The Forsaken Son-in-Law’s Trillion-Dollar Harem

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The car moved through the city like it belonged to a different world. Ethan sat in the back, one hand resting on the soft leather seat, watching buildings he used to pass on foot slide by in silence. The driver didn’t speak unless spoken to. No music played. Just the low hum of the engine and the occasional soft click of the turn signal. It felt strange to be driven instead of driving. Stranger still to know that the man behind the wheel worked for him now.

He pulled out his old phone and stared at the cracked screen. Three missed calls from Isabella. One from Helen. He didn’t open them. Not yet. The weight of what Harlan had said still sat heavy in his chest, but it wasn’t the money that pressed on him. It was the sudden absence of the life he’d been living. No more burnt toast complaints. No more cold shoulders at the breakfast table. No more pretending he didn’t hear the whispers when he walked into a room.

The car slowed in front of a glass tower that caught the afternoon light like a blade. Cross Tower. He’d seen it from a distance before, never up close. Never knowing it had anything to do with him. The driver opened the door. Ethan stepped out, and the air felt different here — cleaner, sharper, like even the city knew something had shifted.

A man in a dark suit waited at the entrance. Harlan Vale looked exactly like he sounded on the phone: mid-fifties, silver at the temples, calm eyes that missed nothing. He extended a hand.

“Welcome home, Mr. Cross.”

Ethan shook it. The grip was firm, respectful. No one had shaken his hand like that in three years.

“Ethan is fine,” he said. “For now.”

Harlan nodded once. “As you wish. We’ve prepared the penthouse on the top floor for you. Everything is ready whenever you are. Your accounts are active. The board has been notified that the heir has returned, though we kept the details minimal as requested.”

They walked through the lobby. People moved out of the way without being asked. Eyes followed him, not with mockery, but with careful curiosity. A woman at the reception desk smiled at him — a real smile, warm and professional. It had been so long since anyone smiled at him without calculation that it caught him off guard.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the entire city spread out below like it was waiting. The space was clean, modern, expensive without trying too hard. A kitchen that looked like it had never been used. A living area big enough to hold meetings in. A hallway that probably led to bedrooms he didn’t need to see yet.

Harlan stayed near the door. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’ll be your primary point of contact for the transition. Mia Chen. She handles personal affairs, scheduling, and anything that requires… discretion.”

A woman stepped out from one of the side rooms.

She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a tailored black blouse tucked into fitted trousers that followed the curve of her hips and thighs without being tight. She had the kind of figure that made clothes look better on her than on the hanger — soft where it counted, strong in the shoulders, confident in the way she carried herself. When she smiled, it reached her eyes.

“Mr. Cross,” she said, voice smooth and warm. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve been preparing for this day for a while.”

Ethan met her gaze and felt something small and alive stir in his chest for the first time in longer than he could remember. Not lust exactly. Not yet. Just… recognition. Like she saw him as a man instead of a problem to be managed.

“Mia,” he said. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You don’t have to thank me. This is my job. But I’m glad you’re here. The last few years couldn’t have been easy.”

She didn’t know the details. Harlan had kept things tight. But she said it like she meant it anyway. Like she could imagine what it had cost him to walk into that mansion every day and come out smaller.

Harlan cleared his throat gently. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Mia has full authority to handle anything you need. If you want to review the holdings, she can walk you through the key divisions. If you want to rest first, that’s fine too. There’s no rush.”

He left, and the penthouse felt quieter with just the two of them.

Mia didn’t rush to fill the silence. She walked to the kitchen island, opened a drawer, and pulled out a black card with his name already embossed on it.

“This is yours. Unlimited access. The accounts are linked to the main holdings. If you want to move money, make purchases, anything at all — it’s ready.”

Ethan took the card. It felt heavier than it should. He thought about the times he’d counted coins to buy groceries because Helen had “forgotten” to transfer the monthly allowance. About the nights he’d worn the same shirt twice because he didn’t want to ask for more.

Mia watched him without judgment. “You don’t have to decide everything today. Most people in your position take a few days to adjust. But if there’s anything from your old life you want handled… quietly… I can take care of it.”

He looked at her. Really looked. The way her blouse pulled slightly across her chest when she moved. The soft line of her waist. The calm steadiness in her eyes. She wasn’t performing for him. She was simply there, offering help like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“There’s one thing,” he said. “Isabella. My wife. Ex-wife, soon. She’s been calling.”

Mia nodded. “We can block the numbers if you want. Or we can have someone deliver a message. Or…” She paused, giving him space. “You can decide later. No pressure.”

Ethan slipped the card into his pocket. The weight of it settled against his thigh like an anchor.

“I don’t want to block her yet,” he said. “But I’m not ready to talk to her either.”

“That’s fair.” Mia’s voice stayed warm. “You’ve earned the right to take your time.”

She moved to the window, looking out at the city with him. The afternoon light caught the side of her face, highlighting the gentle fullness of her cheeks and the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She didn’t fill the space with unnecessary words. She just stood there, present, letting him breathe in a place that finally felt like it could belong to him.

After a moment she spoke again, softer. “For what it’s worth… I read the file Harlan put together. Not the personal details, just the broad strokes. You stayed when most men would have walked away. That says something about you.”

Ethan didn’t answer right away. He thought about Isabella’s face that morning — the way she hadn’t looked at him even when she spoke. About Helen’s voice cutting through every room like it owned the air. About the way he’d cleaned up the spilled wine without complaint.

“I stayed because I thought it could become something real,” he said finally. “Turns out I was the only one who believed that.”

Mia turned to face him. Her expression didn’t hold pity. It held respect. And something else — a quiet spark of interest that hadn’t been there when she first walked in.

“Her loss,” she said simply.

The words landed deeper than they should have. Ethan felt the corner of his mouth lift, the smallest smile he’d allowed himself in months.

They stood there a little longer, the city moving far below them. Mia didn’t push. She didn’t ask what he wanted to do next. She just waited, patient and present, like she understood that some silences were necessary.

Eventually Ethan spoke.

“I want to see the numbers. Not all of them. Just enough to understand what I’m working with.”

Mia’s smile widened, professional but genuine. “I can have the summaries ready in ten minutes. Or we can go down to the strategy floor and you can meet a few of the division heads. Whichever feels better.”

Ethan looked out at the skyline again. Somewhere out there, Isabella was probably still scrolling on her phone, maybe finally realizing he wasn’t coming back tonight. Helen was probably already on the phone with someone, complaining about the useless son-in-law who had the nerve to leave before she could throw him out.

He turned back to Mia.

“Let’s start with the summaries,” he said. “And Mia?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For not treating me like I’m still the man who walked out of that house this morning.”

She held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. “You’re not that man anymore, Ethan. And anyone who can’t see that… doesn’t deserve your time.”

The words settled into him like warmth after a long cold. He nodded once.

As Mia moved toward the office area to pull up the files, Ethan stayed by the window a moment longer. His phone buzzed in his pocket again. Another call from Isabella. He let it ring.

For the first time in three years, he didn’t feel the need to answer.