The Fake Son Is A Billionaire Young Master

Or do we, Mrs. Malfoy?

A gasp escaped the man's lips as cold water was splashed on his face. Coming back to life, he struggled against his restraints, his breath coming out in short, panicked bursts.

His eyes, wide, frantically swept around the dimly lit room, searching for any clue as to where he was.

The room was small, suffocating, and gave off an eerie sense. The walls were a faded shade of white, peeling in some areas, revealing the bleak grey concrete underneath.

The room was small, with only one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and its weak light creating long, ominous shadows.

It seemed as though no one had been in there for a long time because of the musty smell in the air.

The chair he found himself bound to was old and worn. The wooden structure squeaked beneath his weight, and his wrists and ankles were bit by the rope that kept him securely in place.

The man strained against his bonds, desperate to break free and escape the foreboding atmosphere that surrounded him.

His eyes fell upon a s