The Son-in-Law Who Spent His Way to the Throne!

Chapter 4

The taxi stopped in front of a tall glass building. Carson paid the driver and stepped out. Hazel had told him to come up to the third floor, where a small meeting room was waiting.

He pushed open the door and found six people sitting around a long table. They were all singers, and he could tell by the way they dressed and the way they looked at each other. Hazel sat at the far end with her hands folded in her lap.

"Oh, look who finally showed up," a girl in a pink jacket said. "Is this the guy?"

"Hazel's new friend," a tall man with dyed hair laughed. "Hazel, is this really who you are bringing to your show?"

Carson stood by the door and said nothing. His clothes were still the same old ones, and he knew how he looked to them.

"You could have had Derrick Parker," the pink jacket girl said. "Do you know how many of us would die to have a scion like him chasing us? And you picked this one? He looks like he cannot even buy a bottle of water."

The others burst out laughing. Hazel stood up slowly. Her face was calm, but her eyes were not.

"Are you done?" she asked. "I called this meeting to talk about the show, not about my friends. If you want to talk about Derrick, go and talk to him."

She walked around the table and took Carson by the arm. "Let us go."

They left the room with the laughter following them down the hall. In the elevator, Hazel let out a long breath.

"I am so sorry," she said. "They are not always like this. Well, they are. But I should have warned you."

"It is fine," Carson said. "I have heard worse."

She looked at him and, for a moment, seemed to want to ask something. But the doors opened, and they walked out to the front of the building.

A white luxury car was parked by the road with its engine running. The door swung open, and a man in a shiny suit stepped out. He had slicked hair, a gold watch and a smile that Carson did not like at all.

"Hazel!" he said loudly. "I was just thinking about you."

Hazel's face dropped. "Derrick."

So this was Derrick Parker. He looked her up and down like she was something in a shop window. Then his eyes went to Carson, and his smile turned into a sneer.

"And who is this? Your driver?"

"This is my friend," Hazel said. "We are leaving."

"Not yet." Derrick stepped in front of her. "Come with me tonight, Hazel. I have a table booked at the best place in the city. No need to waste your time on trash like this."

"I said no."

"Do not be so stubborn." He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Get in the car."

"Let go of me!" Hazel tried to pull her arm back, but his grip was tight.

Carson did not think. He stepped forward and caught Derrick's hand, and with one squeeze, Derrick yelped and let go.

"She said no," Carson said.

"You dare touch me?" Derrick screamed. "Do you know who I am?"

Slap!

The sound echoed down the street. Derrick's head snapped to the side, and a red handprint bloomed on his cheek. His gold watch slid off and landed on the pavement.

For a second nobody moved. Then Carson took Hazel's hand. "Come on."

They walked away, leaving Derrick shaking on the sidewalk. He touched his face, and his eyes turned red with rage.

"Find out who he is," he hissed into his phone a moment later. "Everything. His name, his family, his job, how he eats breakfast. I want it all in one hour."

It took only thirty minutes. The man on the phone came back with a long report, and Derrick read it twice while his driver waited in the car.

"A freeloader?" Derrick laughed out loud. "He married into the Bruce family and does nothing but clean their floors?"

He laughed again, a long, nasty laugh. He had been expecting some hidden scion or a rich man's son. Instead it was a nobody, a househelp with a fancy title.

"This will be easy," he said, smiling. "A man like that disappears and nobody asks questions."

Meanwhile, Carson and Hazel were walking along the road to a small restaurant she knew. It was quiet and warm, not too fancy but nice. They sat by the window, and Hazel ordered for both of them.

"I am sorry about earlier," she said. "The meeting, and Derrick. You did not deserve that."

"You do not need to apologize," Carson said. "You did nothing wrong."

She smiled a little. "So tell me. What have you been doing all these years? I always wondered what happened to you."

He thought about the Bruce family, the empty promises and the floors he had cleaned. But he did not want her pity. So he told her something lighter, about how he used to sneak out of the orphanage to hear her sing in the school choir.

"You remember that?" Hazel laughed. "I thought nobody was listening."

"I was," Carson said. "You were the only reason I stayed for choir practice."

