All Chapters of The Useless Son-in-Law Is a Hidden Tycoon: Chapter 61
- Chapter 70
160 chapters
Chapter 52: A Modest Foundation
The midday sun beats down on the sun-bleached sign of the Sunset Motel as Jasmine steps out of Room 214, clutching a manila folder tightly against her chest.Inside the folder is a signed two-page service agreement from Apex Logistics, a independent regional transport vendor operating out of the nearby industrial district.After five days of relentless cold-calling, pitching, and refining her custom UI templates, Jasmine had finally landed her first major client.The contract specifies a five-thousand-dollar flat fee for a complete overhaul of Apex’s internal fleet tracking portal—a task that Jasmine knew she could complete in less than ten days of intensive coding.With a fifty-percent upfront deposit already cleared in Nova Tech’s business checking account, she had uselessly wasted no time.Three hours after the check cleared, she signed the lease agreement for a small, two-bedroom apartment in the older, brick-clad quarter of the city’s western district.<
Chapter 52: A Modest Foundation (2)
"You are going to take that uniform, you are going to report for your shift at eight-thirty tonight, and you are going to earn six hundred dollars a week to pay for this family's food." "I can't do manual labor!" Paul shouts, standing up frantically, his face flushing red with shame. "If the city's business elite find out that Paul Richards is working as a night watchman, I will never be able to show my face in public again!" "You already can't show your face in public, Dad," Jasmine states, her voice slicing through his pathetic indignation with brutal accuracy. "You built your pride on borrowed money, false pretenses, and the cruelty you showed to a man who lived under your roof for two years." Paul flinches as if struck across the face, his jaw trembling as he drops his eyes to the floor. "I am working eighteen hours a day to build Nova Tech from nothing," Jasmine tells him, her tone dropping into a steady, absolute resolve. "I will provide a roof over your head, but
Chapter 53: Cast Out of Eden
The iron gates of the Bellevue Estates Country Club glisten under the bright midday sun, their intricate gilded scrollwork reflecting the immaculate, manicured beauty of the surrounding golf course. A gentle breeze rustles through the ancient oak trees lining the winding private driveway, where sleek luxury sedans and imported sports cars glide silently toward the grand portico. Walking along the edge of the stone driveway is Helen. She wears a floral designer dress from three seasons ago—one of the few pieces of clothing she managed to cram into her suitcase before leaving the mansion—alongside faded leather heels and oversized sunglasses intended to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her steps are hurried, her palms sweating as she clutches a vintage leather handbag against her ribs. For nearly eight years, this country club was the absolute center of Helen’s universe. It was where s
Chapter 54: The City Contract
The morning glare reflects off the towering glass facade of City Hall, where municipal reporters and camera crews gather around the marble steps of the civic center press briefing room. On the digital screens lining the hall, a joint press release from Starburst Tech flashes across major state news feeds: > STARBURST TECH OFFICIALLY SUBMITS OPEN BID FOR MUNICIPAL SMART-TRAFFIC INFRASTRUCTURE INITIATIVE > Project Scope: Autonomous grid optimization, real-time traffic signal processing, and emergency route prioritization across the metropolitan transit network. > Project Valuation: $180,000,000 > Within minutes of the press release going live, panic ripples through the municipal contracting sector. For over a decade, city infrastructure contracts had been divided among a small, cozy circle of legacy firms that charged exorbitant fees for outdated hardware and sluggish software updates. Starburst Tech’s en
Chapter 55: The Silent Strike
The executive suite on the highest floor of Starburst Tower is shrouded in twilight as the last golden rays of sunlight fade behind the distant mountain ridge. Inside the private office, the only illumination comes from the glowing blue arrays of the Silent Layer terminal—the dark-fiber intelligence network Aren Greyson had quietly integrated into Starburst Tech’s core infrastructure. Operating below the visible public internet, the Silent Layer processes millions of encrypted data points every second, tracking corporate wire transfers, offshore shell filings, and private communication nodes across the state. Aren sits motionless in his specialized wheelchair, his posture erect, his sharp dark eyes following the streams of encrypted text cascading down the primary glass display. The three-way syndicate established by Connor Thompson, Thomas Oaks, and Jerry Lee was designed to be completely invisible to conventional public records.
