From Disgraced Son-In-Law to Billionaire King

Chapter 3: Errand Boy Son-in-Law

“Cayden!”

The sharp voice of Mrs. Mortaine, Isabella's mother, cut through the small living room. She was sitting on the couch, while her arms crossed, her eyes glaring at him.

“Yes, Mother?” Cayden asked, standing up quickly from the chair where he had been sitting quietly.

“Go line up at the grocery! We need rice, vegetables, meat, and some condiments. I already wrote them down. Here.” She shoved a piece of paper toward him.

He stepped forward and took the list. “I’ll go now.”

“Make sure you don’t waste money. Buy the cheaper brands. And if you forget even one thing, don’t bother coming back early.”

“I understand.”

She looked him up and down with irritation. “You should be grateful I’m letting you do something useful. At least this way, you can contribute a little.”

Cayden lowered his head. “Yes.”

From the dining area, Isabella’s cousin snickered. “Our errand boy son-in-law. Perfect role for him.”

Mrs. Montaine didn’t scold her nephew. Instead, she gave Cayden another annoyed look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”

Cayden slipped on his shoes, picked up a reusable bag, and walked outside.

The grocery store was busy. Lines stretched in every direction, carts filled with goods. People were moving around, some complaining about the wait, while others chatting casually. Cayden walked toward the vegetable section, holding the folded list.

He picked up tomatoes, onions, and a bundle of leafy greens, checking the prices carefully. He added rice, then moved toward the meat counter.

As he was waiting, someone called his name. “Cayden? Is that you?”

He turned. It was one of the neighbors, Mr. Santos, carrying a small basket.

“Yes, it’s me,” Cayden replied politely.

Mr. Santos smirked. “I thought so. Doing the shopping again?”

“Yes. They needed groceries.”

The man laughed loudly, catching the attention of a few other shoppers. “So it’s true. You’re the son-in-law who runs errands. A real servant for the Mortaine. You shouldn't be the one doing things like this, you're their daughter's husband.”

Cayden forced a thin smile. “It’s fine. I don’t mind helping.”

“Helping?” Mr. Santos shook his head. “You call this helping? A real man wouldn’t be treated like this. Look at you, lining up like a houseboy.”

Cayden’s grip on the basket tightened. His knuckles turned pale, but he kept his voice steady. “I don’t see it that way.”

Mr. Santos chuckled again. “You should. People are talking. They say your wife deserves someone better. Someone with money. Someone with class. Not… this.” He gestured at Cayden’s plain shirt and worn shoes.

Cayden stayed silent.

“Anyway, good luck, errand boy.” The man walked off, still laughing to himself.

Cayden drew a slow breath and turned back to the counter. He paid for the meat, then joined the long line at the cashier.

By the time he finished, his arms were weighed down with several bags. He stepped outside, the late afternoon sun pressing on his back. The handles dug into his fingers, but he walked steadily.

“Cayden?”

He stopped. A familiar voice came from the sidewalk.

He turned and saw Isabella standing a few meters away. She was dressed neatly, her hair styled, holding a small clutch bag. Beside her was Antonio, tall and confident in a branded suit.

Cayden’s chest tightened, but he kept his tone calm. “Isabella.”

Antonio's eyes immediately dropped to the bags in Cayden’s hands. He smirked. “Well, well. Carrying groceries. You really are living like their servant.”

Cayden’s jaw tightened. “I’m just helping the family.”

“Helping?” Antonio gave a mocking laugh. “No, Cayden. You’re being used. You’re nothing more than their errand boy.”

Cayden kept his gaze steady. “Say what you want. I don’t mind.”

Antonio stepped closer. “Of course you don’t. You’ve gotten used to it. But tell me, do you ever think about what Isabella deserves? Do you really believe she should be with someone who can’t even afford decent clothes?”

Cayden glanced at Isabella. Her face was nothing but blank.

Antonio continued, his voice louder, making sure passersby could hear. “She should be with a man who can give her security. A man with status, with wealth, with influence. Not someone who spends his days carrying bags of groceries.”

Cayden’s grip on the bags tightened until the plastic cut into his skin.

Antonio pulled out his wallet and took out a stack of bills. He held it out with a sneer. “Here. Buy yourself something better to wear. Maybe then you won’t look so pathetic beside her. And I hope you'll accept the money this time. Don't worry, it's just nothing, it won't make me...poor."

Cayden stared at the money but didn’t move. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Antonio scoffed. “No, it’s pity. I actually feel sorry for you. You’re standing here, sweating under the sun, while your wife stands beside me, looking like she belongs in a world you’ll never reach.”

The people walking by slowed down to watch. Some whispered, some laughed quietly.

Cayden straightened his shoulders. “I said I don’t need your money.”

Antonio smirked. “Suit yourself. But everyone here can see what you are.” He put the bills back in his wallet. “A disgrace of a son-in-law.”

Cayden turned to Isabella again, searching her face. “Isabella…”

For a moment, he hoped she would defend him. He hoped she would say something to stop Antonio's mockery because her family doesn't even here.

But Isabella’s eyes were cold. She turned slightly toward Antonio and said, “He’s right.”

Cayden froze.

The bags in his hands suddenly felt unbearably heavy. His chest constricted, and for a second, he couldn’t breathe.

“You…” His voice broke. “You really think that?”

Isabella didn’t look at him. She lowered her eyes, as if ashamed to even meet his gaze.

Antonio's smirked wider, satisfied. “There you have it! Even she agrees.”

The people watching laughed softly, shaking their heads. Cayden stood there, his world collapsing around him, unable to take a single step forward.

"H-How could you say that, Isabella?..."