She laughed so hard that she covered her mouth. It had been a long time since he made anyone laugh like that, and it felt good. Hazel looked at him differently now, softer and warmer. Carson did not notice. His mind was still full of tasks, money and the company.

The food arrived, and the smell was wonderful. Carson picked up his fork, but before he could take a bite, a loud voice came from the door.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

Carson looked up, and his stomach dropped. Emily stood by the entrance in a tight red dress. Derrick Parker was right beside her with his arm around her waist.

Emily came straight to their table. "Carson. I thought you looked familiar. Are you dating now? And with a famous singer?" She laughed. "How sad. You are using her money to eat, aren't you?"

"Emily," Carson said quietly. "Leave."

"Why? I am only telling the truth." She turned to Hazel. "Miss, I feel sorry for you. This man is my husband. He has no job, no money, no home. He lives in my house and eats our food. He is nothing but a leech."

Hazel stood up, and her eyes were blazing. "That is not true. You cannot talk to him like that!"

"Hazel, stop," Carson said, touching her arm. He did not want a fight here.

Derrick was staring at Hazel now. He had not noticed her properly before, but with the lights on her face he finally saw who she was. "You... you are Hazel Flint, the singer. I did not know."

Hazel did not even look at him. "I do not want to talk to you."

"Please, Miss Hazel, I am a big fan," Derrick said, rushing forward with his hands out. "I did not mean to..."

She pushed his hands away. "Do not touch me."

His smile cracked. His eyes went from her to Carson, and the old anger came back, hotter than before. "You," he snarled. "You think you are so special? You are just a loser who got lucky."

Carson looked at both of them. He was tired. He had no money left in his account, no power in this place and no way to throw them out himself. He only had one choice.

"Hazel," he said quietly. "Could you do me a favor?"

She looked at him and nodded without even asking what it was. She walked straight to the manager and spoke to him in a low voice. A minute later, the manager hurried over with two guards.

"Sir, madam, I am sorry, but you will have to leave," he said to Emily and Derrick. "We will not tolerate this kind of behavior toward our guest."

"What?" Emily shrieked. "Do you know who we are?"

"Out," the manager said, pointing at the door.

Derrick looked ready to explode, but there was a crowd watching now. He grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her out, glaring at Carson over his shoulder the whole way.

Carson let out a breath. "Thank you, Hazel. I owe you one."

"Do not be silly." She smiled. "You saved me from Derrick today. Now we are even."

They finally ate their meal in peace. The food was good, and they talked about school, music and old teachers. Time went by so quickly that Carson almost forgot the world outside.

When the bill came, Hazel waved her card, but Carson's phone buzzed first. It was a message from the car showroom. The Ferrari was ready, and they would bring it to him.

"What is that?" Hazel asked.

"Nothing," Carson said. "Let us go out front."

They stepped out of the restaurant. The street was busy with people walking home. A low engine sound came rolling closer, and a red Ferrari Monza pulled up to the curb, shining under the street lamps.

Heads turned everywhere. A young man in a showroom uniform jumped out and held out the keys with both hands. He bowed so low that his forehead nearly touched his knees.

"Mr. Roman, your car is ready. Please forgive us for the wait."

He placed the keys in Carson's palm like they were made of gold.

The crowd outside the restaurant went silent. Some people stopped on the sidewalk and stared. A few took out their phones. Emily and Derrick were standing at a corner across the street, and their jaws had dropped.

"No way," someone whispered. "That is a Ferrari Monza. Who is that man?"

"It must be Hazel's car," another person said. "She is a big star. She must have sent someone to bring it."

Emily crossed the street fast, with Derrick behind her. She stared at the car, then at the keys in Carson's hand, and then she laughed a high, shaky laugh.

"Do not fall for this," she said loudly to the crowd. "That car is not his. Hazel is only helping him save face. He is a broke leech who wants to look rich for a night. Do not be fooled."

Some people nodded as if it made sense. Others whispered to each other. Hazel opened her mouth to say something, but Carson shook his head.

He opened the passenger door for her. She got in with a small, worried smile. Then he walked around, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Leech!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"Freeloader!" said another.

Carson did not turn his head. He pressed the pedal, and the Ferrari roared down the street, leaving every voice behind.