The Billionaire's Hidden Son-in-Law

Chapter 2: The Chosen Heir

The news spread like fire touching dry leaves.

Henry Donovan, the man who kept everything and everyone in line, was barely holding on in a hospital bed.

And just like that, the balance inside the Donovan estate tilted.

Victoria didn’t waste a moment. Her shock lasted all of five seconds before her eyes lit up with something far more telling. Excitement.

She stood by the grand staircase, phone in hand, her lips curling into a subtle smirk. Her mind moved fast, faster than the pity in the hearts of the staff who whispered about Henry’s condition.

She was already doing the math. The family business, the estate, the overseas accounts. The properties in New York and London. The man hadn’t even drawn his final breath, and Victoria was already picturing herself seated at board meetings, wearing diamond earrings and fake sorrow.

She made a mental note to check the safe in his study. And to speak to the family lawyer.

Meanwhile, Sophia stood frozen in the middle of the dining room. Her phone had nearly slipped from her hand when she got the call.

For all her coldness and arrogance, she had always relied on one constant—her father’s authority.

Now, without it, the world around her felt suddenly shaky. Donovan Industries, built on Henry’s iron will and flawless reputation, could crumble under the weight of just a few rumors.

Her father wasn’t just a man. He was a name investors trusted. If he died… the board might turn. Partners would pull out. The media would dig into the company’s cracks. Sophia pressed her trembling fingers against her temples, trying to maintain her usual calm, but her breath was short.

She wasn’t afraid of losing her father; she was terrified of losing control.

And in all this noise, all this panic, Michael remained on the floor.

Still scrubbing. Still cleaning.

The mop dragged across the marble with a rhythm that betrayed exhaustion. His shirt clung to his back, his knees ached from the cold floor, but he didn’t stop.

He had started this hallway yesterday, and despite the news, he didn’t dare leave it unfinished. No one told him to grieve. No one asked him how he felt.

And yet, his chest was heavy.

For Michael, Henry was never just a rich man or a savior. He was the only soul in that house who ever looked at him like he mattered. Even with his memory gone, even with no real ties to this family, Henry had treated him like he was worth something.

Like he was human.

The others saw Michael as a tool.

Henry had seen him as a person.

As the son the heavens never gave him.

So when the news hit, Michael didn’t cry. He just grew quiet. His hands slowed. His shoulders dropped a little more.

He wanted to go to the hospital, to just sit beside the man who gave him a place in the world, but he knew better. He wasn’t family, not to the rest of them.

Just as the family prepared to leave, Victoria hovered near the door and turned back with one final bite.

“If the floors aren't shining by the time I return,” she said, her tone dripping with poison, “you’ll wish you were the one in that hospital bed.”

Michael didn’t respond. He only nodded and lowered his eyes again.

At the hospital, the sound of machines filled the sterile room. A slow, steady beep tracked the heartbeat of the man who once ruled boardrooms with silence alone.

Henry looked pale. Smaller. The strength that once made men nervous now lay beneath thin blankets, surrounded by tubes.

His breathing was shallow, but his mind was still awake.

When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he asked was, “Where’s Michael?”

Sophia stiffened in the corner. “He’s… at home,” she said quickly. “Handling some things.”

Henry frowned.

He knew a lie when he heard one.

“Go get him,” he said, his voice scratchy but firm. “Now.”

Sophia hesitated, but the way her father stared at her—unblinking, unbending, left no room for negotiation.

She turned to Victoria. “Go get him.”

Moments later, the front doors of the Donovan villa slammed open, and Michael looked up from the floor. His hands were raw now, stained with polish and fatigue.

Victoria entered with the storm of a woman insulted by the wind.

“Unbelievable,” she sneered, seeing him still working. “Of course you’d still be here, like a leech too dumb to know when he’s not wanted.”

Michael stood up slowly, brushing dust from his palms.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” she continued, her voice rising. “Pretending to be humble. Quiet. Winning his sympathy. But I know your type. You want a piece of what’s his. You think because he likes you, you’ll get something when he’s gone. A share. A name. Maybe even the company.”

Michael blinked, taken aback.

He hadn’t thought of any of those things. All he wanted was to make sure Henry was okay. But explaining that to someone like Victoria was like trying to catch smoke in your hands.

She scoffed at his silence. “He’s asking for you. Don’t make him wait. And wipe that expression off your face. Whatever game you’re playing, it ends soon.”

Michael didn’t argue. He just followed her to the car.

The hospital was quiet.

Too quiet.

Michael walked behind Victoria, heart pounding as they reached the private room.

When the door opened and he stepped in, the sight before him hit him like a blow.

Henry, so strong, so proud, was reduced to thin bones and slow breaths. The light in his eyes had dimmed, but when he saw Michael, something flickered.

“Michael,” he whispered, almost like a prayer.

Michael walked over, slowly, unsure of how to speak. His throat felt tight.

“I’m here,” he said gently.

Henry reached for his hand and squeezed.

“You’ve always been good to me,” Henry murmured. “More than anyone.”

Victoria felt her blood boiling beneath her skins.

Michael shook his head. “You saved my life, sir. I’m just grateful.”

“No,” Henry said, his voice firmer now, “you gave mine meaning.”

The room fell silent. Sophia looked uneasy. Victoria rolled her eyes.

But Henry kept his eyes locked on Michael.

He managed to turn to Sophia, asking her and her sister to leave the room for a moment.

Then, with all the weight of a lifetime behind his words, he turned to Michael again and asked:

“Will you like to become the head of the Donovan family?”