The Bastard Billionaire (English Version)

Ice is a good son to his mother. He never gives her headaches. They may lack in other things, but his mother ensures he doesn't feel it. His entire day revolves around studying. He comes home from school, eats, takes care of himself, and then studies again. Although he wants to help his mother, she prefers otherwise. Even though he wishes to go out and play with other kids, he doesn't know anyone in their area, so he chooses to study at home for his mother's happiness. He remains a consistent top student even though they frequently move homes. On the other hand, there's a family that eats together but doesn't talk. One woman's eyes almost popped out in anger because of what they found out, while another was extremely happy. The two others there didn't care and hurriedly went to work. "That's still two weeks away, don't get too excited," said the woman who didn't care earlier. The father and son looked at each other, shrugged, and didn't say anything. "Why do we even need to prepar

**Miguel Ice's P.O.V** "Mom!" I called out. "Wait a minute! Here I am! No need to rush! You still have plenty of time. Besides, you'll be taking the bus there," Mom replied, slightly flustered. "It's my first job interview, Mom. I don't want to be late. And more importantly, I want to get a job so you don't have to work at the market anymore. I want to provide for both of us," I explained to her. "My son, don't put too much pressure on yourself. If the job is meant for you, it will come to you," she said, gently rubbing my face and hair. "I'm fine, Mom. I'm not a baby anymore," I reassured her. "Here's your lunch, here's your snack. If you end up staying overnight, here's extra money for dinner. Don't go hungry, alright? Call me if it's not enough or if you need anything," Mom instructed. "Yeah, I know, Mom. You've told me this seven times already. So don't worry," I replied. "And one more thing, don't stress about calling me every hour. Rest at home while I'm gone," I told her

**Miguel Ice's P.O.V** "Mom, who is he?" I asked as I lay in the living room, startled by the presence of a man with my mother. "I thought you were just going out to buy groceries tonight and tomorrow morning?" I inquired again. Neither of them spoke. I couldn't decipher my mother's expression; she simply stared at me. "What's going on, Mom?" I asked, feeling the man hug me while my mother began to cry. What on earth was happening? "Why is Mom crying? What's going on?" I gently released myself from the man's embrace and handed Mom a glass of water from the table. "Sit down first and calm down, Mom," I urged her. There was a long silence before Mom spoke again. "He's your father," Mom said quietly. "I know, Mom, but why is he here?" I asked, raising my voice. "Son, please calm down first. Let me explain," Mom said, trying to soothe me. "Your mom needs extensive medical treatment. I have to send her to the U.S. for her treatment to be completed. In exchange, you need to work

**Miguel's P.O.V** "Mom, please keep me updated always," I begged Mom. I couldn't call her 'Mama' anymore, as per one of my father's conditions. It's not what I want, but I have to comply. Mom and I went to the hospital for her check-up, seeking a second opinion, but the diagnosis remained unchanged. I've been pondering everything these past few days, including my work, which I've neglected. I'd give up anything for Mom. I've noticed subtle changes in her movements, so I've made the decision that's best for her. "Sir, we'll take good care of Ma'am. Mr. Martin is waiting for you at his house," the attendant said. I glanced at him grimly and hugged Mom tightly. We held that embrace for ten minutes. I didn't see Mom cry; she reminded me to be strong, that men don't cry. We laughed together, promising to face everything together after these trials. Regarding my job, I knew it was improper to resign via text message, but I couldn't bring myself to face him. Letting him think ill of me

Aira's Point of View The venue was bustling with noise and cameras, focused on every person arriving and entering. "This is insane. Gosh," I muttered to myself. We attended a grand gathering of global elites, where everyone boasted about their achievements and wealth. "Dad, can I leave early after the program?" I asked. "Give your father this whole night, Aira; don't spoil it," Mom replied curtly. I simply sighed. In this family, my voice doesn't matter. Everything I say seems to be against their wishes. I remained quiet, taking my place at the family-assigned table. Dad sat beside my sister, then me, and Meriam next to me. On the other side were brother and Ken, while Mom sat opposite Dad. From a distance, we looked like a happy and content family—a picture-perfect family image. "Always comparing!" a man exclaimed when he saw my dad. "Good to see you. Where's wife?" Dad replied, engaging in business talk before greeting other businessmen. He introduced us one by one, and we