The Forsaken Son-in-law

Chapter 6: The Secret Clause

The storm outside roared like a warning from heaven.

Thunder rolled through Veradena’s skyline as lightning flashed across the Damaris estate, illuminating the marble corridors where secrets had slept for generations.

Billy stood by the study window, phone in hand, speaking in a low voice.

“Yes, I got the documents,” he said. “But there’s a problem. The shares aren’t transferring yet.”

On the other end, Dalia’s smooth tone purred through the line.

“Then find out what’s missing, Billy. Every empire has a key — you just have to steal it before someone else does.”

He ended the call and turned, unaware that Mr. Raymond Damaris had been watching from the doorway.

“Still awake?” the old man asked, stepping in.

Billy stiffened. “Couldn’t sleep. I was going through some numbers.”

Mr. Damaris nodded, walking to his desk. “Numbers are important, yes. But not everything valuable in life can be counted.”

Billy forced a smile. “Of course, sir.”

The old man opened a drawer, pulled out a thick, worn leather folder, and placed it on the desk.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Billy frowned. “No.”

“It’s the original clause of the Damaris inheritance,” said Mr. Damaris quietly. “Signed by my grandfather. It’s been in this family for almost a century.”

Billy’s eyes followed the folder like a hawk watching prey.

“I didn’t know there was… a clause.”

“There is,” the old man said. “And you’ll understand why soon.”

He opened the folder, revealing yellowed papers written in bold cursive ink.

Mr. Damaris read aloud:

> ‘No son-in-law or daughter’s husband shall inherit Damaris wealth until he proves his worth through loyalty, not ambition; through sacrifice, not greed. The fortune is a trust, not a trophy.’

Billy froze. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Billy,” said the old man, looking him dead in the eyes, “that you can’t inherit anything simply because you married my daughter. You must earn it — through service to this family and the company. For three years.”

“Three years?” Billy’s voice cracked with disbelief. “You expect me to work like an employee while others—”

“—while others prove they deserve it too,” Mr. Damaris interrupted. “Yes.”

Billy clenched his jaw. “That’s unfair.”

“No,” the old man said calmly. “That’s family.”

He closed the folder with finality and turned away.

Billy’s hands trembled with fury.

All the dinners, the respect, the power — he had believed they were already his.

Now, they dangled like a carrot before a starving man.

---

Later that night, Billy sat in the car outside Dalia’s penthouse. Rain slid down the windshield in thin, glowing threads.

He didn’t want to see her — but he needed her.

When he entered, she was reclining on a velvet couch, a glass of red wine in hand.

“Bad news?” she asked, reading his expression instantly.

“They tricked me,” he muttered. “There’s a clause. I can’t inherit a thing unless I ‘prove my loyalty’ for three years.”

Dalia chuckled softly. “So, the mighty Damaris bloodline still guards its treasure.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Billy snapped.

She set down her glass and walked toward him, heels clicking like slow heartbeats.

“Then stop playing by their rules, Billy. Loyalty doesn’t pay bills. Power does.”

“I’ve already done enough,” he said. “If they find out what I’ve been—”

“They won’t,” she interrupted. “Not if you finish what you started. You said you wanted freedom, didn’t you? The chance to build your own throne?”

He hesitated, staring into her dark, persuasive eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Then forget the inheritance,” she said. “Take the contacts, the investments, the accounts I set up. You don’t need the Damaris name to make millions.”

Billy stared at her. The idea sounded intoxicating — but also dangerous.

He imagined walking away from it all: Shantel, her father, the name that had caged him.

Freedom whispered to him like a forbidden lover.

But deep down, a shadow of guilt stirred.

Shantel’s voice echoed in his mind — “Sometimes it feels like you’re building something that doesn’t include me anymore.”

He shook the thought away.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

---

The next morning, Billy returned home early. Shantel was at the dining table, helping her younger brother with his college forms.

Her smile lit up the room when she saw Billy. “You’re home early! Did the meeting go well?”

Billy hesitated, then nodded. “It was fine.”

She rose and walked to him, eyes full of warmth. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I’m proud of you.”

Her kindness cut through him like a blade.

He wanted to tell her everything — about Dalia, the lies, the stolen money — but his pride chained his tongue.

He simply said, “Thank you,” and kissed her forehead before leaving the room.

Shantel watched him go, her heart heavy with a feeling she couldn’t name. Something in his eyes no longer belonged to her.

---

At the office, Billy’s name was spreading quietly through corridors. Some admired his confidence. Others whispered of missing funds, suspicious partnerships, and secret phone calls.

Mr. Damaris’s assistant — an older woman named Mrs. Cole — had begun keeping a close eye on him.

She noticed small inconsistencies: project files accessed at odd hours, confidential memos disappearing.

By the week’s end, she reported to her boss.

“Sir,” she said softly, “I think Billy is hiding something.”

Mr. Damaris looked up slowly. “Hiding… or stealing?”

Mrs. Cole hesitated. “Perhaps both.”

The old man leaned back, face grave. “Thank you, Mrs. Cole. Leave this matter to me.”

---

That night, Billy received a message from an unknown number:

> “Meet me at Pier 47. Midnight. It’s about Dalia.”

His heart pounded.

He went alone, raincoat pulled tight, the wind slicing off the Veradena docks.

A tall man stepped out from the shadows — one of the investors Dalia had introduced him to.

“You’re Billy?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“She told me you’d come. But she didn’t tell me you’d been caught.”

Billy froze. “Caught? What do you mean?”

The man smirked. “Your father-in-law’s people have been asking questions. They traced a few wire transfers — from his accounts to yours. You’re done, kid.”

Billy’s stomach dropped. “No… that’s impossible.”

The man shrugged. “It’s not my problem. But if you want to stay out of prison, you might want to disappear before morning.”

---

Billy drove home in a daze. The city lights blurred through the rain as his world began to crumble.

He parked outside the mansion, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Inside, he found Shantel waiting by the staircase, wrapped in her robe, worry etched across her face.

“Billy,” she said softly, “where have you been?”

He couldn’t speak. His throat burned with guilt, fear, and rage.

She stepped closer. “You’re shaking… what happened?”

Billy looked into her eyes — those same eyes that had once believed in him — and whispered, “Everything I worked for… it’s falling apart.”

Shantel reached for him, but he stepped back.

He couldn’t bear her touch. Not when his sins were closing in.

Outside, thunder cracked again — as if the heavens themselves had sealed his fate.