Page 47 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

I didn’t ask how Dannie acquired such a house. Was it legitimate and legal? I didn’t want to know then, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know now.

The van moved away from us and was pulled into the compound of a gated estate, stopping in front of an imposing wooden entrance framed by sleek black and honey-colored granite walls.

“Come inside,” Dannie said, his voice smooth as he led the way, past the grand doors into the house. The interior hadn’t changed much—it was exactly how I remembered it.

The mansion felt like a scaled-down, contemporary take on Buckingham Palace. Every room here was curated with a different style, each one more lavish than the last. From the Ming dynasty antiques to sleek modern furnishing, the decor was stunning clash of styles that somehow worked together.

“Wow,” Wendy murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the opulence. “I’ve seen a lot of mansions, but this one… I can’t put my finger on it.”

That was exactly how I felt the first time I came here. I’d grown up in large houses, but this place was something else. It had the same commanding presence as the British Museum—like it didn’t just represent wealth, but also history and privilege.

“This house was once owned by a lord.” Dannie said casually, as if that explained everything.

“Like a British lord? From Bridgerton?” Wendy’s voice held a teasing lilt.

I couldn’t remember if Dannie had told me that detail before. Maybe I’d been too overwhelmed, too busy trying to absorb, to soak in every inch of the place, knowing even then that it wasn’t the kind of thing I’d forget.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Man, that’s so hot,” Wendy sighed, leaning toward me with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow. “What? you find British men hot now?”

“Well, for a British lord?” She fanned herself theatrically.

The open floor plan of the house made it easy to see almost everything from the entrance. To the right was an expansive living area with a plush leather sofas and a grand piano gleaming beneath an enormous crystal chandelier. On the left, a sweeping staircase curved elegantly toward the second floor. Further back, the dining room stretched out, with a sleek, modern kitchen tucked discreetly beside it. Two doors lined the far wall—one leading to the main kitchen, the other to the back garden.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the entire left side of the house, overseeing the swimming pool and a pool house that looked more luxurious than most people’s actual home.

We ended up in the dining area, which was furnished with understated elegance. The Ming dynasty-style pieces contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the rest of the house, but they fit the room perfectly. At the center stood a massive, round table with a lazy Susan large enough to hold a feast.

Dannie lowered himself into a chair facing the front door, a position of authority, then he gestured for me to take the seat next to him.

“Not here.” Dannie’s sharp, sudden tone made Wendy jump as her hand brushed the back of the chair next to his. “Over there, next to June.”

Dannie’s grandma descended from the staircase, poised and elegant in a champagne-colored day dress. Beside her walked a young woman in her late teens, her dark locks cut into a sleek bob. As soon as they reached the bottom step, Dannie moved quickly to his grandmother’s side, taking her other arm—the one not already held by the young woman.

Wendy had just settled herself comfortably next to me. I stood up but remained beside my chair. The old lady only had two arms, and a third person wasn’t going to make her walk any faster or steadier, so I stayed where I was.

“Oh, oh…” Dannie’s grandmother broke into a warm smile as she reached me, wrapping me in a surprisingly firm embrace.

“So happy. So happy,” she repeated, her voice soft but bright with emotion.

“Hey, you don’t remember me?” The young woman stepped forward, pulling me into a hug I couldn’t refuse. I searched my memory, but nothing came up. “It’s me. Laura.”

“Laura? The little girl?”

Ten years ago, she had been just a little girl. That was why I couldn’t place her. She was the girl who used to follow Dannie’s grandmother around. The girl his grandmother had insisted his mother adopt after Dannie’s sister died in the incident with his father, hoping Laura could be a replacement daughter. Sadly, it hadn’t worked. His mother couldn’t bear the grief and took her own life soon after.

“Lola, cha, cha.” Grandma instructed, her voice gentle but firm. With swift, practiced movements, Laura performed an intricate tea ritual, gracefully pouring the steaming liquid into tiny, delicate cups before serving each of us.

“Laura learned how to make tea from a Sifu in Hang Zhou,” Dannie explained, downing his cup in one smooth motion. “Now Grandma has to have it every day.”

“Hmm, not bad,” he mused, setting the cup back down. “But the fragrance is lacking. What tea is it?”

“Oolong,” Laura answered, her tone respectful.

“Where’s the Pu-er I bought?”