Dark Fate: The Useless Son-in-Law’s Vengeance

The divorce

The front door clicked open at half past seven in the morning.

Victoria stepped inside, her heels echoing against the marble entryway. She looked immaculate … Her hair was perfectly styled, and her makeup was flawless despite the long night. Only the faint shadows beneath her eyes hinted at exhaustion.

She dropped her purse on the console table and walked into the living room.

Adrian Cole sat on the sofa, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. His head was tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed, but she could tell from his breathing that he wasn’t really asleep. The candles from last night’s dinner had burned down to nothing. The dining room table was still set, though he had covered the dishes with plastic wrap.

The sight of it made something twist uncomfortably in her chest.

She pushed the feeling away.

“Adrian Cole.” Her voice came out sharper than intended. “What are you just sitting there for? If you’ve got nothing better to do, get over here and give me a massage. My shoulders are killing me.”

He didn’t move.

Victoria’s jaw tightened. “Did you hear me? I said my shoulders hurt.”

Still nothing.

She crossed her arms, irritation flaring hot and immediate in her chest. Vincent would’ve jumped up already to attend to her. Vincent would’ve been attentive, asking what he could do to help. But Adrian Cole just sat there like a statue.She’d spent the entire night out socializing and smoothing things over for this family, running herself ragged—and yet he had the nerve to act like the whole world owed him something, unmoving, indifferent, not even sparing her a glance.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Don’t bother. I should’ve known better than to expect anything useful from you.”

That got a reaction.

His eyes opened slowly. When he looked at her, there was something in his expression she couldn’t quite read…something hollow and distant that made her uncomfortable.

“Where were you last night?” His voice was quiet. 

Victoria felt heat rise up her neck. “I told you. The celebration banquet. I was working.”

“I called you. Multiple times.”

“My phone died.” The lie came easily. “The battery ran out during the press conference. I didn’t have a charger.”

“You couldn’t borrow one?”

“Adrian Cole.” She heard the warning edge in her own voice. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated like some criminal. I had a few drinks at the banquet, I networked with investors, and yes, I didn’t answer your calls. So what? It was an important night for my company. What exactly is your problem?”

He studied her face for a long moment, and she hated how exposed she felt under that gaze. Like he could see straight through her carefully constructed walls.

Then he reached for his phone on the coffee table.

“I think you should see something,” he said.

He tapped the screen a few times, then held it out toward her.

The video started playing.

Victoria’s blood turned to ice.

There she was on the screen…the video of her kissing another man and accepting his ring was on full display turning her numb for a moment.

“I need an explanation,” Adrian Cole said, still in that too-calm voice.

Panic shot through her like electricity. Without thinking, she lunged forward and knocked the phone out of his hand. It clattered across the floor, the screen going dark.

“How dare you!” The words exploded from her, sharp and vicious. “You’ve been spying on me? Secretly filming me? What kind of psychotic behavior is that?”

Adrian Cole’s face changed. The careful blankness cracked, revealing something raw underneath…hurt so deep it looked like physical pain.

“So it’s true,” he said quietly. “All of it.”

Something in his tone made her chest constrict, but she couldn’t stop now. 

“So what if it’s true?” She pointed at him.Then she smiled.

“If it really bothers you that much, then we can get a divorce. Go out there and see for yourself—see if you can actually find the kind of woman you want, someone who makes money, supports the family, and stays perfectly loyal. Go on, try it!”

“I agree.” Adrian reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila folder, placing it deliberately on the coffee table between them.

Divorce papers.

Victoria froze, her eyes snapping to the documents, then to his face. “What…what is this?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” His voice was calm, almost gentle. “I’m filing for divorce, Victoria.”

Her shock lasted only a heartbeat before fury blazed across her features. “You?” Her hands were shaking with rage. “You think you get to divorce me?”

She lunged forward and seized the papers, her perfectly manicured nails tearing through them with satisfaction. The sound of ripping paper filled the room as she shredded them pieces.

“Who do you think you are?” She was shouting now, her composure completely shattered. “After everything…after I’ve tolerated your pathetic existence in MY house, eating MY food, living off my success…you think you have the right?”

Adrian watched her destroy the papers with an expression that was almost detached, like he was observing something from a great distance. So this is who she really is, he thought. Three years, and I never truly saw it. Or maybe I did, and I just kept making excuses. 

Breathing hard, she spun toward her purse and practically tore it open, yanking out her own manila folder. “If anyone is ending this marriage, it’s me!” She slammed her papers onto the table so hard the furniture rattled. “I’ve been carrying these for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment…and you think you can steal that from me too?”

He almost wanted to laugh. All this time, she’d had her own divorce papers ready. While he’d been agonizing over whether to let her go, she’d already made her choice. Had probably made it months ago. The woman standing before him, shaking with rage at being denied her grand exit, was a stranger. Or perhaps she was finally showing him who she’d always been.

How fitting, he thought with bitter irony. Even in divorce, I was too slow.

Her pen moved in violent strokes across both copies. “Let’s be honest, Adrian. Look at yourself!” She threw the pen down and shoved the papers toward him. “How are you even worthy of me anymore? I need a husband I can be proud of…someone accomplished, someone who commands respect. Not a pathetic servant playing at being a man!”

Then he stood, picked up a copy of the signed divorce papers, and folded them calmly into his jacket and  walked toward the door without answering.

“That’s right, run away! That’s all you ever do!” She followed him into the foyer, her heels clicking against marble. “You’re nothing without me! Do you hear me? Nothing!”

Adrian paused in the doorway, glanced back at her once with something almost like pity in his eyes, then walked out.

The door closed with a quiet click.