The Son-in-law

Glass And Silence

CHAPTER Two: 

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Jones mansion. The family gathered for breakfast as if the night before had been just another ordinary humiliation.

Billy sat at the far edge of the long mahogany table, eating silently, his mind still replaying the lawyer’s words: You are now the legal heir to the Porsche family estate.

Alice was already in full form, her pearls catching the light as she sipped her tea. “Tyla, darling, I heard Daniel Williams invited you to his charity gala. Such a fine young man—wealthy, handsome, and actually respected. Not like…” She waved a dismissive hand in Billy’s direction. “…this one.”

Karen snickered into her orange juice. Lucas smirked but said nothing, clearly enjoying his wife’s cruelty.

Billy kept chewing, calm. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But Alice wasn’t finished. “Honestly, Tyla, why cling to dead weight? You’re young. Beautiful. You could have a real life. Instead, you’re shackled to a man who can’t even pay for his own suit.”

The fork in Billy’s hand trembled—but not from anger. From restraint.

Tyla finally spoke. Her voice was soft, almost pleading. “Mother, please. Enough.”

Alice’s head snapped toward her daughter. “Enough? Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even started. Do you know what the neighbors say? That my daughter married a beggar. That’s the Anderson legacy now. You’ll drown with him if you don’t wake up.”

Something inside Billy cracked. Slowly, deliberately, he placed his fork on the plate and rose to his feet. The room stilled.

Alice smirked at him. “What is it, cleaner? Finally found your voice?”

Billy’s gaze was steady, his tone quiet but sharp as glass. “For years, I’ve endured your insults, your mockery, your little performances. You look at me and see a man broken. But let me tell you this—”

Alice stood, cutting him off with a venomous hiss. “You are nothing. You will always be nothing. My daughter married trash.”

Her hand whipped across the table and struck his cheek. The slap echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Tyla gasped. Karen’s jaw dropped in gleeful shock. Lucas leaned back, satisfied, waiting for Billy to crumble.

But Billy didn’t move. He didn’t shout, didn’t strike back. He simply lifted his eyes and looked Alice dead in the face.

The corner of his mouth curled into the faintest smile.

That smile terrified her more than any scream could.

Later, in the garage, Billy leaned against the hood of his old, rusted sedan. He touched his cheek where Alice’s hand had landed. The sting was already gone. What remained was fire—burning, searing, unstoppable.

He pulled out his phone, dialed the lawyer’s number. “This is Billy Anderson. When can I come to New York?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

That evening, the family gathered in the living room. Tyla sat beside Billy, tension tightening her shoulders. Alice lounged on the couch, still smug.

Lucas finally spoke, his voice calm but heavy. “Billy. I’ve tolerated you because of my daughter. But after this morning’s display, I’ve decided it’s time you left my house. Permanently.”

Alice’s smile widened. Karen clapped her hands softly, like she’d just witnessed a theater performance.

Tyla stiffened. “Father, please—”

Lucas raised a hand. “No more excuses, Tyla. If he wants to play the man, let him live like one. Out there.”

Billy’s heart should have sunk. But instead, he almost laughed. They were expelling him at the very moment destiny had shifted.

He stood slowly. His voice was calm, almost detached. “If that’s what you want, Mr. Jones, then fine. I’ll leave. But remember this moment. Remember how eager you were to throw me out.”

Lucas sneered. “Don’t threaten me, boy. You’re powerless.”

Billy’s eyes gleamed. “Not for long.”

Tyla followed him outside, her voice breaking. “Billy, where will you go?”

He paused, staring at the darkening sky. “To reclaim what’s mine.”

She caught his arm, tears welling. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I’m just… torn. Between you and my family. Between what I want and what they demand.”

Billy turned to her, his voice soft but steady. “Then you’ll have to decide, Tyla. Because soon, the choice won’t be mine anymore. It’ll be yours.”

He kissed her forehead gently, then pulled away.

The last thing she saw as he drove off into the night was not the broken man her family mocked, but a shadow of someone dangerous—someone rising.

Billy arrived in New York the next morning. The Porsche family lawyer met him at a towering skyscraper downtown.

“Mr. Anderson,” the lawyer said, shaking his hand firmly. “Shall we begin?”

The conference room doors opened. