The Heir's Revenge

The storm raging didn't wait for Lawrence to knock.

It slammed against the mansion's glass walls like a furious witness, drenched him severely as he stood before the gleaming black doors of the Edwards' estate—his wife's family home. His knuckles stung from pounding so aggressively on the door.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

He wasn't supposed to be there, not like that, trembling with betrayal, furious and humiliated.

Rebecca's parents had used him from the very beginning of the marriage.

And now, they wanted to use him again.

This time he wouldn't stand for it.

When the door finally opened, a maid stood before him, timid, and wearing pity and embarrassment on her face.

"Sir," she said, as if his mere presence was an abomination.

"We weren't expecting you here so early—"

He pushed past her.

"I live here, what the fuck do you mean 'not expecting me'?"

She scurried behind him, hand placed in front of her, trembling in fear.

He saw Rebecca's mother, Stella, sitting next to her husband laughing about something he didn't care about.

Her pearl earrings dangled and glimmered beneath the chandelier as her head bobbed up and down.

When she sighted him, her expression immediately turned calm, practiced, the kind of anger that made your anger feel extremely foolish, childish, and not justified.

"Lawrence," she said, voice smooth and silk. "You look……" she eyed him up and down. "…unwell."

Lawrence moved closer to them, ignoring the puddles his shoes formed.

"YOU'RE TRYING TO USE MY NAME TO TAKE A LOAN?!" He barked. "And what's worse–" he threw the documents to the floor. "Is that you forged my signature! That's a criminal act."

"Oh please." Mrs Edwards waved her hands in the air.

"How did you think this would go through under my nose? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Mr Edwards looked up from the sofa completely unbothered. "Stupid? No. Convenient? Yes."

The whole room fell silent, except for the ticking coming from the grandfather clock. Lawrence's hands balled into fists.

"I've given this family everything! I sold my lands, my shares, my second car, my freaking house—"

"Exactly." Mr Edwards interrupted, swirling his whiskey.

"You're used to sacrifice. So just continue what you started instead of complaining."

Lawrence stared at them dumbfounded. "So….you expect me to sacrifice my future because of a loan you don't even need?!"

"Future?" Stella–Mrs Edwards, chuckled.

"James, he's talking about a future—what future?"

The two couples both laughed hysterically.

"You'll survive," she finally said between laughs. "I mean it's even honorable, a few years behind bars for a family that stuck with you when you had nothing."

The line broke him.

He married their daughter for love, or so he thought. He'd believed in Rebecca when she'd sworn she didn't care if he had nothing, when she claimed she didn't care about money, when she cried while he sold his car and lands, claiming they'd rebuild together. Was that all a lie?

"Rebecca, my wife. Where is she? We're leaving here together?" He asked for his wife.

"Your wife? Leaving here together? And stay where?" Stella mocked.

"She's not going anywhere with a poor good for nothing," James said sternly.

Rebecca finally appeared at the top of the stairs, in a silk robe. The scent of an unfamiliar cologne lingered faintly in the air as she walked by.

He turned to her. "Rebecca," he said, voice trembling.

"Tell them this is madness, tell them we'll leave together right now."

The silence that followed was colder than the rain.

Her eyes didn't meet his. "I'm not leaving, Lawrence."

He froze. "What?"

"I've…..thought about it," she said quietly, wrapping her robe tighter. "And maybe my parents are right. You've become….a burden and need to start pulling your weight."

The word punched him harder than what her mother had just told him.

Stella smiled faintly. "You see? Even my daughter, your wife, agrees. You should even be grateful we kept you around this long."

Lawrence's throat burned. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Grateful? For what? Watching you strip me of every single bloody thing I built?"

He took a step forward, rage and heartbreak flooding through him. "You'll regret this. All of you."

James finally stood now, his tone suddenly ice cold. "No, you'll be the one to regret it. Because by the time you leave this house, your name, your accounts, your reputation — gone."

He looked up slowly, eyes wide. "You wouldn't dare."

"We warned you to be useful. You refused. Complained, and under delivered. Now you're useless."

The rain roared louder, almost swallowing his silence.

Rebecca looked down, face pale but lips pressed tight. No apology. No guilt. Just distance.

Lawrence swallowed hard, his voice raw when he spoke.

"You think you'll get away with this?"

James's smirk darkened. "We've gotten away with everything so far."

Just then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and he saw strings of notifications flashing one after another.

Bank account: balance $0.00.

Every last cent he owned.

They took everything, leaving nothing to his name.

He scoffed, the kind that felt like he just let out a quick sob.

He said nothing after that, absolutely nothing.

Then he turned and walked out into the storm.

Lightning cut across the sky like a promise.

He also made a promise. To do to them exactly what they just did to him.