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Chapter 55: The Silent Strike (2)
The next morning, at eight o'clock, the atmosphere inside the high-ceilinged executive conference room of the City Ethics Committee is tense and suffocating. Heavy wooden doors seal off the room from the dozens of reporters and camera crews waiting outside in the main marble rotunda of City Hall. Sitting at the head of the conference table is Inspector Marcus John, a stern, silver-haired former federal magistrate known for his absolute intolerance for public corruption. Surrounding him are four senior ethics board members, their faces pale and grim as they stare at the encrypted tablet screens resting before them. The room is utterly silent, save for the clicking of mechanical pencils and the tense, shallow breathing of the board members. At eight-ten, the heavy double doors click open. Connor Thompson, Thomas Oaks, and Jerry Lee step into the room wearing expensive, tailored suits, their silk ties
Chapter 56: The Dead Family's Secrets
The night air is freezing and slick with damp mist as Nikolai Wynn crouches behind the overgrown rhododendron bushes bordering his father’s dark, silent townhouse. The once-pristine estate, situated in the quiet suburban hills of the upper district, looks abandoned and hollow under the pale moonlight. Ever since Marcus Wynn’s sudden stroke and Nikolai’s swift fall from grace, the property had been sealed off under a preliminary asset-freeze order, its heavy iron gates locked and its sweeping lawn left untrimmed. Nikolai’s hands tremble wildly as he pulls a rusted iron crowbar from beneath his oversized, mud-stained coat. His eyes, sunken and bloodshot from three days of living on the streets, dart nervously toward the empty road behind him. He knows that if the local police patrols catch him breaking into a seized property, he will be thrown into a holding cell before morning. Yet he has no choice. He n
Chapter 57: The Trap in the Yard
The glow of the terminal screen casts a cool, blue light across the dark marble desk inside the Starburst Tower penthouse. A sharp, high-pitched chime echoes through the quiet room as a high-priority message bypasses Starburst Tech’s public intake filters, landing directly on the executive portal. Xavier Thorne, standing beside the main console, taps the interface to open the encrypted email. The message is sent from a temporary, burner email address, but the text inside is written with aggressive, frantic capitalization and erratic punctuation: > TO THE PHANTOM EXECUTIVE OF STARBURST / AREN GREYSON: > I know who you are. I know what you are trying to do at ten o'clock this morning. > I have the original 1999 Wynn-Greyson liquidation ledgers. I have the signed indemnity clause proving that four senior Greyson Empire board directors illegally siphoned thirty million dollars from the original Greyson trust to des
Chapter 57: The Trap in the Yard (2)
At eight-fifteen, a light, freezing drizzle falls over the rusted iron tracks of the Pacific Freight Yard. The fog hangs thick and heavy over the rows of abandoned corrugated steel shipping containers, muffling the distant sound of morning city traffic. Nikolai Wynn crouches inside a hollowed-out wooden boxcar, his hands shaking violently as he clutches a cheap pair of plastic binoculars against his eyes. His clothes are damp, his hair greasy and matted, but his bloodshot eyes burn with a wild, manic intensity. He checks the timer on his cheap prepaid phone. Eight-twenty-five. Five minutes remaining. Nikolai pulls the yellowed manila folder tighter against his chest, feeling the thick, crisp pages of the 1999 Wynn-Greyson ledgers beneath his coat. "Five million dollars," Nikolai whispers frantically to himself, his teeth chattering from the cold and adrenal
Chapter 58: The Midnight Hunt
The midnight train yard is a desolate, frozen expanse of rusted steel, cracked timber, and rotting iron rail cars.High above Sector 4, a solitary sodium-vapor lamp hums with a sickly yellow flicker, buzzing violently against the quiet, damp night.Nikolai Wynn crouches inside the shadow of an overturned gravel hopper, his chest heaving, his teeth clicking together from the biting chill.His damp, mud-stained coat reeks of engine grease and stale rain, but his bloodshot eyes burn with a wild, desperate fever.He checks his cheap prepaid phone.12:00 AM.Right on the dot.Nikolai reaches into his inner pocket, his trembling fingers verifying the hard, rectangular outline of the 1999 Wynn-Greyson ledgers tucked safely beneath his ribs."Five million dollars," Nikolai mutters frantically, his voice a hoarse, breathless rasp that dissolves into the dark air."Five million dollars in cash. I take the bag, I run to the docks, and I never look at th