REJECTED BY THE HEIR AFTER DIVORCE

The laughter around the long dining table was sharp, brittle, the kind of laughter meant not for joy, but for mockery. Every word, every sneer, every sideways glance had its target, and Adrian Cole knew well enough by now who it was.

Him. Always him. The Grant mansion’s chandelier cast its golden light across polished crystal and silver cutlery, but for Adrian, the glitter felt like a spotlight on his shame.

He sat at the far end, dressed neatly but without extravagance, his shoulders slightly bent, as if trying to make himself smaller.

“Elena,” her cousin smirked, leaning lazily against his chair, “don’t you get tired of dragging this… nobody along to family gatherings? He looks more like the help than your husband.”

The table erupted in chuckles. Elena, radiant in her silk dress, did not defend him. She never did. She swirled her wine with an indifferent flick of her wrist, eyes fixed on the ruby liquid as if Adrian didn’t exist.

A slow burn twisted in Adrian’s chest. He wanted, just once, to hear her say something, anything, to remind him that this marriage was real, that he wasn’t simply the family’s punching bag. But Elena’s silence was more cutting than any insult.

Her mother sniffed disdainfully, adding, “Honestly, Elena, you could have done so much better. What does he even do all day? Living off you, no doubt.”

The words stabbed deep, though they were far from true. Adrian worked tirelessly, shouldering expenses Elena never noticed, pouring his energy into ventures she never cared to ask about. But he swallowed it all, the way he always did.

Because he loved her. God help him, he loved her still. “Don’t worry, Mother,” Elena finally spoke, her voice cool and smooth, “he knows his place.”

A round of laughter followed. Adrian forced a smile, his hands tightening under the table where no one could see. He had grown used to this ritual of humiliation.

What he could never grow used to was the aching hollowness that followed, the endless question that haunted him: How much longer can I endure this?

When the dinner finally ended, Adrian excused himself from the table under the pretense of making a phone call. In truth, he simply needed air.

The Grants’ gilded halls felt more like a cage than a home, every portrait of smug ancestors glaring down at him as though he were trespassing.

He loosened his tie and stepped out onto the balcony, inhaling the night air. The city stretched before him, its towers lit in glittering constellations. Somewhere down there, his company’s office still glowed, a modest start-up he had poured his soul into.

The Grants thought he was useless because he never flaunted it, but he had been steadily funneling profits into Elena’s ventures, covering losses she never even realized she’d had.

He rubbed at his tired eyes. Every hour he worked, every deal he made, all of it had been for her. For them. For the hope that one day, she would look at him differently.

Behind him, heels clicked against the marble. Elena emerged, her figure framed by the soft glow of the interior lights. “You shouldn’t storm off like that,” she said coolly, sipping her wine.

Adrian turned, searching her face for warmth. He found none. “Storm off? Elena, they humiliate me every time I sit at that table. And you…” His voice faltered. “…you let them.”

Her gaze sharpened, lips curling in faint disdain. “What would you have me do? Defend you? Pick fights with my family because you can’t take a few jokes?”

“A few jokes?” He laughed bitterly. “You know it’s more than that. They don’t see me as your husband. They see me as”

“As what you are,” she cut in, her words as sharp as ice. “A man I married because I was too naive to know better.”

The air left Adrian’s lungs like a blow. He stared at her, the woman he had given everything to, and for the first time, he wondered if she had ever loved him at all.

“Elena…” His voice cracked. “I’ve sacrificed everything for you. My career. My opportunities. I work myself to the bone to make sure you never have to worry about anything”

Her laugh was short and cruel. “Don’t flatter yourself. Whatever pennies you make, they’re nothing compared to my family’s name.”

Something inside him twisted hard, a coil of pain so deep it almost stole his breath. He turned away, gripping the balcony rail until his knuckles whitened.

The city lights blurred, as though the world itself was mocking his blindness. And yet, despite it all, he loved her. That was his curse.