Exiled Son-In-Law, Supreme General

Chapter 6

The city at night was a jeweled tapestry, rivers of headlights threading through darkened streets, the neon glow of signs reflecting off glass towers. 

Maxwell steered his sedan into a discreet side street near the Grand Meridian Hotel, careful to avoid the main entrance’s bright floodlights. 

The mission demanded caution, and the woman at his side demanded the exact opposite.

Inside the car, Victoria sat cross-legged in the passenger seat, her crimson dress riding dangerously high on her thigh as she twisted a loose curl of hair around one finger. “Honestly, you’re treating this like a spy thriller,” she teased. “It’s just a hotel, not a battlefield.”

His hands remained steady on the wheel. “Battles are easier,” he said dryly. “At least you know where the bullets are coming from.”

She tilted her head, studying him with a curious mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You really can’t turn it off, can you? Even after…” Her voice softened, and for a fleeting moment the teasing mask slipped. “After prison. After the divorce.”

Maxwell’s grip on the steering wheel tightened imperceptibly. “Go inside first. Make an entrance. People expect you to be dazzling, not sneaking in through a side door.”

Her brows arched. “You’re ordering me around?” But the faint glimmer in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She reached across the console, fingers brushing his hand. “Fine. But only because I like you bossy.”

Before he could respond, she leaned over, swift and unexpected, and pressed a light kiss to his jaw. “For luck,” she murmured, and then, with a wink, she slipped out of the car, her heels clicking as she strutted toward the grand, golden-lit doors of the Meridian.

Maxwell exhaled, a trace of a smile flickering before his face hardened again. He watched her disappear into the glittering lobby before stepping out, tugging his coat tighter against the night chill.

He had barely locked the car when a sharp, indignant voice sliced through the air. “Well, well… if it isn’t our family’s shameful son-in-law.”

He turned to see Stella Jiang, Lisa’s mother, standing beside a gleaming luxury car, her designer shawl draped over her shoulders like a queen’s mantle. 

Beside her, her younger son Peter Jiang lounged against the hood, a careless grin on his lips and a faint whiff of expensive cologne surrounding him.

Maxwell’s expression remained impassive. “Madam Stella. Young Master Peter.”

Stella’s lips curved into a brittle smile. “Released early for good behavior, were you?”

“Yes.” His voice was level, neither defensive nor apologetic. “The authorities deemed my sentence served.”

She stepped closer, the clicking of her heels like distant gunfire. “How noble of them. And how considerate of you to humiliate my daughter while you were at it.”

“There was no humiliation,” Maxwell said quietly. “Only regret. And responsibility.”

Peter snorted. “Responsibility? Please. You were a freeloader from the start. My sister should’ve dumped you long ago.”

Stella’s smile sharpened. “Tell me, Maxwell, how did the divorce negotiations go? Did you convince her to keep you as her charity case?”

Maxwell let out a slow breath. “I signed the papers this morning. There were faults on my side too. Don’t blame her.”

Stella’s eyes flashed with triumph. “Blame her? Oh, I’m proud of her. If she hadn’t asked for the divorce, I would’ve forced her to. Did you truly believe a jailbird could be worthy of her?”

Peter stepped forward, his grin turning vicious. “Speaking of worth, where’s the money? The ‘compensation’ she offered you? Hand it over.”

“I didn’t take a penny.” Maxwell’s tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Our marriage ended because of us, not because of money.”

Stella’s face hardened. “Don’t lie. If you won’t give it back willingly…” She gestured toward her son. “Search him.”

Peter swaggered forward, reaching for Maxwell’s coat. Maxwell caught the younger man’s wrist mid-motion, his fingers a vice around Peter’s arm. His voice was low but lethal. “Don’t.”

But Peter, sensing an audience in the passing hotel guests, dramatically twisted his body and threw himself backward onto the pavement. He landed with a theatrical groan, clutching his elbow. “Ow! He attacked me!”

Stella gasped loudly, playing her part to perfection. “How dare you! You thief, you hit my son after stealing our money? Security! Someone call security!”

Maxwell stood over them, jaw tight, the absurdity of the scene almost comical if it weren’t so pathetic. He turned to leave, but his gaze snagged on a glint of silver around Stella’s neck.

The pendant. His mother’s heirloom. The one he had entrusted to Lisa. His voice dropped an octave, sharp as broken glass. “Where did you get that necklace?”

Stella’s hand instinctively went to her throat. “This? My daughter’s. A gift from her worthless ex-husband. Which means…” Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “It’s hers now. And by extension, mine.”

“Return it,” Maxwell said flatly.

“Why should I? You gave it away. That makes it ours.” Her eyes glimmered with greed. “Unless, of course, you’d like to buy it back, if you can even afford dinner tonight.”

Maxwell’s anger flared hot, his fists clenching at his sides. He took a step forward, intent on reclaiming the only piece of his mother he had left, 

But movement cut across his path. Two uniformed security guards had arrived, alerted by Stella’s shrill cries.

“Sir,” one said sternly, “we’ll need to see your VIP card. Otherwise, you’re trespassing and causing a disturbance.”

Stella folded her arms, triumphant. “See? Without money or power, you’re nothing. Be smart, Maxwell. Hand over the money, or we’ll make sure you go back where you belong.”