The Fake Son Is A Billionaire Young Master

Accident As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow across the horizon, Jeff sat silently in the passenger seat of the car, taking in the passing scenery.

After along day, his thoughts were still occupied by what had happened at the gambling boxing site. He couldn't help but wonder about Emily's presence there, and his curiosity finally got the best of him.

Jeff hesitantly spoke up, turning to face Professor Paul, who was preoccupied with finding his way back to the City.

"Professor, if you do not mind my asking, how did you come to know Emily? And why was she at that place, of all places?" Professor Paul's eyes briefly shifted

from the road to Jeff before returning his attention to the task at hand.

There was a moment of silence, as if the professor was contemplating how much he should reveal. Eventually, he let out a deep exhale before responding, "I haven't known Emily for long, Jeff. We met at the very place we are returning from - the gambling boxing site." Jeff's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, so you knew Emily before all of this? How come I've never heard of her?" A small smile tugged at the corner of Professor Paul's lips. "Emily has her reasons, Jeff. Reasons that are not mine to ask or share. She's a young woman with a story, just like anyone else."

Noes | "She has a story? Isn't she from one of good families in Starry City? Are you | hiding..." — Before Jeff could further press for answers, a deafening screech filled the air. Out of nowhere, an enormous truck hurtled towards them from the opposite direction, its headlights blinding them.

"Oh sh*t!" Instinctively, Professor Paul swerved the car to the right, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

Their car spun out of control as the truck's side clipped the back, sending metal scraping against metal and tires screeching.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as the car twirled and twisted,

unable to regain stability. Panic washed over Jeff as he frantically clung to his seat, bracing for impact. | Finally, with a nauseating jolt, the car came to a crashing halt against a towering tree. Silence descended upon the scene, broken only by the steady hum of the engine.

The airbags deflated with a hiss, releasing the smell of burnt rubber.

As the dust settled, Jeff struggled to regain his senses. He turned his head to check on Professor Paul, who appeared shaken but remarkably unharmed. "Are you alright?" "I think I'm injured but it's not bad." With a sigh of relief, Jeff unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly climbed out of the

battered car, Surveying the wreckage, he noticed the truck that had caused the accident had also veered off the road and collided with a nearby ditch.

Limping towards Professor Paul, who was now inspecting the damage to their car, Jeff asked, "Are you sure you are alright, Professor?" Professor Paul nodded, his voice laced with a hint of disbelief. "I'm fine, Jeff.

Just a bit shaken. Thank goodness we managed to avoid a direct hit." "Jeff!" Professor Paul called frantically. "Blood! You are bleeding!" When Jeff looked down, he was shocked to see that his shirt was covered in blood. For a moment, he

forgot to breath and that was when he felt the sharp pain.

Gently, he crouched down to the floor, breathing heavily while Professor Paul immediately searched for his phone.

Duane stormed into the grand study of his father's estate, his anger burning hotter than the flickering candles adorning the room.

Old Master Malfoy sat in his aged armchair, his eyes fixed upon a book.

As his son entered, his brow furrowed in concern.

"What's the meaning of this outburst, Duane?" Old Master Malfoy asked, his voice calm but laced with a hint of authority.

With annoyance written all over his face, Duane paced back and forth.

"Father, I just heard the news. Instead of selecting a department that could truly help the Malfoy family, Jeff has opted for traditional medicine. How can he be so blind to his responsibilities?!" Old Master Malfoy raised one eyebrow, studying his son intently.

"Responsibilities? You are talking about responsibilities?" He asked with disbelief. "Duane, your anger blinds you to the truth. Jeff is simply following his own path." Duane scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "His 'own path'? What good will that do for the Malfoy Group?" The old Man shook his head, disappointment in his eyes. "You're

being irresponsible and insensible, Duane. This anger does nothing to help the situation. Jeff is not at fault here." Duane's anger flared even brighter, his face reddening as he balled his fists.

"How dare you say that, Father? I've done everything I can to protect the Malfoy name, to secure our future! You brought him, Father. Ask him to change his course or I say all these directly to him." Old Master Malfoy sighed, his gaze fixed upon his son, lines of worry etched across his aged face. "Duane, you were supposed to care for your child, to accept him back into our family after all these years. Instead, you've pushed him away." Just as those words hung heavy in the

air, Old Master Malfoy's cellphone rang, breaking the tension in the room.

He hastily picked it up, his withered fingers fumbling with the device.

Chris' panicked voice echoed through the speaker.

"Master Malfoy, it's Chris. I'm so sorry to inform you, but Young Master Jeff has been in an accident. It's not looking good." Duane's heart skipped a beat as he listened to those words, his anger now overshadowed by panic. Old Master Malfoy's face contorted with worry, his eyes widening in shock.

"What accident," Old Master Malfoy muttered, his voice barely audible. He looked up at Duane, his gaze full of unspoken remorse. "We must leave immediately."