A SON IN LAW TURNS BILLIONAIRE AFTER DIVORCE

Chapter 4

BANG!

The front door slammed into the wall hard enough to leave a fresh dent in the plaster as Leonard strode into the house.

Everything was exactly as he remembered.

The artificial flowers Magret, Susan's mother, had arranged on the entry table. The staircase runner sitting slightly crooked because Michael, Susan's father, had installed it himself and refused to let anyone fix it. And there was that distinct, lingering aroma of Susan's perfume—a scent that had, year by suffocating year, entirely overwritten the smell of the home his parents had built.

Hearing the door, Michael marched out of the living room, wearing the grave expression he always adopted before issuing orders disguised as family advice.

“There you are,” he said, his voice booming through the foyer. “Susan called and told me about the scene you caused at the bank! What the fuck were you thinking? You need to call Susan and Joseph immediately and apologize!”

Leonard didn't say a single word. He walked right past him toward the staircase.

“I’m talking to you!” Michael snapped, rushing forward to step directly into his path, blocking the stairs.

“You will also sign the mortgage agreement again,” he continued, puffing out his chest with righteous authority. “Otherwise, I’ll tell Susan to file for divorce!”

In his previous life, that threat had worked every time.

The word divorce had always stopped Leonard cold. He would retreat, reconsider, apologize, and do whatever was necessary to restore peace. Because he had believed that was what a man did to protect his marriage. Because he had believed their marriage was worth saving.

But now, the threat sounded almost laughable.

Leonard didn't stop. He simply tried to step around the older man.

Mistaking Leonard's dismissal for fear, Michael grew emboldened. He grabbed Leonard roughly by the shoulder and raised his right hand.

"How dare you act like this when I was talking to you!?" Michael roared, swinging his palm violently toward Leonard’s face.

That was enough.

Leonard caught Michael’s wrist in mid-air before the slap could land.

In one smooth motion, he twisted the arm downward, stepped behind him, and drove it up against his back. Michael stumbled forward with a loud gasp, his chest striking the edge of the dining table before his cheek was forced flat against its cold, polished surface.

Michael let out a muffled yelp of pain and sheer astonishment. “Agh! What the hell are you doing?! Let go of me!”

Leonard leaned down, his face inches from Michael's ear.

"Put your hands on me again," Leonard murmured, his voice deadly quiet, "and it won't end this easily."

Right at that moment, Magret emerged from the hallway, holding her grandson in her arms. Taking in the violent tableau at the dining table, she let out a series of sharp, hysterical shrieks.

“Michael! Oh my god! Leonard, stop! Are you crazy?!” Magret screamed.

The sudden, piercing noise startled the child into loud, wailing tears.

Leonard released Michael's arm, letting the older man collapse against the table, gasping for air and clutching his wrist. Slowly, Leonard turned toward the crying child in Magret’s arms.

Mark was exactly who he had come here to see.

Once, this boy had been the center of Leonard’s universe—a son he loved above all else, a child he had starved for and nearly frozen to death for in the apocalypse. But now, as Leonard looked at him, that deep love had curdled into something cold, bitter, and hollow.

Mark had Susan’s dark hair and pale skin. His eyes carried the same watchful, calculating quality Leonard had once mistaken for sharp intelligence. The child bore absolutely no physical resemblance to Leonard whatsoever, but in his past life, he had never questioned it, foolishly assuming Susan’s genes were simply dominant.

Instead, he had spent eight years wearing the humiliation of a cuckold without ever knowing it, raising another man's child as his own while the true father laughed behind his back.

There is nothing more dangerous than an honest man pushed entirely past his breaking point.

Leonard stepped closer, his face an unreadable mask. He gently reached out and wiped a tear from Mark’s cheek.

"I need to check something for you," Leonard said evenly, his voice smooth and calm. "Open your mouth."

Magret immediately pulled the child back into her chest, staring at Leonard with terrified, wide eyes. “What are you trying to do to him?! Get away from him!”

"Because I'm checking for an ulcer, Magret," Leonard said, shifting his cold gaze to his mother-in-law. "Do you have cotton swabs?"

Magret, still shaken and processing the terrifying scene at the dining table, pointed wordlessly toward the kitchen cabinet behind her.

Leonard walked over, retrieved a sterile cotton swab from the cabinet, and walked back to the child.

"Open up, Mark," Leonard murmured gently.

The swabbing took exactly thirty seconds. Mark submitted to it with the bored, whiny tolerance of a child who found adults incredibly tedious, before immediately turning back to Magret to whine about dinner. "Grandma, I'm hungry! Tell him to go away!"

Leonard pulled a small plastic bag from his jacket, slipped the sealed, saliva-coated swab inside, and tucked it safely into his inner pocket.

He looked at Michael, who was still leaning against the table with a red, bruised face, and then at Magret, who was clutching Mark like a shield.

Without saying another word, Leonard turned around and walked straight out the front door, leaving the house behind him.