The Live‑In Son‑In‑Law Who Ruled The World

Chapter 5 — The Replacement

The night wind outside the hotel cut across his face like a knife. Alexander limped out the door. When the hem of his trousers brushed against his ankle, the pain made his brow twitch violently.

He had rushed too fast to block that stainless steel stand earlier, twisting his foot badly in the process. Now it was hard even to stand steady. The palm of his hand was also slashed by the sharp edge of the stand, blood slowly seeping through his fingers, sticky on his skin, cold and stiff.

He looked down at it, and suddenly thought back to his college days.

Back then, he had only scratched the back of his hand while cutting fruit; barely any blood came out. But Aurelia had panicked terribly, dragging him two blocks to find a pharmacy, insisting on buying the most expensive band‑aids, and she had stared him down with a stern face:“No water for three days, you hear? Otherwise it’ll get infected, what then?”

Back then, she had held his hand, her eyes red, as if she were the one who had been hurt, not him.

But now?

He had protected her, his palm cut, his ankle sprained. Standing right in front of her, she hadn’t even glanced at him. Nahir Virel had only bumped his ankle, yet she half‑crouched to help him, her voice soft as water.

Alexander twitched the corners of his mouth, but his smile was colder than the night.

Thank goodness the stand was stainless steel.

Otherwise, he might have had to worry about tetanus.

He limped down the steps, his figure stretched long by the lights at the entrance, falling alone on the ground like an abandoned shadow.

On the way back, Alexander took a cab. The neon lights outside the window receded continuously. Alexander leaned back in the back seat, saying nothing.

The scene from the hotel kept pricking into his mind like needles.

Aurelia stood beside Nahir Virel, smiling as she prepared to drink the cross‑arm toast with him. All around, people cheered, everyone treating them like a perfect couple. She had not explained, not denied, not even looked back at him.

Alexander closed his eyes. His Adam’s apple moved slowly.

He did not understand.

Why had the girl who once clung to his arm and playfully begged, who ran to bring him an umbrella on rainy days, who called him repeatedly in a panic when he was slow to reply to messages—why had she become what she was today?

Was it because he was useless?

In other people’s eyes, he was just a live‑in son‑in‑law in Aurelia’s family, a househusband who had stepped back from the spotlight and lived off his wife. No title, no status, no edge. Had she long felt the same way?

The moment this thought emerged, it was like ice water being poured down his spine.

Alexander opened his eyes. The look in them was dead quiet.

When the cab stopped at the villa’s entrance, he sat for a few seconds before pushing the door open and getting out. The moment his foot touched the ground, the pain shot all the way up from his ankle. He steadied himself against the car door and slowly walked inside.

The house was big and quiet.

So quiet that even his own footsteps seemed superfluous.

The warm light in the dining room was still on. The table was fully set with dishes, all long cold.

Alexander draped his jacket over the back of a chair, walked over silently, picked up a lighter, and lit the candle on the cake.

The small flame flickered gently, casting half his face in shifting light and shadow.

Just a few hours ago, he had been busy in the kitchen, sweating, practicing his icing over and over, terrified that the final product would not look good enough. To make this cake, he had destroyed two electric egg beaters and nearly wrecked the temperature control of an oven. Jake had laughed at him on the phone, saying that the heir of the Kairo family, of all people, was hiding in the kitchen learning to bake for an anniversary.

Back then, Alexander had just smiled, thinking it was worth it.

He looked at the candle and spoke softly:“Happy third anniversary.”

As his voice fell, the dining room became even quieter.

He paused for a few seconds, and added silently in his heart:

May Alexander and Aurelia be together forever.

Even as he made that wish, he found it laughable himself.

Yet he still lowered his head and blew out the candle.

The darkness lasted only a moment. The overhead light pressed down again, leaving the loneliness on the table nowhere to hide.

Alexander pulled out a chair, sat down alone, picked up his knife and fork, and slowly ate the anniversary dinner that should have been shared by two.

The dishes were cold. The meat was tough.

He chewed mechanically, his throat feeling blocked, every swallow bitter.

When he finished, only the carefully prepared little cake remained on the table.

The edge of the cream had slightly collapsed. On it was scrawled a crooked line:

Happy anniversary, Aurelia.

Beside it was a drawing of two cartoon faces, one big and one small, ugly in a funny way.

He had practiced many times before managing that much.

Alexander sat at the table, staring at the cake for a long time, his eyes devoid of any light.

To learn that, he had broken quite a few kitchen appliances and burned his hand several times. But back then, he truly thought it was all worth it.

It had once been worth it.

He lowered his eyes, his fingertip lightly brushing the edge of the cake box, the movement very slow.

What did marriage really mean? Was it truly a grave?

Could it turn someone who once had eyes only for him into this unfamiliar, cold person, someone who found even his presence an eyesore?

Alexander leaned back against the chair. His chest ached heavily.

The pain was not tearing and wrenching, but crept bit by bit into his bones, making even breathing feel heavy.

On the other side of the dining table lay the gifts he had prepared.

A black leather document, a black card, a velvet jewelry box.

Inside the document was the cooperation contract Aurelia had dreamed of—the exclusive agency agreement for Harbor International. No time limit, no restrictive clauses. As long as she signed it, the overseas market would be wide open.

