The Kleptomaniac Son In Law Is Back

“Back again, Merrick?”

Merrick looked up from the bench in the precinct holding area, a shiny whistle rolling between his fingers. Officer Harris watched him from behind the desk, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief.

“You know, most people try to avoid this place after their first arrest,” Harris remarked, folding his arms. “You're on your fourth visit this month. Don't you ever learn?”

Merrick slipped the whistle into his coat pocket, pretending not to notice the officer's stare. “I'm working on it.”

“Clearly.” Harris shook his head. “What was it this time?”

“Three paperclips,” another officer answered from his terminal, barely concealing his laughter.

Harris sighed. “Three paperclips from the newspaper office where you work, Merrick. Your boss actually called the police over three cents' worth of stationery.”

“They were good paperclips,” Merrick muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Harris stared at him for a moment before shaking his head again. “I don't know whether to laugh or recommend you see someone.”

Merrick offered a weak smile, keeping the rest of his explanation to himself. 

His fingers sometimes seemed to act before his mind caught up with them, drawn to small, shiny objects he had no real reason to take. He knew how ridiculous it sounded, but explaining it rarely helped. People either laughed at him or looked at him as though something was seriously wrong with his head.

He had learned to keep quiet.

The precinct doors swung open, and Merrick immediately recognized the familiar footsteps approaching the counter.

Nadia.

His older sister still wore her café apron beneath her coat, and the tight expression on her face suggested she had abandoned a busy morning to deal with yet another one of his messes.

“Merrick,” she said, closing her eyes briefly as though asking the heavens for patience.

He straightened on the bench. “Good morning to you, too.”

Nadia didn't answer. She paid his bail, signed the release papers, and grabbed his arm the moment the officer handed them over.

By the time they reached the parking lot, she had run out of patience.

“Three paperclips!” she exclaimed, turning to face him. “Do you have any idea how many customers I left waiting at the café because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself?”

Merrick glanced towards her car, hoping the conversation might end there. “They were high-quality paperclips.”

Nadia gave him a murderous look.

“Fine. I'll stop.”

“You'd better.” She pressed her fingers against her forehead, her voice dropping into an exhausted mutter. “Stop stealing, stop getting arrested, and stop giving people more reasons to look down on you. And while you're at it, stop living in that miserable Sterling mansion.”

Merrick's expression changed.

“I'm going home today, Nadia.”

She stared at him. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“It's my fourth wedding anniversary with Avery.”

For a brief moment, Nadia looked almost sympathetic. Then her expression hardened.

“Four years of marriage, and her family still treats you like a servant. They call you a thief, a freeloader, and a disgrace, yet you keep running back to them as if they'll suddenly decide you're worthy of their precious family.”

“I have ears, Nadia. I know what they say.”

“And Avery lets them say it!” Nadia shot back, throwing her hands up. “She stands there while her relatives humiliate her own husband, and you still defend her.”

Merrick looked away, his jaw tightening.

Four years ago, Avery had defied her wealthy family to marry him. She had given up her allowance, stood against their objections, and chosen him when he had little more than his talent and determination to offer her. 

No matter how much their relationship had changed since then, Merrick couldn't forget what she had sacrificed for him.

He wanted to believe that the woman who had once fought for their marriage was still somewhere beneath the coldness he faced now.

“You could have married someone who actually appreciated you,” Nadia said, unlocking her car. “But Avery needed a designer, and somehow you convinced yourself that being her husband was enough.”

Merrick turned towards her sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't pretend you don't know.” Nadia's eyes narrowed. “You were the best fashion designer in the city, and Avery knew it. She took your sketches, put her name on them, and let the entire industry praise her as a genius. Her company is ranked second in the country because of your work, yet everyone thinks you're a useless husband who contributes nothing.”

“Lower your voice,” Merrick warned, glancing at the people walking past them.

“Why? Afraid someone might discover the truth?”

“Nobody knows, and I'd like to keep it that way.”

Nadia looked at him as though he had lost his mind. “You're actually protecting her?”

“I'm not asking for recognition,” he replied, his voice firm despite the discomfort tightening his chest. “I never have.”

That wasn't entirely true, but it was the answer he had given himself for years.

Merrick had spent countless nights hunched over his drafting table, sketching designs until his fingers cramped and his knuckles ached. 

He had created the concepts that helped Avery establish her fashion company, watching from the sidelines while she accepted the praise and opportunities that should have been shared between them.

He had told himself it was enough to see her succeed.

Besides, the fashion industry had a far more mysterious obsession. 

At the top of the national rankings stood Vermillion Global, an untouchable company whose owners never appeared in public and whose designs dominated the market. Nobody seemed to know who controlled the empire, and nobody had managed to surpass it.

Avery wanted to claim that number-one position.

Merrick had spent years helping her chase it, content to remain hidden behind her success.

Nadia shook her head, disappointment replacing her anger.

“If they humiliate you again today, don't stand there pretending it doesn't hurt,” she warned, opening her car door.

“It doesn't,” Merrick lied, forcing a smile. “Now go open your shop before your customers start blaming me for ruining their breakfast, too.”

She didn't laugh.

“Happy anniversary, Merrick,” she said quietly, climbing into the driver's seat. “I hope she gives you a reason to keep believing in her.”

He watched her drive away, the smile slowly slipping from his face.

Then he turned towards the bus stop.

He had a wife to see.

And, despite everything Nadia had said, he still hoped their anniversary would remind Avery of the man she had chosen four years ago.