Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover

Grant took the climb up Emerald Peak one slow step at a time.

At the summit sat Zenheart Temple, a place that had stood for over a century. The path was so steep and winding, it took nearly two hours just to reach the top. Hardly anyone ever made the trek. In most people's minds, the temple was nothing more than a forgotten ruin, its incense long since faded away.

It had been years since Grant last came here. Not since the day he started pretending to be disabled. For two whole years, even after his legs had healed, he stayed in his wheelchair, hiding the truth from everyone. Part of it was self- punishment. But there was another reason, maybe even more important—he just couldn't bring himself to climb this mountain, couldn't face the man waiting at the top.

But today was different.

Today, Grant climbed all the way to the summit.

The temple wasn't as abandoned as people thought. Sure, it was quiet, the incense thin, but it was nothing like the rumors. The buildings were still beautiful, all sweeping roofs and painted beams, the corners hung with brass bells that danced in the breeze, their clear notes echoing softly down the mountain like a distant, peaceful chant.

Inside the main hall, the golden Buddha sat serene and dignified, its compassionate gaze watching over everything. Wisps of incense drifted up from the altar, filling the air with a gentle, calming scent.

A man in monk's robes knelt on a cushion before the altar, hands pressed together, head bowed in silent prayer.noveldrama

Grant stood behind him, waiting.

Only after the monk finished did Grant quietly call out, "Father."

The man didn't open his eyes. He stayed kneeling, rolling a string of prayer beads through his fingers, one by one.

"Why are you here today? Your legs are they better?" he finally asked, his voice steady.

Grant knelt down on the cushion beside him, bowing low. "Father, I have something I need to tell you."

"Go on," the monk answered, calm as ever.

Grant hesitated, searching for the right words. Then, finally, he told his father everything Taylor had said-every last detail. When he finished, he stayed kneeling, head still lowered.

His voice shook. "Father, I never

meant to give up, or turn my back on

our family. I just wanted to tell you

the truth. Whether we keep going. with our revenge, or start searching for answers-I'll do whatever you decide."

Suddenly, the prayer beads snapped in his father's hands.

Grant's heart dropped. He pressed his forehead to the floor, not daring to look up.

Out in the world, he was ruthless,

feared, a master of shadows. But in

front of his father, he was just a broken-down boy, shaped and scarred by discipline and pain. The

quieter his father got, the more terrifying it felt.

But this time, instead of anger, his father simply stood and reached out a hand to help Grant up.

He spoke softly. "I know you're tired. I'm the one who pulled you into all this suffering. If this really is just a misunderstanding, then that's the best news we could hope for."

Grant stayed on his knees, staring up at his father's calm, unreadable face. He'd expected these words, but somehow, hearing them so quietly was even scarier than any outburst.

He remembered the first time he'd

ever spoken out, years ago. He'd asked why he had to bear the family's sins, why he couldn't just live a normal life. For that, he'd been beaten until he could barely breathe.

After that, he'd never dared talk about giving up the family's mission. This was only the second time.

But today, everything felt different-like something had shifted for good.