The Kleptomaniac Son In Law Is Back

The Man On The Bridge

Merrick had been walking for nearly an hour when he reached the bridge, his damp shirt clinging to his back as the evening breeze brushed against his skin.

He hadn't bothered wiping away the champagne until he was several streets away from the Sterling estate. Even then, the humiliation followed him, replaying in his mind every time he remembered Avery's expression as she poured the drink over his head.

That was a mistake.

Her words hurt more than he wanted to admit.

For four years, he'd convinced himself that his sacrifices meant something, that Avery would eventually recognize how much he'd done for her. Instead, she'd built her success on his designs, replaced him with another man, and discarded him as though their marriage had been an inconvenience.

Merrick shoved his hands into his pockets, continuing along the pavement.

He couldn't even afford a place of his own. He was still living with Nadia, relying on his sister's generosity while Avery enjoyed the luxurious life he'd helped her build.

What a joke.

By the time he reached the bridge, his legs ached, and his thoughts had grown darker. He approached the railing and looked down at the water, wondering how much longer he could keep pretending that things would eventually get better.

He had no money, no successful career, and no wife who loved him. Even his talent had become someone else's achievement.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered whether anyone would truly miss him if he disappeared.

Nadia would.

The thought came quickly, but it wasn't enough to silence the despair pressing against his chest. He was tired of being a burden, tired of disappointing the people who believed in him, and tired of fighting for a life that never seemed to improve.

He gripped the railing, staring at the water below.

Then a movement at the far end of the bridge caught his attention.

An elderly man stood beside the railing, his expensive suit hanging loosely from his thin frame. After glancing around, the stranger began climbing over the barrier.

Merrick's eyes widened.

"Hey! What are you doing?" he shouted, rushing toward him.

The man ignored him, shifting his weight toward the other side.

"Sir, stop!" Merrick yelled, breaking into a run.

He reached the stranger just as one of his feet slipped, grabbing the back of his suit and pulling him away from the edge. They stumbled onto the pavement, Merrick landing hard on one knee before scrambling upright.

"Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, gripping the man's arm to steady him. "You could have killed yourself!"

The old man stared at him, his breathing uneven but his expression strangely calm.

"Why did you stop me?" he asked, pulling his arm free.

Merrick blinked. "Because you were about to throw yourself off a bridge!"

"That wasn't what I asked," the stranger replied, lowering himself onto a nearby bench. "Why did you care whether I lived or died?"

Merrick opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Only minutes earlier, he'd been standing at the same railing, wondering whether his own life was worth continuing. Yet the moment he'd seen someone else preparing to jump, he'd moved without hesitation.

"Because nobody deserves to die like that," he answered eventually, sitting at the opposite end of the bench.

The old man let out a bitter laugh. "You say that because you don't know me."

"Then tell me," Merrick replied, glancing at him. "Maybe I'll understand."

The stranger studied his stained shirt and worn shoes before shaking his head.

"You look like you've got enough problems of your own, young man. Why waste your time listening to mine?"

"Perhaps because I know what it feels like to think you've got nothing left," Merrick admitted, looking down at his hands.

That answer appeared to surprise the man.

After a moment, he leaned back against the bench, his gaze drifting toward the river.

"Everyone thinks money makes you happy," he began, rubbing his palms together. "They imagine that once you have enough of it, you'll never feel lonely or disappointed again. But money attracts people who want what you possess, not people who care about who you are."

Merrick remained silent, thinking of Avery.

He remembered the countless nights he'd spent working on designs for her company, believing that helping her succeed was the same as building their future together. He'd never demanded recognition, convinced that their marriage mattered more than his pride.

Now she had everything, while he had been left with nothing.

"I know what you mean," he confessed, forcing a humourless smile. "Sometimes, you give someone everything you have, only to discover that they never valued you in the first place."

The old man turned toward him. "Did someone do that to you?"

"My wife," Merrick answered, his jaw tightening. "We were married for four years, but today I discovered she's getting engaged to another man."

The stranger's eyebrows rose.

"And you still believe people can be trusted?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Merrick considered the question before nodding.

"Not everyone is terrible. My sister, Nadia, has always stood by me, even when I've made mistakes or disappointed her. She might complain about me constantly, but I know she'd come looking if I disappeared."

"You're fortunate," the old man murmured, his expression darkening. "I doubt my family would notice if I disappeared for three days."

Merrick frowned. "I'm sure someone would."

"You don't know them," the stranger replied sharply. "They care about my money, my influence, and everything I can give them. If those things disappeared tomorrow, I doubt any of them would bother remembering I existed."

"That's not necessarily true," Merrick insisted, leaning forward. "You can't decide nobody cares about you without giving them a chance to prove otherwise."

The man shook his head, looking exhausted.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to die soon regardless."

Merrick's expression changed. "What do you mean?"

"I have terminal cancer," the stranger revealed, staring at his hands. "The doctors have told me there's nothing more they can do. I thought that if I disappeared, perhaps someone in my family would finally notice my absence, but I suppose that was wishful thinking."

For a moment, Merrick didn't know what to say.

He had been so consumed by his own suffering that he'd forgotten other people could be fighting battles nobody else could see. The thought of facing death while believing his family wouldn't care was almost unbearable.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly.

The old man lifted his head, managing a faint smile despite his exhaustion.

"Donald Vermillion," he answered.

Merrick froze.

Vermillion?

The name sounded familiar. He had heard it somewhere before, perhaps in the news or during one of the conversations about the country's most powerful companies. Vermillion Global was one of the biggest names in the business world, but he couldn't immediately recall the details.

Before he could place it, Donald suddenly clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain.

"Sir?" Merrick exclaimed, immediately moving closer.

Donald tried to speak, but a violent convulsion seized his body. He slid sideways off the bench, and Merrick caught him before his head struck the pavement.

"Hey! Can you hear me?" Merrick shouted, tapping his cheek, but the old man didn't respond.

For a brief moment, Merrick stared at him, the name Vermillion lingering at the back of his mind.

Then he pushed the thought aside.

Whatever his name meant, it didn't matter right now. The man was dying, and Merrick had to save him.

"Somebody help!" he yelled, looking desperately toward the road.

Spotting an approaching taxi, Merrick rushed toward it, waving both arms until the driver slowed.

"Please, I need you to take us to the nearest hospital!" he pleaded, pointing toward the unconscious man. "He's barely breathing!"

The driver hurried out, and together they carried Donald into the back seat. Merrick climbed in beside him, supporting his head as the taxi sped toward the hospital.

"Stay with me, sir," Merrick whispered, gripping Donald's hand as fear tightened his chest. "Please, just hold on."