The Son-in-Law Apocalypse Revenge

006

Tristan's smirk stayed in place as he raised his glass.

Desmond looked at the whiskey in his hand.

He knew how this ended before.

Back then, he had been dizzy, confused, and desperate to keep the peace. He had taken the drink and tried to talk things out like a fool. Ten minutes later, he could barely sit straight. Fifteen minutes later, Bryce had him pinned against the booth while Evan shoved papers under his hand. Tristan had laughed and called it a family lesson.

This time, Desmond did not lift the glass.

He set it back on the table.

Tristan's smile faded a little. "What are you doing?"

"Not making your job easier," Desmond said.

Nolan leaned back with interest. Bryce's eyes narrowed. Evan's fingers stopped over the folder.

Tristan let out a dry laugh. "You think too highly of yourself. It is just a drink."

"Then you should have no problem drinking mine," Desmond replied.

The sentence landed like a slap.

Bryce looked at Tristan. Evan looked at the glass. Even Nolan's amusement sharpened.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then Tristan leaned back and let the fake warmth drop from his face.

"Fine," he said. "Since you want honesty, let's be honest. I did not bring you here for drinks. I brought you here because you clearly forgot your place."

Desmond folded his hands loosely on the table. "There it is. That sounds more like you."

Tristan's jaw tightened. "Do not test me tonight."

"Why not? You invited me."

Bryce laughed under his breath.

Tristan ignored it and pointed at the folder. "Open it."

Desmond did not move.

"Open it," Tristan repeated, slower this time. "Inside is a simple agreement. You transfer the bulk of your funds into a family supervised account. My father will take over management. The money stays protected. You stop making stupid decisions. Everybody moves on."

"Family supervised?" Desmond said. "You mean Hawthorne controlled."

"Call it what you want," Tristan snapped. "That money does not belong in your hands. You got lucky once and started acting like a king. It is embarrassing."

Desmond looked him in the eye. "No. What is embarrassing is four grown men setting up a drugged drink because they are too insecure to talk straight."

Bryce's expression changed. Nolan gave a low whistle. Evan's face froze before he hid it.

Tristan stared hard at Desmond. "Careful."

"You keep saying that," Desmond said. "I am still waiting for the part where you become worth it."

Nolan coughed out a laugh and covered it with his glass.

Tristan slammed a palm on the table. "Enough. Sign the papers. Transfer the money. We can still do this the easy way."

Desmond glanced at the folder again. "And if I do not?"

Evan answered this time, his voice smooth and oily. "Then things become unpleasant. There are many ways to make a man cooperate. Public scandals. Legal trouble. Physical pressure. Once a situation turns messy, even honest money can become hard to hold."

"Look at that," Desmond said. "A rich parasite making full threats. I am proud of you."

Evan's smile vanished.

Bryce leaned both elbows on the table. "You think this is a joke?"

"No," Desmond said. "I think you are a joke. This whole setup is one. Four idiots in a private booth trying to steal from one man and call it order."

Bryce pushed up from his seat.

His shadow stretched across the table as he cracked his neck and looked down at Desmond with open contempt. "I have been patient because Tristan asked me to be. Do not make me regret it."

Desmond looked up at him like he was looking at a waiter who had interrupted dinner. "Sit down. You are blocking the light."

Bryce's face darkened.

"You little—"

Tristan lifted a hand, but his own temper was already slipping. "No. Let him hear this clearly. Desmond, the money is leaving your account tonight. One way or another. You are not smart enough to keep it. You are not connected enough to protect it. And you are definitely not strong enough to fight what happens next if you refuse."

Desmond's eyes turned colder.

There it was.

The same arrogance.

The same rotten certainty.

In his previous life, that was the point where fear had taken over. He remembered trying to bargain. He remembered asking Tristan to at least leave him enough to survive. Tristan had laughed and said survival was earned by useful people.

Now the memory only made Desmond calmer.

"You really should have come with your father," he said. "At least Victor knows how to disguise greed behind business talk. You are just a spoiled thug with a family name."

Nolan laughed this time.

Bryce looked ready to flip the table. Evan had gone stiff with irritation. Tristan's face turned red.

"Do you know who you are talking to?" Tristan said.

"Yes," Desmond said. "A man who mistakes inheritance for ability."

Tristan snatched the folder, yanked out the top sheet, and shoved it across the table. "Sign it now."

Desmond did not even glance down.

"No."

The single word dropped into the booth and stayed there.

Tristan blinked once, as if he had misheard.

"What did you say?"

"I said no." Desmond's voice stayed even. "You can drug the glass. You can bring muscle. You can wave fake contracts in my face. The answer is still no."

Bryce moved around the table.

Evan closed the folder and set it aside, no longer pretending this was business.

Nolan looked from one face to another, suddenly interested in how far this would go.

Tristan stood slowly. "I gave you a chance to act smart. That was generosity. Do not mistake it for weakness."

Desmond rose as well.

He did it without hurry, fear, or even looking at Bryce, who was now close enough to grab him.

That alone made something twist in Tristan's chest.

This was wrong.

Desmond was supposed to panic by now. He was supposed to plead, stall, or shake.

Instead, he looked like a man waiting for children to finish a tantrum.

Tristan took a step closer. "Do you really think you walk out of here untouched after insulting us like this?"

Desmond met his stare. "Do you really think I walked in here without knowing what kind of trash was waiting at the table?"

Bryce reached out.

Before his hand could touch Desmond's shoulder, the sound of heels cut through the 

All four men turned.

A woman had just entered the upper floor lounge.

She was stunning enough to pull the air out of the room the moment she appeared. Her fair skin stood out under the dim light against the dark walls of the bar. She wore a fitted white dress under a pale coat, and every step she took was calm and expensive.

For one second, the entire booth changed.

Bryce straightened.

Nolan fixed his jacket.

Evan smoothed his tie.

Even Tristan's face shifted as pride pushed past his anger.

All four of them thought the same thing.

She had to be here for one of them.

Nolan smiled first. "Now this is better."

Bryce rolled his shoulders and lifted his chin.

Evan's expression returned to its polished form.

Tristan adjusted his cuff and gave Desmond a mocking glance. "Perfect timing. You should watch closely. This is what your world looks like from the outside."

Desmond did not turn fully. He only listened.

The heels kept coming.

One step. Then another. Then another.

Not toward Tristan.

Not toward Nolan.

Not toward Bryce.

Not toward Evan.

The woman stopped beside Desmond.

Then, in full view of Tristan and his friends, she turned to him with a small respectful smile.

The booth went dead silent. None of them could hide it.