Ridiculed into Wealth

The scent of rosemary lamb and fine red wine clung to the air as waiters weaved between glass tables and cold glances. The Montgomery family estate was alight with celebration — not for him, of course. He was only the shadow trailing behind their precious daughter.

Liam Carter stood near the back, half-hidden behind a curtain, wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit. The sleeves were too long. The collar too tight. He adjusted his tie for the third time and told himself he belonged. But he didn’t believe it.

How could he with the way, they treated him like an outcast? He had at first thought they would change if they saw his sincerity and how much he loved Natalie but after three years and there hadn't been any improvement in their treatment of him, instead, their behavior towards him had worsened, he had given up hope that there ever would be

Tonight was the 60th birthday of Harold Montgomery, patriarch of the Montgomery family — and Liam’s father-in-law.

He wasn’t invited to speak. Or toast. Or sit at the head table beside his wife, Natalie.

She hadn’t even looked at him since they arrived. And he wondered why she had bothered to invite him at all.

What had happened to their relationship? Had she grown tired of defending him? Grown sick of his dependance? Started seeing her family's point of view?

She hadn't as yet said anything to make him think that she no longer wanted him but her actions were no longer how the used to be at first. And action speaks louder than words, as there saying goes.

She had bought sometimes him clothes in the first year of their marriage, but she stopped and he didn't ask her why.

He watched her now, laughing at something her brother whispered in her ear, her fingers brushing a strand of blond hair over her ear. She looked elegant. Breathtaking. Untouchable. Just like they first met, only more so.. He desired her but fir some time now, she hadn't allowed him into her bed.

Oh, they slept sometimes in the same bed but she always had an excuse why they couldn't make love.

Sometimes it was, "Honey, I'm tired".

Or

"I'm having my period, honey"

Or

"I just have to finish this work. Have to present it tomorrow. It's very important and urgent."

And with such excuses of work brought home, ssshe either says,. "Don't wait I, this will take a while".

Or

"I will just finish this and join you soonest".

And by the time she came to bed, he was already asleep.

When he wasn't, and tried to touch her, she would yawn and shrug his hands off.

"Honey, I'm dead beat. Could we do this tomorrow?"

"Very well", her would answer knowing that there would be more excuses on the morrow.

“Excuse me,” a waiter said, brushing past.

Liam stepped aside quickly — too quickly. A woman in a sequined dress gave him a once-over and muttered, “God, they really let anyone in these days.”

He smiled tightly, ignoring it. It wasn’t new. He was used to it.

For the past three years, he had been the butt of every Montgomery joke. A project husband, they called him. Natalie had married him out of rebellion — a poor orphan from nowhere, with no college degree, no family name, no ambition. The black sheep of high society.

At least, that's how they saw it.

He hadn’t come for their approval. He had come for her. But somewhere along the way, Natalie stopped fighting for him, and he started forgetting how to fight for himself.

A chime of a spoon on crystal silenced the room. Harold stood, tall and grey, beaming with importance.

“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight,” he began, voice polished with authority. “To friends, family… and the future of the Montgomery legacy.”

Applause.

He raised his glass. “And a special thanks to my children. To Charles, my eldest — whose business acumen has already tripled the Montgomery Group’s quarterly gains…”

More applause. Charles grinned.

“And of course, to my daughter Natalie. My light. My pride. My only mistake was letting her marry a man who—”

He paused. Everyone looked at him.

Harold smiled, but it was cruel. “Well… let’s just say we all make mistakes.”

The room erupted with laughter. Polite, poisonous laughter.

Liam felt every eye turn to him. The guests whispering among themselves. He needed no fortune teller to know they were talking about him.

Even the waiter beside him chuckled.

The servants were even more valued in the Montgomery household than he, the son in- law. It was as bad as that.

Natalie didn’t defend him. She didn’t flinch. She lifted her wine and sipped.

He swallowed the knot in his throat. He thought he had developed a thick skin about all this. Then why did it still hurt? Why was his worth gauged by the amount of money he has or didn't have and the company he didn't have?

A tap on his shoulder made him turn.

It was Charles, looking smug.

“There’s a valet ticket in the kitchen for you,” Charles said. “My father asked me to tell you—he doesn’t want you here when the press arrives.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. “I’m family", he said, tightly.

Charles leaned close. “You were a charity case. You still are. Just sign the divorce papers when they come.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

The music started again. Laughter returned. And Liam Carter walked out into the night alone. Wondering how long he was going to continue to endure the degradation, disregard and humiliation, jetted out to him by his in-laws and how his wife could sit still and allow her family treat him this way.

Meanwhile, twenty blocks away, a black car cruised through the night.

Inside, an elderly man in a tailored suit looked through a file, his expression unreadable.

"So... he really is alive," the old man whispered, tapping Liam’s photo.

"My grandson survived. And they buried him in a dead man’s name."