Rise Of The Broken Son In Law

The man no one want

Ethan woke slowly. He had just dozed off for a few minutes, but somehow it felt like forever.

When he raised his head, something was different. His body no longer felt like a prison—it felt like a weapon, honed and alive. Thoughts came faster than he could grasp, whole streams of knowledge pouring into him before he even summoned them. His body moved without hesitation, a natural rhythm guiding him.

He rose from the bathtub, water cascading off his skin and pooling across the bathroom tiles. The moment his bare feet touched the ground, it was as though a floodgate had opened. Medicine. Mathematics. Philosophy. Human secrets buried so deep no man should know them. His mind was no longer limited—it was open to all that there is and all that will be.

And his body—light, agile, unnaturally powerful. He could see everything sharper, clearer. Almost invisible strands of cotton floating in the air, dust swirling in patterns like sacred symbols. He felt the mysterious forces of the universe converging toward him, whispering to him, beckoning him.

A sudden, primal desire surged in him—to bury his feet into the soil, to merge with the earth, to drink from its raw, untamed beauty.

Instead, he dressed quickly, pulling on a shirt and trousers, and drifted toward the kitchen with an odd hum rising from his throat.

The sound surprised him.

He hadn’t hummed in years.

And yet now… his life felt beautiful. Too beautiful. The old man’s voice echoed in his memory, soft but firm, the promise he had once dismissed. Ethan smiled faintly. He should never have doubted him in the first place.

In the kitchen, he opened the cupboard. His eyes fell on the collection of petty herbs: bay leaf, rosemary, lemongrass. Things he had ignored for years suddenly looked like treasures.

He raised a sprig of rosemary to the sunlight streaming through the small window. He turned it over, studying the fibers, the subtle veins. His mind dissected it instantly—its oils, its healing properties, its reaction with other herbs.

If I really know as much as I think I do… then let’s test it.

He moved like a man who had done this a thousand times before. His hands measured without measuring, precise and confident. He combined the leaves, water, and flame with a grace he didn’t know he possessed.

Some minutes later, he had made a steaming cup of hibiscus tea.

He lifted it to his lips and took a sip.

The flavor burst across his tongue—perfect balance, perfect warmth. His chest expanded, his throat soothed, his mind sharpened. It was flawless.

A low laugh escaped him. He couldn’t believe it. He had actually made something so refined, so healing. The Ethan of yesterday would never have attempted this.

Sliding into a chair, he took his time, savoring every drop. For the first time in years, he felt like a man enjoying his own company.

“Mr. Clark!”

The sudden voice startled him. A maid had stepped into the kitchen, gasping as if she had stumbled upon a forbidden sight. She froze, her eyes darting from the tea in his hand to the light in his eyes.

Ethan rose slowly, turning to leave. He didn’t care what she thought. He already knew the way the staff whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening. A useless husband. A burden. At least some of them had the decency to pretend respect.

But not this one.

“Wait!” the maid blurted, wringing her hands nervously. “Did you hear the news?”

Ethan paused mid-step, curiosity flickering across his face.

“The family…” she lowered her voice as though the walls might snitch on her. “They’re in big trouble. Something about the company. I heard the others talking—something about a lawsuit. A big one.”

Ethan tilted his head, lips twitching faintly. “Ah.” His reply was vague, nonchalant, but his mind sparked with memory. He recalled the fragments from earlier—the shouting, Lila’s taunting, Lyndia’s furious voice. They had mentioned something about the company. Normally, business was the last thing he cared about. But now? Now, his curiosity burned too bright to ignore.

The maid’s mouth parted. Her eyes widened. “Y-you can talk?”

The tray in her hands rattled. She looked at him as though she’d seen a ghost.

Ethan gave no answer. He simply walked past her, quiet and steady.

He could already imagine the gossip that would spread. She would run to the others, whispering that the mute husband had spoken. They’d laugh at her, call her insane, swear she was making it up.

And perhaps that was better.

A strange, quiet song rose from his lips as he stepped out of the kitchen, his humming growing into a tune only he recognized."And I say......Will you, willl you ever love me? Ever, ever, ever...? He walked down the long corridor, heading straight toward Lila’s office.

Ethan started to laugh. The sound startled even him—deep, rough, almost sinful in its timbre. Tears pricked his eyes, and he brushed them away quickly. Who would have thought his voice could sound like this? After years of silence, years of being dismissed as a mute shadow, he had almost forgotten he had one at all.

For so long, life had been nothing but survival. He had lost the will to live. Suicide had crossed his mind too many times, but every attempt ended the same—the blurred face of a man appearing in his mind, pulling him back from the edge. That ghost kept him alive when nothing else did.

But now… now the despair had lifted. For the first time, he felt something different. Power. Control.

His footsteps carried him down the corridor, but before he even reached the office doors, the murmur of voices sliced into him.

“Isn’t that Clark’s mute husband?” one man sneered, the words followed by a short burst of laughter. “What a joke.”

Another voice joined in, laced with mockery. “Why does she even stay with him? I mean, what’s the point?”

“I guess she enjoys keeping a freeloader,” someone else chuckled.

“Please,” a woman’s voice chimed in, smug and sharp. “With a company as big as hers and a career booming like that? Of course she doesn’t mind dragging around deadweight. Makes her look charitable.”

A louder snort followed. “That husband of hers… doesn’t he have a shred of shame in his bones?”

Ethan froze mid-step, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles cracked. Rage surged through him, but he swallowed it back down. No. Not now. Not here.

Without a word, he turned from their poisoned whispers and pushed toward the consultation room where he knew Lila would be.

He was almost at the door when another voice filtered through, sharper than the rest.

“Are they trying to say she came here to frame you? Look at my face!” a woman snapped.

He paused, ears straining.

Then came his wife’s voice—Lila. Soft, strained, trying to stay composed. “No… she didn’t say that. She only meant… there was a misunderstanding in the past. Miss Mia, you have to understand.”

But Mia’s reply was venomous. “Understand? Lila, you should know better. You can’t face the world like this! You either treat me, or you pay for the damages. You know what I’d like to do? I’ll sue your company, Miss Clark.”

Something inside Ethan snapped.

He couldn’t stay outside anymore. He pushed the door open and stepped in.

The room froze.

A young woman—Mia—sat on a chair, her face twisted with arrogance. Surrounding her were the people who had made his life a living hell: Elizabeth, his wife’s younger sister with venom in her tongue; Lydia, his iron-hearted mother-in-law; and Avia, the other sister, watching with her arms folded like a judge at trial.

Lila stood too, beautiful but cornered, her shoulders trembling with the weight of accusation.

Ethan’s gaze swept past them… and stopped cold.

Kelvin Stones.

The man who had haunted his marriage. The man his wife had once loved.

He was there too.