492: Chapter 487 Then let's start with his son.

On the distant overpass, traffic flowed like a tapestry, surging silently.

"The first time I realized Andrew wanted to kill me was when I was twelve years old."

Kevin suddenly spoke, his voice very light, as if afraid of disturbing the night.

Shen Yan didn't look at him, just swirled the wine glass in his hand.

"That year, Father gave me a Shetland pony named 'Lightning'."

"I loved it very much. I fed it personally every day and brushed its coat."

"Andrew didn't like it. He thought that kind of horse was for children and was very embarrassing."

"One day, I went to see 'Lightning' and found it lying in the stable, covered in blood, with one leg broken."

"Nearby, there was a bloody baseball bat—it belonged to Andrew."

Kevin's knuckles were white from clenching.

"I went to find Father and tearfully told him everything."

"Guess what he said?"

Kevin let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"He said Andrew was just a child and didn't know any better. He said it was just a horse, and he would buy me another one."

"He didn't even reprimand Andrew once."

"From that day on, I knew."

"In this family, no matter how much grievance I suffered, no one would stand up for me."

"My existence was only to highlight Andrew's excellence."

"I was his shadow."

Shen Yan took a sip of wine.

"So, you just endured it all?"

"What else could I do?" Kevin's voice carried a desolate powerlessness.

"I tried to resist. I studied hard, my grades were better than his. I practiced equestrianism and won awards in competitions. Everything I did, I tried to do better than him."

"But it was useless."

"In Father's eyes, no matter how well I did, it was taken for granted."

"But Andrew, even if he just casually closed a small business deal, he would receive Father's praise."

"Later, I understood. What he wanted wasn't a better son, but a more obedient heir."

"And I resembled my mother too much."

"Just as stubborn, just as unwilling to bow my head."

The night wind blew past, carrying the chill from the high altitude.

Shen Yan finished the wine in his glass.

"I had a failed marriage."

He suddenly said something completely unrelated to the current atmosphere.

Kevin froze.

"I originally ran a small company, and it was thriving."

"But disaster struck suddenly—my parents and younger sister were in a car accident."

"Mom and Dad couldn't be saved, and my sister remained in a coma, requiring hospitalization. The treatment costs were an astronomical figure in my eyes at the time."

"I used every liquid asset my company had, but I still couldn't cover the deficit."

"But my wife at the time saw that I was about to collapse, so she colluded with the shareholders to empty my company and left me with debt."

Shen Yan's voice was calm, as if recounting someone else's story.

"She forced me to divorce her, and in the end, she even snatched away my daughter's custody."

Kevin opened his mouth but couldn't utter a single word.

He had originally thought his own misfortune was bad enough.

"But she was excessively harsh toward Youyou, and right after divorcing me, she swiftly moved in with a man who had a little money."

"Youyou was unhappy every day because she felt like a completely superfluous person there."

There was no expression on Shen Yan's face.

But Kevin felt an icy chill rising from the soles of his feet.

"What happened later?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Later?"

Shen Yan turned his head to look at Kevin.

His eyes were deep, like a bottomless cold pool.

"Later, I took back everything that was mine."

"I fought for Youyou's custody back."

"Youyou is doing very well now, very happy."

"And that woman paid the price she deserved."

Shen Yan didn't say what the price was.

But Kevin knew that the price must have been more terrifying than death.

"Kevin."

Shen Yan called his name.

"Hatred is the best fuel. It can give you infinite power to destroy your enemies."

"But you cannot let it burn away your reason."

"You must learn to control it, to master it."

"Let it become the sword in your hand, not the fire that consumes you."

Shen Yan stood up.

"Let's go."

"We don't have much time left."

Kevin also stood up.

He looked at Shen Yan's retreating figure and suddenly felt that the fiercely burning flame in his heart, the one that was almost devouring him, had subsided considerably.

It hadn't been extinguished.

It had merely been compressed, forged, turning into a piece of steel that was colder and harder.

Back at the hotel.

Neither of them spoke again.

But the atmosphere in the suite was completely different from when they left.

That anxious, fervent air was gone.

In its place was a cold, precise stillness, like that of a scalpel.

The next morning.

The front-page headline of the Saint-Luo Trumpet detonated the entire city.

"The Hosen Family's Bloody Fairy Tale: The Tearful Confession of an Exiled Heir!"

Accompanying it were unsightly photos of State Senator Howard in a hotel room.

The noose of public opinion was officially tightened around Andrew's neck.

And this was only the beginning.

The newspaper was thrown onto the coffee table.

The smell of ink mixed with the aroma of coffee.

Kevin stared fixedly at the bold headline.

And the photo that ruined State Senator Howard's reputation.

Overnight.

The world had turned upside down.

The phone in the suite began to ring frantically.

It wasn't the hotel's internal line.

It was the new mobile phone Shen Yan had given him yesterday.

The screen flashed with a string of unfamiliar numbers.

Each one represented a panicked member of the Hosen Family.

Kevin didn't answer.

He just looked at the phone, like looking at a constantly buzzing beetle.

An unfamiliar emotion surged in his chest.

Excitement, mixed with a trace of satisfaction.

So, this was the taste of revenge.

"Don't celebrate too soon."

Shen Yan's voice poured down like a bucket of cold water.

"This is just the appetizer."

"The public interest will last for seventy-two hours at most."

"If you can't provide more explosive material during this time, the public will quickly forget about you."

Shen Yan pointed to a new email just received from the Private Detective 'Ghost' on the screen.

"Step two must begin now."

The email contained two personal files detailed to an outrageous degree.

The stable hand, Old John.

The Engineer, Pete.

Kevin clicked on Old John's file.

The man in the photo had graying hair and a kind smile, looking like an ordinary elderly neighbor.

Who would have thought that this old man was the one who personally tampered with his saddle?

If he hadn't impulsively switched horses that day, it would have been him breaking his neck.

"His son, Timothy, has an entrance interview at North Gate Private High School this afternoon at four."