like poisoned needles piercing my skin. I walked step by step back to the junkyard Austin Heuston had discarded me into, my pockets empty, unable to even afford a taxi. My accounts had been frozen, all my assets seized. With Austin Heuston’s blacklist, no one dared to help me. It wasn't until my feet were bleeding that I finally reached the junkyard Austin Heuston had contemptuously cast aside. The place reeked, piled high with all sorts of scrap metal, enough to make anyone keep their distance. But only I knew that what Dad had hidden here before his death was enough to turn my fortunes around. I set down roots in the junkyard, spending my days collecting scrap. Meanwhile, Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance almost daily dominated headlines, flaunting their love. While I ate steamed buns with thin porridge, Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance flew to the States for a truffle chocolate ice cream. While I bought nine-dollar, free-shipping T-shirts on the internet, Austin Heuston lavished thousands on opening a clothing company, just for Chelah Vance to pick clothes from. While I was stared at and whispered about in public, Austin Heuston frequently appeared with Chelah Vance at elite galas, praised by all. Reporters relentlessly disparaged me, using my disheveled appearance to highlight their glamour. I remained unperturbed, settling into life at the junkyard. A month later, I unearthed a filthy vase from deep within the rubbish piles, instantly overjoyed. I hastily wiped away the surface grime, revealing intricate patterns underneath. Just as I was carefully putting the vase away, a burlap sack suddenly dropped from above. 3 Caught off guard, I was covered, stumbled, and fell to the ground. The next second, punches rained down on me. I groaned in pain, clutching the vase tightly, refusing to let go. Time ticked by, and my breath grew weaker. The attacker took the opportunity, violently tearing off the sack, trying to snatch the vase from my hands. I let out a low growl like a cornered beast, finding strength from somewhere, and bit hard into the person's hand. “Ah!” Mark Randysek’s face instantly twisted in pain. He forcefully pulled his hand back, a piece of flesh actually torn off by my bite. Mark Randysek instantly erupted in fury, roaring at the people beside him. “Damn it! I’m going to beat him to death today! Grab him now!” Hearing this, two men efficiently seized me, holding me firmly. Mark Randysek cursed, then violently kicked my knee. With a sickening “snap,” I felt my bone shatter. My knees slammed hard against the rough stones, making a cringe-inducing sound. My teeth chattered from the pain, cold sweat drenched my body, leaving me feeling like I’d just been pulled from water. “Mark Randysek, I don’t understand why you would do this to me.” My face was pale, my lips trembling, as I painfully forced out these words. “You only have yourself to blame.” Mark Randysek looked at me like I was a freak, as if baffled by such a foolish question, explaining as if it were obvious. “Blame yourself for being useless, for not being able to hold onto your inheritance.” “I went against Mr. Heuston so many times for you, all because I wanted a promotion and a good life.” “Now Mr. Heuston is in power. If I don’t show him my loyalty, how am I supposed to get by in the conglomerate?!” Under the intense pain, my consciousness gradually blurred. In a haze, I recalled Mark Randysek's indignant expression when he first learned of Austin Heuston’s existence. “Damn it! That bastard illegitimate son killed the old lady and still has the nerve to come to the company? Don’t worry, boss, I won’t let him off easy. I’ll make him pay for you!” After that, Mark Randysek and Austin Heuston were at loggerheads. He cursed Austin Heuston’s dubious origins more than once, humiliating him in public. I thought Mark Randysek was fiercely loyal to me, and I was deeply touched, treating him even more like a younger brother. “Well, well, the quality isn’t bad. Hoping to make a comeback with this, huh? Good thing Mr. Heuston is prescient and gave me this chance to redeem myself.” A triumphant, boastful voice reached my ears, and I jolted awake. The vase had been snatched by Mark Randysek at some point. “No!” I watched the vase teetering precariously in Mark Randysek’s hand, reaching out fearfully. “Letting you off for old times’ sake isn’t out of the question.” Mark Randysek chuckled, unconcealed malice swirling in his eyes, feigning understanding as he suggested. “How about you eat this piece of trash, and I’ll give the vase back to you?” I lowered my head, gritting my teeth, my body involuntarily trembling. In a matter of seconds, Mark Randysek lost patience. He abruptly grabbed the vase, clearly about to smash it down hard. “I’ll eat it.” I squeezed out two words through clenched teeth, my hands trembling as I picked up the foul-smelling garbage, forcing myself to swallow it despite the nausea. The surroundings immediately erupted in boisterous laughter that almost tore the roof off. Mark Randysek stifled his laughter, recording the video. The next instant, with a “smash,” Mark Randysek flicked his wrist, and the vase fell to the ground, shattering into pieces. “Oops, my bad, it slipped.” My eyes burned with fury. I was about to lunge at Mark Randysek to fight him to the death. Mark Randysek easily kicked me, exhausted, to the ground. “Mr. Heuston and Ms. Vance’s wedding reception is in seven days. