The Heir They Humiliated

“Carter, sign it! You have no fucking choice now!” My mother-in-law, Beatrice, barked as she slammed a sheet of paper onto my desk with enough force to make my coffee rattle.

My face went completely ashen. Looking at that document, my heart didn't just beat; it hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal. My eyes darted toward the creaking door of my tiny office. This space was barely a cubicle on the ground floor of the massive corporate headquarters, and the scene Beatrice and her son were making was already drawing a crowd.

“Please, not here!” I hissed, my voice a fierce, desperate whisper. Neither of them budged. “Come on, Beatrice, don’t do this at my job.”

She snarled at me, her lip curling in pure scorn. “You thought we’d just let it go? We’ve played this cat-and-mouse game for too long. Now sign the fucking divorce agreement and free my daughter from this abominable union this instant!”

I knew right then that my already shaky reputation was about to be obliterated. In a company where I was already regarded as a nobody—a bottom-tier designer who would never amount to anything—this would make me a permanent laughingstock.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. I honestly wished the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. “Listen, let’s talk like mature people. Please.”

I struggled to keep my voice steady as I started to stand up, but a heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder. It didn't just hold me; it slammed me back down into my chair with violent force.

“Sit the fuck down, chump,” Jax, my brother-in-law, sneered. He pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket and flicked it at my chest. “There you go. Don’t waste our time.”

I shook my head, my jaw tightening as I caught the sneaky stares of my colleagues through the glass. My blood began to boil.

“What is this? What is wrong with you both?” I asked in a frantic whisper. “Jax, close the bloody door. Let’s talk in private.”

Jax gave me a nasty, jagged grin. “In private?”

The door was already ajar, but Jax walked over to it and, with a sudden, explosive kick, sent it flying open. It slammed against the wall, nearly tearing off its loose hinges.

“We’ve been talking in private for days at home, you bastard, but you hasn't listened!” Jax bellowed, his voice echoing through the entire department. “Now you want privacy? No! Let everyone see exactly how brazen you are!”

Jax was built like a rugby player—thick, muscular, and intimidating with his cropped blonde hair. He loomed over my desk. “Pick up the pen.”

The humiliation was so thick I could taste it. I shut my eyes tight, refusing to meet the gaze of the coworkers peering into my cramped office. I picked up the paper, and as I read the bold headers, a wave of cold shock sizzled through my marrow.

This again. At my workplace. How desperate were these people to get rid of me? My eyes were red and stinging; the ruckus had already attracted half the damn company.

“Why are you acting so surprised?” Beatrice asked with a sneer. “Did you think we were joking? The divorce papers tag along wherever we go.”

I shook my head slowly, staring at them in disbelief. “Let’s just go outside and talk. You’re embarrassing me.”

Beatrice looked at her son, and they both erupted into mocking laughter. “How could we embarrass you when you’re already an embarrassment? It beats me how this company keeps a parasite like you. Because that’s what you are, Carter. A fucking parasite!”

Her voice carried perfectly across the floor. I felt my status sinking through the floorboards.

“Jeez, Carter is getting chewed out by his in-laws,” I heard someone whisper nearby. “What do you think it’s about?”

“Who cares?” came the indifferent reply. “He’s good-for-nothing anyway. You have to wonder how they’ve put up with him this long.”

The gossip was spreading like wildfire, though luckily, it hadn't reached Julian yet.

“You’re wasting your time,” I said, my face turning pale and grim. The shame was a physical weight, but I forced myself to look them in the eye. “I’m not signing it. I didn't sign it at the house, and I’m not signing it here.”

Jax slammed his fist onto my desk, vibrating the wood. He looked ready to deck me, but Beatrice held him back.

“Stop, Jax. He isn't worth the effort,” she said, her eyes fixed on me. She turned her venom back in my direction. “You won’t let go because she’s rich now, isn't it? You’re feeding off her like a leech. I’m sure your meager salary here couldn't even afford one of her earrings. You’re the lowest-paid staff in this building. Do you see how worthless you are?”

“That’s not what matters,” I said, my voice thick with rising anger.

My colleagues weren't even hiding their interest anymore. Their chattering was like the hum of a hundred bees, fueling the fire in my gut. God, I wanted to sink my fist into Jax’s smug face.

“Then what matters?” Beatrice asked. She was in her late fifties but had the sharp, aggressive energy of a woman half her age. She poked a hard finger into my chest. “Tell me, Mr. Lover Boy. What matters? Don’t tell me you actually believe in love at your age?”

My bloodshot eyes met hers. For a split second, a flash of pure, predatory instinct flickered in my gaze, startling her.

“Tell me why a full-grown idiot believes in love?” she asked, recovering quickly and banking on the fact that I wouldn't dare lay a hand on her. “You’re so stupid you think a lowly designer at the bottom of the food chain can be in love with my daughter? A woman who attracts men of actual importance? You’re kidding yourself.”

“Maybe I don't earn what she does,” I said, trying to find my confidence. “But there is still love between us.”

Jax let out a sharp, mocking snicker.

“Either you’re stupid, Jax, or he is!” Beatrice snapped.

“The bottom line is I’m not signing anything until my wife shows up,” I said firmly. The eye contact from my colleagues was stinging now, but I didn't look away. “We’ll handle this ourselves, like we always have.”

“Really? You want to hear it from her mouth that she doesn't love you?” Beatrice’s voice dropped into a threatening register that made a seed of doubt sprout in my chest.

“I’m not penning down a thing,” I snapped. “It’s funny how you can’t get Elara because she’s on a ‘business trip.’ I’ll talk to my wife when she’s back.”

Jax scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m sure a business trip is supposed to go further than your boss’s house.”

I squinted at him, my face contorting as the words hit me. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. My voice started calm, but as the implication sank in, my vision went blurry with rage. “What the fuck do you mean by that, Jax?”

“You fucking loser,” Jax said, turning to lead his mother out of my cramped office. “You’ll find out soon enough. Smells like horse shit in here. What an asshole.”

I rushed to the door and slammed it shut, finally cutting off the mocking stares of the office. I stayed in that room for the rest of the day, my heart pounding and my mind jumping with every footstep in the hall.

I thought the day couldn't get any worse. I was wrong.

Hours later, as I was finally packing up to leave, my door flung open again. I snapped.

“Do you want to break the fucking door?” I yelled, not even looking up. “For fuck’s sake—”

The words died in my throat. Elara, my wife, stood there with a cold, impassive look on her face. But it was the man who walked in behind her that made my stomach turn.

It was Julian. My boss.