The Secret Billionaire Son-in-law

CHAPTER 2: THE RETURN OF THE KING

The pouring rain did nothing to slow down the sudden, massive commotion on the main avenue outside the Golden Leaf Hotel.

The valet drivers and arriving high-society guests stopped in their tracks, completely frozen as the sound of roaring, synchronized engines echoed down the street.

Out of the darkness, a fleet of ten identical, pristine black Rolls-Royce Phantoms turned the corner. They moved with military precision, their polished black paint gleaming under the neon lights of the city. Each car bore a license plate consisting of five identical sevens—a registration sequence that money couldn't buy. It belonged exclusively to the absolute apex of the business world: the Vance Group.

The fleet pulled up to the curb right by the dark alleyway behind the hotel, completely blocking traffic.

The door of the leading vehicle opened, and a dozen tall, burly security details in flawless black suits and wireless earpieces stepped out into the pouring rain. They ignored the water completely, forming two perfect, respectful lines leading directly into the alley where Ethan had just been thrown out.

From the middle car, an elderly man with pristine white hair, dressed in an immaculate, bespoke British three-piece suit, stepped out. It was Butler Thomas, the chief steward of the Vance family and one of the most feared, respected powerbrokers in the country's capital.

Thomas walked quickly into the wet alleyway. The moment his eyes landed on Ethan’s soaked, disheveled figure and his bleeding knuckles, tears welled up in the old man's eyes. He didn't care about the mud or the rain; he walked right up to Ethan and bowed a full ninety degrees.

"Young Master! You have suffered immensely!" Thomas said, his voice thick with emotion.

Behind him, the two dozen elite bodyguards simultaneously dropped to one knee in the wet asphalt, their voices booming in unison through the rain: "Welcome back, Young Master!"

The few passersby and hotel staff who saw this scene from the edge of the alley completely lost their minds. Who on earth was this man in the faded thrift-store suit to deserve a kneeling greeting from the Vance Group’s legendary chief steward?

Ethan looked at Thomas, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face as he helped the old man up. "Stand up, Thomas. It was just a trial. It's over now."

"Yes, Young Master," Thomas said, quickly wiping his eyes and gesturing to an assistant behind him.

The assistant stepped forward, carrying a large, velvet-lined case. When opened, it revealed an exquisite, charcoal-black bespoke suit tailored by the world's finest master craftsmen, made from rare, diamond-infused thread that subtly shimmered in the light. Next to it lay a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch worth four million dollars, and a sleek, translucent black card made of pure obsidian—the Vance Group's Imperial Card, representing unlimited, unsupervised funds.

"We have prepared everything according to your tastes, Young Master," Thomas said respectfully. "The presidential suite downstairs has been cleared for you to change. Also... here is the brief on the current situation in the city."

Ethan stepped into the spacious luxury of the lead Rolls-Royce, peeling off his soaked, ruined clothing. As the car's interior climate control warmed him up, he glanced through the tablet Thomas handed him.

"The Collins family," Ethan murmured, his eyes scanning the financial reports.

"Yes," Thomas replied from the front seat. "The Collins family's logistics company is currently on the brink of bankruptcy due to a massive supply-chain failure last month. They have poured every single cent they have left into hosting this gala tonight, desperately hoping to secure a ten-million-dollar partnership contract with our local branch. It is their only lifeline."

Thomas paused, looking through the rearview mirror with a cold glint in his eyes. "Young Master, according to our reports, the Collins family has treated you with extreme disrespect over the past three years. And just moments ago, they forced you to sign a divorce agreement to pursue... well, to pursue you."

A sharp, mocking chuckle escaped Ethan's lips as he looked down at his freshly bandaged knuckles. He strapped the multi-million dollar watch onto his wrist, the heavy, perfectly balanced mechanism settling against his skin. He smoothed down the lapels of his new, flawless jacket.

The transformation was absolute. The tired, submissive gaze of the live-in son-in-law who accepted every insult was entirely gone. In its place stood the lethal, breathtaking aura of the true heir to the Vance Group—a man who held the financial lifeline of the entire city in his breast pocket.

"So they want to pitch their company to the young, unmarried tycoon of the Vance Group," Ethan said softly, sliding the obsidian Imperial Card into his pocket. "They threw me out into the rain so Chloe could catch my eye."

"Exactly, Young Master," Thomas said, his voice hardening. "The local branch director was scheduled to go up to the penthouse ballroom to review their contract, but I have already halted him. Give the word, and I will ensure Collins Logistics is erased from the market before sunrise."

Ethan looked out the tinted window at the glowing penthouse suite of the Golden Leaf Hotel.

"No need to erase them yet, Thomas. They've spent three years telling me that money and status are everything in this world. It would be a shame if I didn't show them exactly what true status looks like." Ethan checked his watch. It was 12:20 AM. The gala's main contract announcement was scheduled for 12:30 AM. "Turn the cars around. I'll review their contract myself."