Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth

Young Master

Chapter 3: Young Master

Dylan’s gaze remained as cold as steel, locking onto Lisa’s smug expression. “How I raise Molly is none of your concern,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Lisa let out a dry laugh, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, Dylan. Let’s not pretend you’re doing her any favors. You’re a broke, useless man with no future. Molly deserves better than being dragged down by you.”

Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but a small voice interrupted from the doorway. “You’re a bad woman!”

Both heads turned toward Molly, who stood clutching her stuffed bunny as though it were her only shield. Her innocent face was streaked with tears, her big eyes glistening with hurt.

Lisa’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “What did you just say, you little brat?”

Upon hearing Lisa's words, Dylan's face turned cold. He stood up and positioned himself in front of Molly, coldly saying.

"Repeat what you just said? Who gave you the guts to call my daughter like that?"

Lisa let out a cold laugh, thinking Dylan was a clown.

"I called her a little brat!"

Lisa's face was full of mockery. "What are you going to do to me? Hit me?"

Dylan clenched his fists tightly, unable to accept that someone would dare insult his daughter.

Molly took a shaky step forward, her tiny fists clenched at her sides. “You’re bad! You made Daddy sad!”

Lisa rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, grow up, you spoiled little—”

“Enough!” Dylan’s voice cut through her words like a whip. His jaw clenched as he stepped protectively in front of Molly. “Apologize. Now.”

Lisa laughed harshly, leaning back against the wall. “Apologize? To a child nobody even wants? Don’t make me laugh, Dylan. Even her own mother doesn’t care enough to stick around.”

“Mommy loves me!” Molly cried, her voice breaking as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Lisa smirked, her voice dripping with venom. “Oh, sweetheart, if your mother really loved you, do you think she’d have left you with this useless man?”

*Slap!*

The sound echoed in the room, cutting through the tension like a blade. Lisa stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek in disbelief.

“How dare you—” she began, but Dylan’s icy voice stopped her cold.

“You can insult me all you want,” he said, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “But if you ever speak ill of Molly again, I swear you’ll regret it.”

Lisa’s face contorted in rage. “You think you can get away with hitting me? You’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a man, Dylan! You have no money, no status, nothing! How dare you!”

"And your daughter, she's just unloved..."

"I said, shut up!" Dylan slapped Lisa hard once again.

Lisa screamed, blood flowing from her mouth.

"Dylan! You good-for-nothing, you're dead! How dare you hit me! I'll tell Jane, you'll never get back together with her in this life..."

Lisa shouted, unable to believe that Dylan, such a good-for-nothing, actually had the guts to hit her.

However, her rant was interrupted by the distant rumble of engines. The sound grew louder, cutting through the morning quiet until it was impossible to ignore.

“What’s that noise?” Molly asked, her tears momentarily forgotten as she peeked out from behind Dylan.

Lisa strode to the window, her anger replaced by confusion. “What the…” she muttered.

Outside, a procession of sleek, luxurious cars pulled up in front of Jane’s house. The sun gleamed off the polished surfaces of the vehicles—Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Aston Martins—each more dazzling than the last.

Lisa’s jaw dropped. “Are you seeing this?” she asked, though she wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular.

Dylan didn’t move, his expression unreadable.

Moments later, men in tailored suits began stepping out of the cars, their movements precise and exuding authority.

Lisa turned back to Dylan with a smug smirk. “See that? This is Jane’s life now. These must be her new business partners. The Nelsons. Real men with power and money. You’ll never even get close to this kind of wealth.”

Dylan’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile, one that sent an inexplicable chill down Lisa’s spine.

From one of the cars, a strikingly handsome man emerged. He was tall, with sharp features, and his three-piece suit fit him perfectly, exuding elegance and power.

Lisa’s breath hitched. “Who is that?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away.

She turned to Dylan with a triumphant look. “This must be one of Jane’s wealthy suitors,” she said loudly. “Look at him—class, wealth, everything you’ll never have. Face it, Dylan, you’ll never compare to—”

Seeing the handsome man walk up to her, Lisa quickly straightened her clothes.

She put on what she thought was her most beautiful smile and said to the handsome man, "Hello, sir. I'm Jane's best friend, Lisa. She's not here right now, but I can show you around..."

However, the man walked straight past Lisa without even glancing at her. Instead, he stopped in front of Dylan and, to her utter shock, bowed deeply.

“Mr Grenville,” he said, his voice filled with respect. “I am Charles Emerson, the Nelson family’s butler. It’s an honor to see you here.”

Lisa’s mouth fell open. “What?” she stammered, her brain scrambling to make sense of what she had just witnessed.

Before she could say more, another car door opened. This time, a stunning woman stepped out, her movements graceful as she helped an elderly man to his feet. The old man leaned on a silver cane, his face lit with emotion as he approached Dylan.

“Young master,” the elderly man said, his voice trembling. “Welcome home. We’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”