That was supposed to be his surprise for her.

As for the jewelry box, inside it was a pink diamond.

He had personally bid on it at an auction not long ago. Worth a hundred billion dollars, one of a kind.

Under the light, the velvet surface shimmered softly. But the gifts lay quietly on the table, unopened, untouched.

Like a grand declaration of love with no one to receive it.

Finally, Alexander sat down on the sofa, his injured foot resting on the edge of the coffee table. The blood on his palm had congealed into a dark red crust. He did not tend to it, could not even be bothered to get the medicine.

The only sound in the living room was the wall clock ticking.

He waited for the door to open. Evening turned to late night, then to early morning. Fatigue crept onto his face, but he didn't move. He just sat there.

Sometime before three in the morning, footsteps finally came from outside. Then the fingerprint lock beeped.

Aurelia pushed the door open and came in. She smelled strongly of alcohol. Her thin high heels clicked sharply on the floor. She hummed a tuneless little song, a lingering smile still on her face, her brows and eyes carrying the light, happy looseness of someone who had been drinking.

The main light in the living room was off. Only the wall lamp cast a dim yellow glow.

She had just tossed her bag onto the shoe cabinet when she reached up and turned on the light. The moment she did, she froze.

On the sofa, Alexander was sitting there.

His back leaned against the sofa, one hand resting on the armrest, his eyes fixed straight on her. He was frighteningly quiet.

Aurelia frowned, striking first:“Why aren’t you asleep? Didn’t I tell you I’d be back late?”

Alexander stared at her, his voice heavy:“I’m waiting for you to give me an explanation.”

Aurelia paused for a moment in taking off her shoes.“What explanation?”

“Why did you drink a cross‑arm toast with Nahir Virel?”

As the words fell, the tipsy, relaxed feeling in the air vanished instantly.

Aurelia reached up to push back her hair, her tone clearly perfunctory:“He just got back from abroad. On an occasion like tonight, having a drink is just socializing.”

Alexander’s gaze did not waver, but his voice grew colder:“Then why didn’t you clarify that you’re not a couple?”

Aurelia grew impatient at the questioning. She walked over in her high heels, bent down, and gave him a hug, her tone like that of someone coaxing a sulking child:“Didn’t I already say I’m married? With so many people in that banquet hall, it’s pointless to fuss over such things.”

She hugged him casually, still carrying the lingering scent of another man’s drinking party on her.

Alexander sat still, his shoulders as stiff as stone.

Aurelia was about to let go when her eyes shifted and suddenly caught sight of the cake and the dried wax tears on the dining table.

The expression on her face froze.

Happy anniversary, Aurelia.

Those words met her eyes. She was stunned for two seconds, then seemed to suddenly remember—today was their third anniversary.

She had been thinking only of Nahir Virel’s return all day, only of the evening reception, only of how to support him and help him carry the event. She had forgotten this day completely.

And Alexander had sat here, waiting for her the whole night.

Her gaze swept over the dishes on the table, then back to the man on the sofa. Alexander’s face was pale, his ankle obviously a little swollen, the edge of his palm still bearing unwashed bloodstains.

Aurelia’s movements hesitated. Her lips pressed together lightly.

It was true that he was always willing to do anything for her. Side jobs, cooking, preparing surprises—he saved everywhere he could, yet never held back when it came to giving to her. She had even scolded him when she came in. Now, looking at all these things, it seemed a bit excessive.

But the hesitation lasted only a moment.

She walked to the dining table and sat down. Her attention quickly shifted to the two gifts, a renewed spark of interest lighting up her eyes.

“You even prepared gifts?”

She reached out and picked up the black leather document. Her fingertip rubbed the cover. The black leather felt premium, heavy in her hand.

“You’ve really made an effort.”

Aurelia smiled, a hint of surprise in her voice. She hadn’t prepared any return gift tonight, yet Alexander had done everything as usual. This feeling of being cared for, being treasured—it was something she had always enjoyed.

She didn’t touch the jewelry box first. Instead, she opened the document.

As she pulled the papers out, she was still a little casual. But the moment she saw the header on the first page, the smile on her face froze.

Harbor International.

Aurelia’s breath caught. Most of her tipsiness dissipated. She sat up straight immediately and flipped through the pages.

The more she read, the faster her expression changed. No time limit. No restrictive clauses.

This was not an ordinary contract. It was a pass that any business would dream of obtaining. Even if Aurelia’s brand was still just an upstart, even a leading brand might not be able to secure such terms from Harbor International.

Her fingers tightened, leaving creases on the paper.

A few seconds later, she looked up sharply at Alexander on the sofa, her voice rising:“Do you know what this contract means?”

Alexander leaned back, his expression unchanged, just looking at her.

Aurelia stood up, walked a few steps to him, and spread the contract with a loud rustle:“A contract with absolutely no restrictions—how did you get this? Harbor International would never offer such terms to anyone!”

Her eyes were fixed on him, full of shock and scrutiny.

“Even Nah Virel couldn’t get a contract like this.”

Alexander’s Adam’s apple moved. He did not answer immediately.

Aurelia stepped closer, her voice more urgent, more piercing:“Are you sure this contract is real?”