THE DRAGON SON IN LAW RETURNS

Chapter 3- Divorce papers

Ethan returned to the Harrison mansion to find it in chaos. Cars lined the circular driveway, expensive cars belonging to various Harrison relatives who'd come for what was clearly an impromptu family gathering.

He knew what this was about before he even entered.

The moment he stepped through the door, the noise hit him. Laughter, excited chatter, the clink of champagne glasses. In the living room, at least twenty people had gathered, all dressed in their finest, all celebrating something.

His impending destruction.

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence!" Derek's voice boomed across the room. "The man of the hour! Or should I say, the man whose hours are numbered?"

Raucous laughter followed.

Ethan's eyes swept the room, taking in every face. Sophia's parents, Margaret and Richard Harrison. Her brothers Derek and Jonathan. Various aunts, uncles, cousins—all people who'd spent three years treating him like a servant.

And there, in the center of it all, sat Sophia with Marcus Wellington beside her, his arm draped possessively over her shoulders.

"Ethan, come in, come in!" Richard Harrison called out, his voice dripping with false cheer. He was a portly man with thinning hair and a red face from too much alcohol. "We're having a little celebration. You should join us!"

"Celebrating what?" Ethan asked, though he already knew.

"Freedom!" Margaret declared, raising her champagne flute. "My daughter's freedom from the worst mistake of her life!"

More laughter followed. Ethan noticed his wife wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Sophia?" he said quietly.

She finally looked up, and there was something almost like guilt in her expression. But it was quickly replaced by stubbornness .

"Ethan, we need to talk," she said, standing up. Marcus's hand slipped from her shoulder reluctantly. "Privately."

"Oh no, no, no!" Derek jumped up, swaying slightly. He'd clearly been drinking. "No private talks. We're all family here! Well, most of us are family. Some of us are just... temporary embarrassments."

"Derek, shut up," Sophia snapped, but there was no real heat in it.

She walked toward Ethan, and he noticed she was carrying a folder. A very official-looking folder.

When she reached him, she stood close enough that only he could hear her whisper:

"I'm sorry it has to be like this."

"Are you?" he asked softly. "Are you really?"

She thrust the folder into his hands. "Just sign them. Please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Ethan opened the folder. Divorce papers. Already filled out, already signed by Sophia. All they needed was his signature.

"Three years," he said, his voice still quiet. "Three years of marriage, and you're ending it in front of an audience."

"You think I wanted this circus? This is my family. You know how they are."

"I do know. I've watched them for three years. And I've watched you become just like them."

Sophia's face hardened. "Don't act like you're the victim here, Ethan. You trapped me in this marriage. My father was dying, the company was failing, and you offered money—money that mysteriously appeared from God knows where. You manipulated the situation!"

Ethan almost laughed. The money had come from one of his shell accounts—barely a fraction of his wealth. He'd lent it to Richard's company interest-free, saving Harrison Industries from bankruptcy.

The condition had been marriage to Sophia, yes, but he'd genuinely believed she might be different. That underneath her privileged exterior, there might be a good person.

He'd been wrong.

"I'm not going to argue with you," he said. "If you want a divorce, I'll give you one."

Sophia blinked, surprised by his easy compliance. "Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Well!" Margaret's voice cut through their conversation. She'd been watching like a hawk. "Don't keep us in suspense! Are you signing or are you going to be difficult?"

Marcus stood up and walked over, positioning himself next to Sophia. The message was clear: out with the old, in with the new.

"Be smart about this, Ethan," Marcus said, his voice friendly but his eyes cold. "You had a good run, living above your station. But it's over now. Sign the papers, and maybe we'll let you leave with some dignity intact."

"Dignity?" Ethan repeated, and for the first time, there was an edge to his voice. "You're going to lecture me about dignity?"

Marcus's smile faltered slightly. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing." Ethan took a pen from the folder. "Where do I sign?"

Sophia pointed to several marked spots. Her hand was shaking slightly—the only sign that maybe, somewhere deep down, this bothered her.

But not enough to stop it.

Ethan signed each spot with quick, efficient strokes. As he did, he was acutely aware of every eye in the room watching him. Waiting for him to break down or beg.

.

Instead, he closed the folder and handed it back to Sophia.

"There. You're free."

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Someone popped another bottle of champagne. Derek was literally dancing.

"Best day ever!" he shouted. "We're finally rid of the garbage man!"

"Good riddance!" Margaret added. "Sophia, darling, now you can marry someone worthy of the Harrison name!"

