THE DISGUSTING SON-IN-LAW WON'T TOLERATE INSULT ANYMORE

I want divorce

The hotel gleamed like a palace of polished marble and pride. Seven floors of luxury, with access tiered like a social ladder—only the rich could even breathe on the first. The third floor? That was reserved for the elite.

Karvel stood outside the revolving doors, watching guests flow in, draped in designer suits and diamond-dripping dresses. Even the bellboys here probably earned more respect than I did in that family.

This year’s banquet for Grandma Helen’s birthday was being hosted on the third floor—for the first time ever.

All thanks to Vincent Langford.The golden goose with a Rolex in one hand and someone else's wife on his arm.

Elena’s parents were practically floating with arrogance.

“Third floor, baby!” her father beamed. “We’re finally stepping above those second-floor peasants.”

“Wait till Mother sees this,” her mother added. “We’ll finally get some real recognition. All thanks to Vincent.”

Karvel’s jaw tightened. So that’s what this is. They think Vincent is their ladder back to power.

He remembered the whispered family drama. Years ago, Elena’s grandfather had willed the company to her line. But Grandma Helen rewrote that history, slicing the inheritance and feeding the family scraps.

They’d married Elena to Karvel because they needed her “legally” married to inherit anything. He had needed money. They had needed a pawn. It was a business transaction with vows.

And now? Now they wanted a refund.

“Honestly,” her mother sighed, adjusting her pearl necklace, “if only we’d married her to Vincent from the start. No fleas, no failures, no shame.”

Karvel was about to respond when screeching tires stole everyone’s attention.

A sleek black Rolls-Royce slid to the curb.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” her father cooed. “Here comes our ticket to the fourth floor next year!”

The door opened—and Vincent stepped out, all smirks and smugness.

Then Elena followed.

From the passenger seat.

Karvel’s stomach turned. She was actually with him. After everything.

She looked flawless, of course—always had. But as she stepped out of that car next to Vincent, it wasn’t beauty Karvel saw. It was betrayal.

The last flicker of hope inside him died.

Her parents rushed toward Vincent like bees to honey.

“Mr. Langford! You made it!” her mother beamed.

“So honored!” her father chimed in, grabbing Vincent’s hand with a sweaty grip. “You showing up brings glory to the entire family.”

Vincent adjusted his cufflinks like a show poodle waiting for applause. “Of course. Anything for Gloria.” He smiled sideways at Elena.

She didn’t return it.

“Hey,” Karvel called, his voice low but firm. “Why were you with him?”

Elena turned, eyes narrowing as they landed on his torn shirt and bruised face.

“What happened to you? You look like you got in a fight with a lawnmower.”

“Answer the question,” Karvel said.

“I was working,” she snapped. “You think I have time to sit around and bark at the moon like you?”

“Working?” he repeated, voice cold. “From his car?”

Her eyes flicked away. “Don’t be paranoid. I’ve got a dozen meetings a day. Sorry I don’t live in the back alley like you.”

Vincent chuckled. “You jealous, mutt? Don’t worry, I let her keep the leash on in the car.”

Her mother giggled behind a manicured hand. “Still clinging to scraps, huh, Karvel? Should’ve brought a begging bowl.”

Karvel gave a bitter smile. So this is what it’s come to. I’m a stray to them. A mutt chasing a master who never wanted him.

“I need to talk to you,” he said to Elena.

She rolled her eyes. “Now? The banquet is starting.”

“It won’t take long.”

She followed him grudgingly to the side garden, heels clicking like a countdown. “Make it quick. Grandma doesn’t like latecomers, and neither do I.”

He turned to her, face calm despite the storm in his chest.

“I want a divorce.”

Elena blinked.

“…What?”

“I said I want a divorce.”