The Billionaire's Hidden Son-in-Law

Chapter 7: From Prison to Throne

The moment the lawyer dropped the final line—“Sophia must still be married to him,” the room exploded.

Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth. She staggered backwards, eyes wide with disbelief. “No… no… no, this can’t be true,” she mumbled, her voice breaking into sobs.

Victoria jumped to her feet like something had stung her. “What rubbish are you reading?! This is a joke, right?” she barked, pointing at the lawyer. “You’re lying! You people have planned this with him! That boy must have paid you off, this is nonsense!”

The lawyer adjusted his glasses calmly, unshaken. “Madam, this document was signed, sealed, and witnessed by two senior partners of our firm. Your father gave these instructions himself. Everything was done legally.”

Sophia sank to the couch, still shaking her head. “I divorced him. I signed those papers. I… I didn’t know…”

Bohemia looked from Sophia to Michael with disgust. “So I’ve been wasting my time,” he muttered under his breath, rising to leave the room.

Michael stood quietly at the far end of the room, watching the drama unfold. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t gloating. He only watched the scene unfold, calm, yet heavy inside.

He never asked for this chaos. All he ever wanted was peace and respect.

But now, the very people who treated him like trash were being forced to kneel at the feet of truth.

The next few days turned the Donovan estate upside down.

Investors began calling, partners started asking questions, staff began to shift loyalty. Sophia and Victoria were losing control fast.

Then, it happened.

Victoria, desperate to reclaim the family name and power, cooked up a plan that would change the course of everything.

She invited a young female housekeeper into her room one evening. They spoke in whispers, the girl looking nervous, hesitant. Victoria pushed a brown envelope across the table with her eyes cold.

“Just say he forced himself on you,” she whispered. “We’ll take care of everything else.”

The girl hesitated. “But… he didn’t…”

“Do you want your family to eat this month or not?” Victoria snapped.

The trap was set.

The very next morning, police men stormed into the estate.

“Where is Mr. Michael Hargrove?” one officer shouted.

Michael, who had just finished mopping the west wing, stepped out in confusion.

Two officers grabbed him roughly.

“You’re under arrest for rape!” they announced.

“What?” Michael’s brows furrowed. “That’s not true. I didn’t do anything.”

But they weren’t listening.

Cameras flashed outside the gate as Michael was dragged into the black van. News had already leaked— “Donovan Cleaner Turned Billionaire Rapes Housekeeper!”

Social media went wild.

TV stations carried the story like wildfire. Bloggers twisted facts. Even some of the staff turned their backs, whispering behind his name.

Michael sat in the dark cell, staring at the wall. He said nothing. He cried no tears. This wasn’t the first time the world had treated him like garbage. Only this time, it cut deeper because he had tasted hope. He had finally begun to feel like he mattered.

And just like that, it was all gone.

Sophia watched the news from her room.

Her heart pounded with guilt. Her face was pale.

“He didn’t do it,” she whispered to herself.

But pride tied her tongue. After all the shame she poured on him, how could she defend him now?

Victoria entered her room, tossing her phone on the bed. “Problem solved,” she said.

Sophia looked up. “You did this?”

“I did what needed to be done,” Victoria replied. “Now we can take back control. That boy was beginning to act like he mattered. He was going to steal everything from us.”

Sophia turned away, biting her lip. The room felt colder than ever.

*******************

Weeks passed.

Michael remained in prison. No bail. No lawyer. No visit.

He lay on a thin mat, surrounded by stained walls and broken men. Every night, he replayed Henry’s words in his head—“You’re more than what they see.”

He tried to believe it.

Then came the court day.

The courtroom was filled with murmurs. Cameras lined the hallway. Reporters were ready to destroy what was left of Michael’s name.

Sophia and Victoria didn’t show up. They sent their lawyer instead, confident that the fabricated evidence would do the rest.

Michael sat at the dock, hands cuffed, and his face calm.

The judge cleared his throat. “We are here today to determine the fate of Mr Michael Hargrove, accused of rape...”

The doors at the back burst open.

All heads turned.

A tall, elegant woman stepped in. Dressed in a black coat, dark glasses, and holding a sleek black briefcase.

“Your Honour,” she said, removing her glasses. “My name is Clarissa Wren. I have evidence that will not only prove Mr. Hargrove’s innocence but also reveal who he truly is.”

The courtroom gasped.

Michael’s heart skipped. He recognised her immediately; she was the woman who stopped him in front of the grocery store weeks ago. The one who called him the lost heir.

The judge nodded. “Proceed.”

Clarissa walked confidently to the centre.

“Your Honour, the rape accusation was planted. Here is the confession of the housekeeper, admitting she was paid to lie.”

Gasps filled the air.

The judge frowned. “Where is this girl now?”

“In protective custody,” Clarissa replied. “And here—” she opened the briefcase, “—are the DNA results, adoption papers, hospital records, and a sworn affidavit confirming Mr. Michael Hargrove is, in fact, the missing heir of the Ainsley family.”

A wave of shock hit the room like thunder.

Reporters dropped their pens.

Even the judge leaned back in his seat, speechless for a moment.

“Are you saying…?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, Your Honour. Michael is not only innocent, he is the legitimate heir to the most powerful family in this city.”