The Return Of The Lame Son In Law.

Chapter One. The living in son in law

Stephany strode into the house, her laughter mingling with the voices of her friends, filling the room with lively energy.

Her high heels clicked against the polished wooden floor as she led the way, a few shopping bags swinging from her arms.

Her friends, chattering animatedly, followed her into the living room.

"Chris, we're back!" Stephany called out, her tone cheerful but commanding.

Her eyes swept across the room, quickly zeroing in on the mop and bucket still standing in the corner, a small puddle of water beside them.

The floor, far from the gleaming surface it was meant to be, bore streaks and patches of dirt.

Chris, who had been in the kitchen making tea, emerged at the sound of her voice.

He froze for a moment, the teapot in his hands, as he caught sight of Stephany's disapproving gaze.

He knew what was coming.

Chris, the son in law of the of the illustrious Preston family, had once been a promising figure in the business world.

As the first grand son of the Brown’s he was naturally made the manager of the Brown Conglomerate limited and lived an extravagant life.

However, two years ago, his world had crumbled when he was framed for embezzling twenty million dollars from the Browns' company.

Despite his desperate attempts to explain that he had used the money to invest in a promising project, the Browns refused to believe him.

The accusations of theft for personal gain flew thick and fast, orchestrated by his aunt, Georgina who had long harbored ill will towards him for being in that position.

The scandal led to his denouncement and separation from the company and subsequently, the family.

Since then, Chris had been living with the Prestons as a live-in son-in-law.

His tarnished reputation and a limping leg from an old injury prevented him from finding work.

As a result, his days were filled with household chores, a far cry from his former life.

"Chris," Stephany began, her voice cutting through the chatter, "didn't I ask you to finish mopping the floor before I got back?"

Chris set the teapot down gently, his eyes lowering to the floor. "Yes, you did. I was just about to—"

"Just about to?" Stephany interrupted, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.

"You know how important it is to keep this place clean, especially when we have guests coming over."

Her friends exchanged awkward glances but said nothing, clearly used to witnessing these exchanges.

Stephany's role in the household was clear; she managed everything, and Chris, given his circumstances, was expected to contribute by taking on various chores.

Chris clenched his jaw, the familiar frustration bubbling up inside him, but he forced it down.

He had learned long ago that complaining or making excuses would only make things worse and had learn to accept his fate.

This was his responsibility now, a way to show his appreciation and earn his keep.

"You’re right honey," he said quietly, moving towards the mop. "I'll finish it right now."

"You'd better," she replied, her tone softening just a fraction as she turned back to her friends.

"It's just so frustrating when things aren't done properly."

Chris's ears burned with embarrassment, but he kept his focus on the task at hand.

He dunked the mop into the bucket, wringing it out with quick, practiced motions. The living room buzzed with conversation again as Stephany and her friends settled onto the couch, their shopping bags rustling as they began to unpack their latest finds.

As he worked, Chris could hear snippets of their discussion—new dresses, a restaurant they planned to visit, a funny story from work.

It was a world he was part of, yet somehow always on the periphery. He finished mopping the floor, making sure every inch was spotless this time, then quietly put the cleaning supplies away.

When he returned to the kitchen, Stephany's voice called out again, this time more gently. "Chris, could you bring us some tea, please?"

"Of course," he replied, busying himself with the cups and saucers. As he carried the tray into the living room, he couldn't help but steal a glance at Stephany.

Her stern expression had softened into a smile as she chatted with her friends, the earlier tension seemingly forgotten.

Chris placed the tray on the coffee table and began pouring the tea, careful not to spill a drop. Stephany looked up at him, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment.

"Thank you," she said, and though her voice was still firm, there was a hint of appreciation there.

Chris nodded, offering a small smile in return. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind him why he stayed, why he continued to shoulder these responsibilities.

This was his place, his role, and despite the challenges, he was determined to fulfill it because he loved his wife.