I Married an 81-Year-Old Millionaire So My Son Could Get the Surgery He Needed — But That Night, He Looked at Me and Said, “Now You’re Finally Going to Find Out What You Truly Agreed To”

“Then disappear quietly. Or I’ll have your brat taken away before the week ends.”

“Vivien, stop this,” Arthur said, his voice breaking.

“You stop, Father. You’ve humiliated this family enough.”

“I said stop—”

Arthur suddenly grabbed his chest. His face lost all color, turning pale gray as he stumbled against the desk.

“Don’t you dare touch my son!”