Marcus pulled Sophia close and kissed her lips, making sure Ethan saw. Sophia allowed it, even leaned into it.

Ethan watched, his face expressionless. Three years of humiliation, and this was how it ended. With applause and celebration.

"Well, don't just stand there," Richard said, making shooing motions. "You're not part of this family anymore. Get your things and get out."

"I don't have many things," Ethan replied. "I'll be gone in twenty minutes."

As he turned to leave, Margaret called out: "And don't think about coming back! Don't think about begging for forgiveness! The Harrisons have standards, and you never met them!"

Ethan paused at the doorway, his back to them. For a long moment, he stood there, silent.

Then he spoke, his voice carrying clearly through the suddenly quiet room:

"You're right about one thing, Mrs. Harrison. The Harrisons do have standards. Very low ones, it turns out. I just didn't realize how low until now."

"How dare you!" Margaret sputtered. "You ungrateful—"

But Ethan was already walking up the stairs, leaving behind the sounds of outrage and indignation.

In the room he'd occupied for three years—a small guest room barely larger than a closet—he gathered his few possessions. Some clothes. A couple of books. A photo of his parents, long deceased.

As he packed, his encrypted phone buzzed.

"Commander, surveillance indicates celebration at Harrison residence. Should we proceed to phase two?"

Ethan typed back: "Not yet. Let them celebrate. Let them think they've won. The higher they fly now, the harder they'll fall later."

"Understood. Also, Wellington has just transferred 50 million to Harrison Industries as a 'good faith investment.' He's moving fast."

"Of course he is. He's a shark, and they're chum in the water. Monitor all transactions. I want to know exactly how he plans to destroy them."

"Yes, Commander. One more thing—your presence is requested at the National Heroes Gala next week. The President personally wants to award you the Star of Valor for your service."

Ethan smiled grimly. "Decline. Schedule conflict."

"Sir, with respect, this is the nation's highest honor. The President—"

"Will understand. Tell him I'll accept it next month. After I've handled some... personal business."

"As you command."

Ethan finished packing, took one last look at the small room that had been his cage for three years, and walked out.

Downstairs, the party was still going strong. As he descended the grand staircase with his single duffel bag, the room gradually fell silent.

"That's it?" Derek laughed. "One bag? Three years and that's all you have? God, you really are pathetic."

Ethan reached the bottom of the stairs and paused. Every Harrison family member was staring at him. Sophia stood next to Marcus, her arm linked with his.

"Sophia," Ethan said one final time.

She lifted her chin defiantly. "What?"

"Three years. I gave you three years. Remember that."

"Three years of what? Mediocrity? Please. I'm forgetting you already."

Marcus smirked. "Run along now, Ethan. The adults have celebrating to do."

Ethan looked at Marcus for a long moment. This man had no idea what was coming. None of them did.

"Marcus Wellington," Ethan said softly. "I'll remember that name."

Something in his tone made Marcus's smirk falter, but he quickly recovered. "I'm sure you will. I'm quite memorable."

Ethan walked to the door. As his hand touched the handle, Richard called out:

"Wait!"

Ethan turned.

Richard held up a document. "You still owe us. The loan money you gave the company when we were struggling—three hundred thousand dollars. As per the prenuptial agreement, we don't owe you anything in the divorce. But that debt? That's still owed to you. Come by next week and we'll write you a check. Consider it severance pay for your years of... service."

The man actually looked proud of himself, like he was being generous.

Ethan almost told him the truth—that the "loan" had been a gift, that three hundred thousand dollars was pocket change, that he could buy and sell Harrison Industries a thousand times over.

But he didn't.

"Keep it," Ethan said. "Consider it payment for the education I received here."

"Education?" Margaret snorted. "What education? How to take out trash?"

"No," Ethan replied, his eyes sweeping across every face in the room. "How to identify trash. That lesson was invaluable."

Before anyone could respond, he walked out the door and into the night.

Behind him, the celebration resumed, louder than before.

They thought they'd won.

They had no idea the game had only just begun.

Ethan stood in the circular driveway, looking back at the mansion—then his phone buzzed again.

"Commander, your car is waiting. Also, the Prime Minister of Japan has requested a meeting. And the CEO of Blackstone wants to discuss their merger proposal."

Ethan looked at his battered sedan, still parked where he'd left it, and smiled.

"Tell them I'll be available tomorrow. Tonight

, I have more important things to do."

"Sir?"

"I need to prepare for a funeral."

"A funeral, sir? Who died?"

Ethan's smile turned cold as ice.

"The Harrison family. They just don't know it yet."