The Forsaken Son-in-law

Chapter 5: The Business of Bloodlines

---

The morning after the charity gala dawned bright and cruel.

Billy woke with a dull ache behind his eyes — not from the champagne, but from the memory of the balcony, of Dalia’s lips and the shame that followed.

Shantel was already up, humming softly as she arranged flowers in the vase by their window. The sun spilled across her hair, turning it golden. She looked peaceful — untouched by the chaos that churned in him.

When she turned and smiled, Billy felt something twist in his chest.

“Good morning,” she said.

He managed a nod. “Morning.”

She came close, brushing her fingers across his collar. “You were quiet last night. Did something happen?”

He hesitated, his mind flashing to Dalia’s smirk, her perfume. “Just tired,” he lied. “Long night.”

Shantel nodded slowly. “Well, I made breakfast. You need strength for that meeting with Father.”

Billy’s expression hardened. “Right. The meeting.”

---

By noon, he stood in the grand office of Mr. Raymond Damaris, the patriarch whose name commanded Veradena’s markets. The old man was reviewing documents when Billy entered, his presence filling the room with quiet authority.

“Sit, son,” he said, without looking up. “We have much to discuss.”

Billy obeyed, suppressing the irritation that always followed that word — son. It was affectionate, yes, but also a reminder of who truly held the throne.

“I’ve been looking at our southern contracts,” Mr. Damaris continued. “There’s potential there, but it’s risky. Too unstable.”

Billy leaned forward. “With the right partners, it could be our most profitable venture yet. I’ve already spoken to investors—”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” the old man interrupted, setting the papers aside. “You move too fast, Billy. Business isn’t a race.”

“Respectfully, sir,” Billy said, trying to steady his voice, “this family’s success was built by taking risks. You’ve told me that yourself.”

Mr. Damaris studied him quietly, then sighed. “Ambition is a good servant, Billy. But a cruel master. Don’t let it blind you.”

Billy nodded, though every word scraped against his pride. He wanted to shout that he wasn’t blind — he was just tired of being the shadow behind someone else’s light.

---

That evening, Billy met with Dalia Crest again, this time in a small private lounge in the city center. The air smelled of cedar and expensive cigars. Dalia was already there, lounging with that effortless confidence that both fascinated and frightened him.

“You look troubled,” she said. “Did the old man scold you again?”

He poured himself a drink. “He still treats me like a child.”

She smiled. “Then stop behaving like one. You’re smarter than him. Younger. Sharper. Why wait for his approval when you can build your own empire?”

Billy looked up, intrigued. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I have contacts,” she said simply. “Investors who’d fund a man like you — discreetly. You don’t need to wait for inheritance when you can create your own fortune.”

Billy hesitated. “If the Damaris family finds out—”

“They won’t,” she cut in, stepping closer. “This city rewards bold men, Billy. The ones who stop asking for permission.”

Her words slithered into him like sweet poison.

He could already see it — his own company, his own empire, his name on every billboard in Veradena.

He raised his glass. “Let’s talk details.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and Billy began moving in shadows.

He siphoned small funds from side projects, made secret calls, forged connections under aliases. Dalia handled introductions, her charm smoothing every rough edge.

At home, he became distant. Shantel noticed.

He no longer joined her for dinner, no longer laughed at her jokes or listened when she spoke about family dreams.

One night, she found him in the study, phone pressed to his ear.

“Who was that?” she asked softly when he hung up.

“Work,” he said quickly, avoiding her eyes.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

He looked up sharply. “Because it’s true. Someone has to handle responsibilities around here.”

Her voice trembled slightly. “Billy, I’m not accusing you. I just miss you.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Shantel, please. I’m trying to build something for us.”

She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. The silence that followed cut deeper than words. Finally, she whispered, “Sometimes it feels like you’re building something that doesn’t include me anymore.”

He didn’t answer.

---

At the Damaris company, rumors began to swirl.

Someone was leaking internal strategies to rival firms.

Someone was making quiet moves in the southern markets — the very project Billy had proposed.

Mr. Damaris called a private meeting.

“Someone is using my name without permission,” he said, voice hard as steel. “Billy, you’ve been overseeing these accounts. Do you know anything about it?”

Billy’s pulse raced. “Of course not, sir.”

The old man studied him for a long, tense moment.

“I hope not. Betrayal doesn’t end well in business — or in family.”

The words hit Billy like a warning shot.

He nodded, forcing calm. “Understood.”

---

That night, Dalia called him. “They’re getting suspicious,” she said.

“I’ll handle it,” Billy replied.

She paused. “You sound tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Her tone softened. “You’re not built for half-measures, Billy. Either commit to the game or step aside.”

He closed his eyes, realizing she was right. He’d already crossed the line; there was no turning back now.

---

At home, Shantel waited by the window, watching the rain trace silver lines down the glass.

When Billy entered, soaked and silent, she rose and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re working too hard,” she whispered. “You’ll burn out.”

He stood still, the scent of her skin breaking through his haze of lies. For one fragile second, he almost confessed everything. But then he thought of Dalia, of power, of the man he wanted to become.

He kissed Shantel’s forehead instead. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She smiled weakly, not knowing that everything — everything — was about to fall apart.