Reborn Heiress: Married To My Ex-Husband's Rival
Chapter 105 I’m Your Grandpa’s Scandal

Chapter 105: Chapter 105 I’m Your Grandpa’s Scandal

Kingsley drove through the quiet streets alone. It was past midnight, and the road was long and quiet. He made a decision and followed the route on the map Riley Drake had sent. It led to a large, abandoned warehouse near the old train yard, far from town.

His chest was tight the whole drive. He didn’t trust Riley, but he had no choice. Jasmine, Nicole, and his baby—his family—were in danger. He couldn’t risk their lives by bringing backup. At least not yet.

He parked the car just outside the gate. He got out, his boots crunching over dry gravel. He walked to the large metal doors and stopped when two men stepped out of the shadows. Both had guns. One had a scar across his face.

"Name?" one of them asked.

"Kingsley Elm," he replied, his voice flat and calm.

The two looked at each other. "He’s clear," the man with the scar said.

They opened the warehouse door slowly. Kingsley stepped inside. The place smelled like rust and dust. His eyes moved quickly, scanning the space.

But before he could take two steps, a hard blow landed at the back of his head and everything went black.

He landed with a thud on the hard ground.

—

—

When Kingsley opened his eyes again, everything hurt. His head throbbed, his arms ached, and there was a foul smell in the air—blood, mold, and smoke.

He blinked, struggling to adjust to the dim light. He was in a different warehouse, much older than the last one. A few flickering lights illuminated the room.

His wrists were tied tight above his head, the rope was attached to a metal hook on the ceiling.

His feet were on the floor, but his body slumped. He was shirtless. His pants were soaked at the knees, maybe from the wet concrete.

Suddenly, slow footsteps echoed through the space.

A tall man walked toward him—broad shoulders, strong build. He wore dark jeans, a heavy coat with the sleeves rolled up, revealing arms covered in tattoos. His hair was grey at the sides. His eyes were sharp, cold, and dangerous.

He was older. Maybe in his fifties. But his presence was loud, powerful. Dangerous.

"Awake already?" he asked, dragging a chair and sitting down in front of Kingsley. "I thought you’d sleep longer."

Kingsley coughed. "Where... where are they?"

The man smiled. He pulled out a thick gold chain from his pocket and lit a cigarette that dangled from his lips.

The smell added to the already foul air. He took a long drag, then slowly blew the smoke right into Kingsley’s face.

"You don’t recognize me," the man said calmly. "But I know all about you."

Kingsley squinted. "Riley Drake..."

The man chuckled. "Ah. So you’ve heard the name."

"I don’t know you," Kingsley said, weak but firm.

Riley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "No. But our blood knows each other," he said with a smirk. "Tell me, Kingsley, do you know about your grandfather’s... sins?"

Kingsley frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Riley stood up, walked slowly around Kingsley, his boots echoing on the concrete.

"Greg Elm," Riley said, his voice was low. "Your grandfather. The perfect businessman with clean image. Had a lovely wife and a big house. Loyal family. But behind closed doors... he was a monster."

"You’re lying," Kingsley grimaced, shaking his head.

Riley came back into view, still smiling. "Your grandfather got his maid pregnant. Her name was Leta. My mother."

Kingsley froze.

Riley’s face twisted into something darker now.

"He told her to get rid of me. Told her to disappear so no one would ever know. She ran away before anyone could silence her. She raised me in the slums. We barely survived. I watched her die with nothing. While your family grew rich."

Kingsley stared at him, breath shallow. "You’re saying... you’re my—"

"I’m your uncle," Riley interrupted, eyes gleaming. "Greg’s bastard. Your father’s half-brother. Born in shame and hidden like trash."

Kingsley’s body tensed. "I didn’t know. None of us knew—"

"Exactly!" Riley snapped, walking forward fast. "None of you knew because he made sure of it! He erased me like I was nothing. Like my mother was just a stain."

He leaned in closer, cigarette still burning. "So now I’ve come back. To erase every single one of you."

Kingsley shook his head. "Why hurt innocent people? The baby, Nicole... they don’t even know who Greg was!"

Riley stepped back, hands in his coat pockets.

"It’s not about who knows. It’s about who exists." His voice was cold. "I made a promise at my mother’s grave. I told her I’d make Greg feel what it’s like to lose everything."

He paused. "And guess what, Kingsley?" he whispered. "You’re the start."

Kingsley’s voice broke. "You’re sick."

"No," Riley said, voice calm now. "I’m a product of your family’s evil."

He looked up at the ceiling.

"Now you know the truth. Sit tight. You’ll be here for a while." He turned and walked away.

Kingsley closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell fast. His mind raced. He couldn’t believe it.

He had an uncle he never knew existed.

"Bring her out," Riley Drake said sharply, not even bothering to look back.

One of his men left the room through a side door. For a moment, all Kingsley could hear was his own breathing. The room smelled of sweat, metal, and dried blood.

Then he heard the wheels, Kingsley’s head snapped up. A wheelchair was being rolled into the room. And in it was Jasmine.

She was strapped tightly to the chair. Her wrists and ankles were bound with thick leather straps. Her hair was messy, her face pale and tear-streaked. Her lips were trembling.

But what made Kingsley’s stomach drop wasn’t the bruises on her arms or the fear in her eyes.

It was the device strapped to the bottom of the wheelchair.

A bomb.

A red light blinking slowly beneath the seat.

Jasmine saw him. And the moment she did, she broke down. "Kingsley!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Oh my God... no, no."

Kingsley’s breath hitched. He fought the ropes, growling through clenched teeth. "Jasmine!"

He twisted in the chains, his muscles screaming in protest, blood leaking from the fresh wounds on his back.

Jasmine sobbed harder. "They said they’d kill you... they said if I screamed, they’d hurt the baby—"

Mr. Riley strolled back into view, grinning like a maniac. He walked slowly toward Jasmine, hands in his coat pockets like he had all the time in the world.

"You two are quite the pair," he said. "So much love. It’s disgusting."

He stopped beside the wheelchair and reached down, letting his fingers trail across Jasmine’s bare shoulder.

She flinched, turning her head away in disgust.

Kingsley roared in hatred and bubbling anger. "Don’t you touch her! Get your filthy hands off my woman!"

He yanked hard against the chains. His wrists tore open more but he didn’t care.

Riley looked up slowly at Kingsley, then smirked. "How do you think it’ll feel," he said casually, "to know that once you’re gone, she’ll be my little plaything??"