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” I lay on the ground, gasping for breath like a dead dog, as Mark Randysek knelt down and slapped a beautifully designed invitation onto my face, threatening me. “Come on, the billionaire’s son is eating trash. Even dogs wouldn’t eat what the billionaire’s son is eating. We won’t compete with the billionaire’s son; let him eat his fill. We’re going for a fancy dinner!” It wasn't until their figures completely disappeared that my eyes suddenly narrowed. The scattered vase shards lay nearby, but I didn't spare them a single glance. Instead, I carefully felt my pocket. 4 Late at night, in the quiet of my junkyard, I finally saw what was inside, my eyes widening in disbelief. A plan quietly formed in my mind. I hadn't been idle these seven days. Chelah Vance's hateful gaze from the office that day had haunted me. Armed with the secret my father left behind, I used my last connections to investigate an old case, and indeed, I uncovered something interesting. On the day of the wedding, I pushed open the grand hall doors. The moment I stepped inside, the elegantly dressed elites wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Where did this beggar come from? This isn’t a soup kitchen. Security, get him out of here!” “Oh, can’t you recognize him? That’s the famous Sterling Shaw. He’s the billionaire’s son, but now he looks like a stray dog. How pathetic.” I offered a slight smile, ignoring them, and strode to a corner to await the ceremony. Chelah Vance, arm in arm with Austin Heuston, came to greet me. After a few months, her belly was noticeably swollen. Not seeing me in a state of disarray, Chelah seemed a little disappointed. But then, remembering something, she defiantly puffed out her chest, sneering triumphantly. “Sterling Shaw, I’m pregnant. Austin isn’t useless like you. I spent three years with you, and my belly never made a sound.” Even though my heart had died, Chelah’s words still cut a gash in it, throbbing painfully. The night Chelah and I consummated our marriage, she tearfully confessed that she had a naturally thin uterine wall and couldn't conceive. I didn't blame her for hiding it; I treated her even better. But as time passed, the gossip grew more intense. Many long-tongued women called Chelah a barren hen, and a stream of girls were sent to my bed. Afraid Chelah would feel burdened, I took the blame, announcing publicly that I had azoospermia, shifting the blame to myself. That finally quelled the rumors. Recalling our handful of intimate moments over three years, I clenched my fists tightly. It turned out Chelah wasn’t naturally cold or unloving; she was saving herself for Austin Heuston. Even her infertility was a lie; she just didn’t want to bear my child! I lowered my head, concealing the turbulent storm within, my teeth digging into my flesh. “Sterling Shaw, what happened three years ago should finally be settled.” Seeing that I wasn’t resisting, Chelah "hmphed" disinterestedly. She paid no mind to my reaction, dropped her statement, and turned to leave. I didn’t miss the hint of malicious satisfaction in Chelah’s voice, a sense of long-awaited revenge. A bad premonition arose. The wedding began. Austin Heuston and Chelah Vance walked onto the stage under everyone’s gaze, the atmosphere electric. Just as the two were about to exchange rings, Chelah suddenly snatched the microphone, her eyes brimming with tears, and shouted at me with hatred. “Sterling Shaw, three years ago you hit my mother with your car and then used your power to escape jail time.” “I've bided my time for three years, and finally I’ve brought you down. I’m going to make you rot in prison!” This bombshell news immediately caused an uproar, murmurs filling the venue. “What?! Sterling Shaw helping Chelah Vance’s mother at the hospital was even in the local charity news! Was it all an act?!” Almost the next second, police burst through the doors, pulling out handcuffs without a word, ready to arrest and convict me. “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on me!” I spoke with a deep, calm authority. Chelah immediately screamed at me like a madwoman. “Do you think you’re still the billionaire’s son?! Your dad is dead! Now Austin is the master of the Shaw family!” I calmly raised the object in my hand, speaking each word distinctly. “My father only had one son. Since when can a stranger with no blood relation waltz into someone else’s house and claim to be the master?”
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