Exiled Son-In-Law, Supreme General

The prison gates yawned open with a harsh, metallic groan, the sound echoing down the rain-dampened corridors like a warning bell. 

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long, pale shadows on the concrete floor. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and old steel, a place designed to crush dignity.

Valerie, secretary to Lisa Liang, CEO of Yaolin Group, walked briskly through the hall. Her stiletto heels struck the ground in sharp, deliberate clicks, the rhythm of a woman on a mission. 

Her crisp white blouse and fitted pencil skirt made her stand out like a swan among crows, but her expression was rigid, even disdainful. To her, this place, and the man she was about to see, were beneath her boss’s world.

A guard led her to the visiting area. The glass partition was streaked with fingerprints and the residue of countless broken stories. 

On the other side, sitting with an almost lazy elegance in his orange prison uniform, was Maxwell Liang, the man the world thought was just Lisa’s washed-up, freeloading husband.

Even in prison, he had a presence. Broad-shouldered and calm, he radiated a quiet strength that unsettled Valerie. 

His hands rested lightly on the table, and his posture was relaxed, almost regal, as though these walls could not contain him.

“Sign these,” Valerie said briskly, sliding a folder of divorce papers under the glass. “Ms. Liang has been patient long enough.”

Maxwell didn’t touch the papers. Instead, his dark eyes, steady, probing, lifted to meet hers. 

There was no anger in them, only a quiet amusement that made her feel, inexplicably, like she’d just stepped into a trap.

“She sent you to do this?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, but something about it carried weight, like distant thunder.

“She’s busy,” Valerie replied, her chin tilting higher. “You’ve already brought enough shame to her. Spare her the trouble.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Busy.” He repeated the word as though tasting it. Then he leaned forward slightly, the light catching on the hard line of his jaw. “Tell her: if she wants my signature, she can come herself.”

Valerie stiffened. “Don’t make this difficult, Maxwell Liang. You have no right to.”

“I have every right,” he interrupted softly, but with a finality that silenced her. “This isn’t a business transaction. She’s my wife… at least until I see her eyes and hear her voice when she ends it.”

The secretary faltered. For a moment, just a heartbeat, she saw not a convict, but a man with unshakable dignity. 

Then she scowled, gathering her composure. “Fine. I’ll tell her. But don’t delude yourself. This changes nothing.” She snapped the folder shut and rose, her heels clacking against the floor as she stormed out.

…

The rain was falling harder when Lisa Liang arrived later that afternoon. She stepped from her black sedan, umbrella angled perfectly, the tailored cut of her dark coat emphasizing her statuesque figure. 

The world knew her as the ice-queen CEO who never faltered, never betrayed emotion. Yet as she crossed the threshold of the prison, her fingers tightened on the umbrella’s handle until her knuckles whitened.

Inside, the guards seemed almost intimidated by her. Even here, in a place stripped of status, her presence commanded respect. She moved like a queen entering foreign territory, composed, aloof, untouchable.

Maxwell was already waiting in the visiting room. He rose when she entered, an ironic gesture of courtesy, and for a moment their eyes met, hers cool and guarded, his unreadable but intense.

She sat first, laying the divorce papers between them like a battlefield map. “Let’s not drag this out,” she said, her tone even, as if negotiating a contract. “Sign them. I’ll compensate you generously, enough for you to start over elsewhere.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then he laughed, quietly, bitterly. The sound was soft, but it seemed to echo against the walls. “So that’s what we were worth?” he said finally. “A number on a check?”

Her hand tightened on the pen she’d brought, the only sign of her inner turmoil. “This marriage has been broken for a long time, Maxwell. You couldn’t support me then, and now…” She hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing her otherwise impassive face. “Now you’re here. You’re holding me back.”

The words stung more than he’d expected. He stared at her, searching for the woman who once whispered dreams to him under the stars. But all he saw now was the perfect mask of the CEO, cold, untouchable.

He reached for the papers, signed them with a flourish, and pushed them back. “Keep your money. But the pendant I gave you, return it. It belonged to my mother.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes before she quickly masked it. A trace of guilt softened her features. She nodded once. “I’ll bring it on my next visit. If you have other terms, think them over by tomorrow.”

She stood, gathering her composure. “Goodbye, Maxwell.”

As she walked away, her heels tapping out an elegant but lonely rhythm, he watched her with a bitter half-smile. 

Once, he had believed she would trust him no matter what storm came. But when disaster struck, even the closest birds scattered.

The door opened. The warden stepped inside, saluted sharply. “General… the President requests your presence.”

Maxwell’s smirk deepened, though his eyes hardened with resolve. The game wasn’t over yet.