Humble son-in-law in the day, Billionaire at night

4

A thought creeps into Aiden’s mind the moment he steps out of the dressing room. Harper loves him—he knows that. But Wesley’s voice still echoes somewhere deep in his skull, slimy and smug.

Before he knows it, his feet carry him across the corridor and into the event hall.

“Sir,” Park’s man calls, catching up behind him. “You’ll need to conduct a brief interview with the finalists. Only five companies made it through from over a thousand applications. We’ll need your judgment to pick the top one.”

Aiden slows, turning halfway. “I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

The man bows, stepping aside as Aiden walks toward the party.

Soft music hums through the hall. The dance floor is packed, heels clicking, suits flashing, laughter rising like bubbles. Aiden’s eyes sweep the room in one clean glance.

No Harper.

He shifts his gaze to the tables—even though he knows better. Harper isn’t the kind to sit when there's a beat in the air. She’d be dancing, carefree. Glowing.

Just as he reaches for his phone to track her location, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“I’m married.”

Aiden’s head snaps toward the sound. He follows it a few tables over—and freezes.

There she is. Harper. And across from her, a smug-looking bastard in a tailored suit, wine glass in hand, grin oozing entitlement.

“I love you, Harper,” the man says, leaning in like he owns the damn world. “Even your parents will be thrilled if you say yes to just one date.”

“Don’t you ever listen—”

“Shhh. Pretty girls don’t yell at me. They laugh, they smile.” The man grabs her wrist just as she rises to leave.

“Let go of my hand,” Harper says, her voice sharp.

“Not until you say you love me.”

That’s it.

Aiden doesn’t think. He snatches a wine glass off a passing tray and strides toward them like a bullet.

In one swift motion, he tosses the drink right into the man’s face.

The guy yelps, letting go instantly, sputtering.

Harper doesn’t wait—she storms off without a glance back, heels clicking like gunshots.

“You bastard!” the man shouts, wiping at his face.

Aiden feigns a gasp, helping in the fakest way possible. “Oh no. How could I have done something this awful to you?” His voice drips with mock regret.

The man slaps Aiden’s hand away and stalks off, one eye squinting shut, humiliated.

Aiden watches him go, jaw tight. That didn’t feel like enough.

He heads toward a table, grabs a pen, and scribbles quickly on a napkin:

STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE.

Moments later, Aiden finds the guy’s parked car, looks around—empty.

He slips the note inside and flicks a lit cigarette onto the leather passenger seat.

Just a burn mark. Nothing fatal.

Just a warning.

He turns and walks back inside, the fire in his chest finally beginning to cool.

****

Inside the waiting room, Wesley offers Harper a smile for what feels like the hundredth time that evening. She doesn't return it. Not even a glance.

“You don't have to look so tense. He's just a man,” Wesley says, even though his own feet feel like ice. He’s been dreading this moment more than he’ll ever admit.

“This is my last chance, Wesley. If I mess this up, my parents will force me to divorce Aiden. I promised them…” Her voice cracks. “I promised them I'd get this contract. No matter what.”

Wesley nods along, lips stretched into a fake smile, even though a darker part of him wants her to fail. Wants her to realize this pathetic husband of hers—this nobody—isn’t worth it. Ten years of friendship and she still won’t even look his way.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, more to himself than her.

“Mr. Wesley, could you please come in?” a voice calls through the door.

Wesley stands, throws Harper another smile, and walks in.

Inside, the lighting is colder. Sharper. Aiden sits at the far end of the room, sunglasses on, one leg crossed over the other, a coffee cup in hand.

“Good evening, sir,” Wesley says, pulling out a chair to sit.

“Did I ask you to sit, Mr. Wesley?” Aiden asks flatly.

Wesley freezes mid-motion. “I—I’m sorry, sir. I thought… I apologize.”

“Mr. Wesley,” Aiden says, calm and deliberate, “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Wesley nods quickly. “Yes. Absolutely right, sir. You’re just as wise as I’ve heard.”

“I hate flattery,” Aiden replies coolly, taking a sip from his cup. “Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

Wesley shifts nervously. “Of course, sir. I didn’t mean—”

“What do you want from me, Mr. Wesley?”

The question hits like a bullet. Wesley blinks. “Sorry… I don’t quite understand—”

“Oh? So you don’t speak English? Strange, I’ve been speaking it since you walked in.”

Wesley clears his throat, trying to recover. “Sir, I… I need this contract. Whatever it takes. If you want a cut—”

“Wait a fucking minute,” Aiden says, sitting up slightly. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Nothing, sir!” Wesley chuckles awkwardly. “I just mean… I can go to any length to secure this deal.”

Aiden raises a brow, a slow smirk forming. “Any length?”

“Yes, sir. I really need to—” Put that pathetic Aiden in his place,Wesley thinks.

“Alright then.” Aiden casually picks up his coffee, tilts it, and lets a portion spill onto the floor. “Clean that up.”

Wesley stares. “Excuse me?”

Aiden leans back. “You said you’d do anything. Start by taking off that suit and wiping up the mess.”

Wesley’s heart thunders in his chest. That suit cost ten million. His pride? More than that. But the contract... his future...

He forces a tight smile. His fingers tremble as he unbuttons the jacket and kneels.

Aiden watches in silence as Wesley mops the floor with designer fabric worth more than the coffee stand itself.

“Oh wow,” Aiden says with mock wonder. “You really are a man of your word.”

Wesley smiles through gritted teeth. His ears are blazing red. His ego, shattered.

“Now that we've gotten that out of the way,” Aiden continues smoothly, “let’s proceed with the interview.”

He flips lazily through the document Wesley submitted earlier. Barely ten seconds pass before he shuts it.

He pushes the file across the table.

“Mr. Wesley… You don’t meet the required qualifications.”

Wesley stares. Fists clenched. Rage in his blood.

What the fuck!