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

You can't be serious

As they settled into their new seats on the second floor, Margaret's eyes gleamed with curiosity and greed.

"Did anyone hear what the manager said?" she whispered conspiratorially. 

"The mysterious VIP is throwing a celebration for some woman. A private party on the top floor!"

"Imagine being that lucky," Patricia sighed dreamily. 

"To have someone so powerful throwing you a party!"

"It must be someone incredibly important," Robert added. 

"Maybe a senator's daughter or a foreign dignitary?"

Sarah's eyes lit up with malicious glee as she spotted Elena sitting quietly in the corner.

 "Oh! Oh! I know who it must be!" She pointed dramatically at Elena, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's obviously for our dear cousin Elena! The mysterious billionaire must have fallen head over heels for our little embezzler!"

The table erupted in hysterical laughter.

"Elena and a billionaire?" Richard wheezed.

"Maybe he has a fetish for women who steal from their own families!" Vincent added with a cruel smirk.

Elena's face burned with humiliation, but before she could respond, Karvel's calm voice cut through the mockery.

"Actually, you're right. The celebration is for Elena."

The laughter died instantly, then exploded even louder than before.

"OH MY GOD!" Sarah shrieked, clutching her sides.

 "He's actually doubling down on this delusion!"

“Someone call a vet,” Richard howled.

“This mutt’s finally gone rabid!”

"What's next?" 

 "Are you going to tell us you're actually a secret prince in disguise?"

 "This is the funniest thing I've heard all year!"

Vincent suddenly straightened, a calculating look crossing his face.

 "You know what? This could actually work out perfectly."

All eyes turned to him.

"My father has extensive connections throughout the city," Vincent continued smoothly. 

"It's possible he knows this VIP personally. Elena, if you divorce this delusional fleabag and marry me instead, I might be able to arrange an introduction."

Margaret's eyes lit up immediately.

 "Vincent! You brilliant boy! This is the opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Elena," Margaret's voice turned deadly serious.

 "I'm giving you one final choice. Divorce this pathetic trash right now and marry Vincent, or I'm calling the police to arrest both of you for theft."

"Grandmother, you can't be serious—" Elena began.

"Dead serious!" Margaret slammed her hand on the table. 

“He has dragged you down long enough! It's time to cut the leash!"

"Think about it logically, Elena," Richard chimed in.

 "Divorce him, you may get connections with the most powerful people in the country!"

Elena looked around the table, her face pale. 

Her entire family was staring at her expectantly, their faces cold and calculating.

"I... I can't just—" Elena's voice cracked.

"Yes, you can!" Margaret's voice was ice-cold.

 "Choose now, or spend the next decade in prison with your worthless husband!"

"Don't worry," Karvel said quietly, his hand gently touching Elena's shoulder. "Everything will be fine."

Elena looked at him desperately.

How could he be so calm?  Didn’t he understand how serious it was?

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the restaurant's sound system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored to announce the arrival of Mr. Sebastian Morrison, owner of the Morrison Hotel Chain and Morrison Industries!"

The entire room fell silent as if someone had sucked all the air out of it.

Margaret's fork clattered to her plate.

 "Sebastian... Morrison?"

"The Sebastian Morrison?" Patricia whispered. 

"The one who's been featured on the cover of Forbes three times?"

"The same Sebastian Morrison who had dinner with the President last month?" Robert's voice was barely audible.

The grand doors of the banquet hall swung open, and Sebastian Morrison entered with the presence of a king. 

Tall, distinguished, with silver hair and a perfectly tailored suit, he commanded attention without saying a word.

Margaret practically leaped from her chair, smoothing her dress frantically. 

"Mr. Morrison! What an incredible honor! You must be here because of Vincent! What a wonderful surprise!”

At the same time, Vincent smiled smugly and stood up, striding confidently toward Sebastian Morrison.

He knew it—Morrison must have heard he was here and came specifically to see him.

Those security guards who had the nerve to kick him off the third floor earlier?

He’d make sure Morrison fired every last one of them later!

 "Mr. Morrison, sir! I'm Vincent Langford. My father’s —"

Everyone turned toward Vincent expectantly.

This was it—his moment.

But Morrison didn’t even look at him.

He walked straight past Vincent… as if he were invisible.

Vincent’s outstretched hand hung awkwardly in the air. His confident smirk faltered.

Then Morrison stopped. 

In front of Karvel.

And bowed.

"Sir," he said with profound respect, "I sincerely apologize for the delay. Please do me the honor by allowing me to escort you and your wife to the top floor."