A SON IN LAW TURNS BILLIONAIRE AFTER DIVORCE

Chapter 3

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want cheap things?!” Susan shouted, her face flushed with rage as she pointed a manicured finger at the ring on the floor.

In his previous life, Leonard had offered that very ring to her as an anniversary gift. It was his family’s most sacred heirloom, and he had known its true worth. But back then, blinded by a pathetic, desperate love, he had foolishly believed Susan deserved something just as precious.

Fortunately, her own greed and snobbery had saved him. She had rejected it back then, calling it costume jewelry.

Leonard didn't say a word. He simply bent down, picked up the cool gold band, and slipped it safely into his jacket pocket.

“Look at you!” Susan continued to scream, putting on a wounded, pitiful expression as though she were the true victim in the room. “Why would I even want to stay with someone like you? You can’t even give me the life I deserve! My friends’ husbands buy them diamonds and yachts, and what do I get? Cheap family junk!”

In his previous life, those exact words would have broken him completely. He would have panicked, dropped to his knees, apologized profusely, and begged her to forgive him for failing to satisfy her endless demands.

Now, looking at her contorted face, he felt only a deep, overwhelming disgust.

“No matter what I give you, it will never be enough, will it?” Leonard asked softly.

Susan’s expression instantly darkened. “Don't you dare talk back to me!”

She raised her palm to slap his face a second time, her arm swinging back with full force. But as she brought her hand forward, she froze mid-air.

She met his eyes.

There was no desperation in them this time. No affection. No fear of losing her. There was only a terrifying, pitch-black wall of resentment and pure contempt.

Sensing the dangerous tension escalating in her office, the bank manager quickly gathered her tablet. “I... I will go process the account lock immediately, Mr. Buck,” she murmured nervously, hurrying toward the door.

Just as the manager pulled the door open, a tall man shoved past her, nearly knocking her over.

It was Joseph Miller—Susan’s useless, arrogant younger brother. Irritation was written all over his face as he stormed straight into the private office.

“What the hell are you two screaming about?” Joseph demanded, folding his arms and glaring between his sister and his brother-in-law with an entitled scowl. “I could hear you all the way down in the lobby! What’s all this drama? And more importantly, Leonard, where’s my million dollars? Did the transfer go through yet?”

Leonard turned slowly, giving his brother-in-law a cold, appraising glance.

“If you want money, Joseph,” Leonard said, his voice flat, “go earn it like every honest man does.”

“What the hell did you just say to me?” Joseph’s jaw dropped. His face twisted with sudden, ugly anger. “Are you backing out on me, Leonard?! We had a deal!”

“There was never a deal,” Leonard replied, devoid of every ounce of deference he used to show the Miller family. “There was only a leech of a family that convinced itself it had the divine right to spend my money whenever it pleased.”

“You son of a bitch!” Joseph snapped, his ego exploding. He took a heavy, aggressive step forward, raising a clenched fist toward Leonard’s face. “You don't talk to me like that! Who do you think you are?!”

“Careful,” Leonard said.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even raise his hands. But something in his tone—something so icy, so lethal, and so final—made Joseph instantly freeze in his tracks. A sudden shiver ran down Joseph's spine, locking his muscle in place. The look in Leonard's eyes was the look of a man who had killed monsters with his bare hands.

Without another word, Leonard calmly buttoned his suit jacket, turned his back on them, and walked out of the office.

“Leonard! Get back here right now!” Susan’s shrill voice echoed off the marble walls.

“You’re dead, Leonard! Do you hear me?!” Joseph roared, recovering from his shock and chasing him down the hallway. “You ruined my business! I’ll make sure my family destroys you for this! LEONARD!”

Their furious threats screamed down the hallway, but none of it mattered anymore. To Leonard, they were already ghosts.

Leonard moved quickly through the bank lobby and stepped out into the bustling city air. He ducked into a quiet, deserted alleyway between two brick buildings, completely out of sight from the main road.

He pulled the gold ring out of his pocket.

Without hesitating, he raised his hand to his mouth, bit hard into the tip of his thumb until skin broke, and pressed a single drop of blood onto the dull surface of the ring.

FLASH!

A blinding white light erupted before his eyes, swallowing his vision.

When he opened his eyes a second later, the alley was gone. The noise of city traffic had completely vanished.

He was standing inside a sunlit, completely empty apartment.

The dimensional space.

It was real. He was actually inside it.

Leonard took a deep breath. There was no running water, no electricity, and not a single piece of furniture. The interior consisted of a wide living room, two large bedrooms, and a small balcony overlooking a fenced garden. It covered roughly one hundred and twenty square meters, with tall ceilings reaching nearly three meters high.

Leonard stared around the vast, silent space, his chest heaving as his breathing quickened.

“This time,” he whispered, his voice trembling with fiery resolve, “I’m going to fill every single inch of this place with supplies.”

The possibilities racing through his mind were staggering. In his past life, he had only discovered the ring's true properties late into the apocalypse. The space possessed a perfect temporal stasis. Anything placed inside remained in the exact state it entered.

Food would never rot. Water would never evaporate or go stale. Hot meals would stay piping hot for a decade, and frozen goods would never melt.

It was the ultimate survival vault.

However, it had one critical rule.

Leonard walked into the center of the living room and looked up. Hovering gently in midair was a glowing, semi-transparent digital timer.

26:20

The red numbers continued to tick down, second by second.

26:19... 26:18…

He could remain physically inside the dimensional space for only thirty minutes at a time. Once he exited, a strict twenty-four-hour cooldown period would begin before he could enter again.

Leonard looked at the timer and smiled. A dark, satisfied smile. For now, while the world was still normal, thirty minutes a day was more than enough.

With a simple thought, Leonard willed himself out.

SWOOSH!

The bright apartment vanished, and Leonard stepped back into the shaded, quiet alleyway.

His pulse quickened—not with fear, but with the cold, hyper-focused exhilaration of a commander who had just received heavy reinforcements one minute before a war.

He adjusted his jacket and stepped back onto the crowded downtown street.

The city moved around him as if nothing were wrong. Horns honked at the busy intersection. A young couple laughed and argued over where to eat lunch. A food delivery driver hurried past carrying a stack of steaming, fresh pizza boxes.

Above them, the sky was a brilliant, clear blue, flooded with warm, golden sunlight. To anyone else, it looked like a paradise that would last forever.

Leonard stared up at the sun, his eyes narrowing into slits.

He knew the truth. In exactly ninety-two days, that blue sky would tear open, the temperature would drop to a hundred below zero, and hell would freeze over.

He turned his back on the sun and started walking toward his car.

He had ninety-two days, a spatial dimension, and a mountain of cash. And this time, he wasn't going to save the world—he was going to prepare for its funeral.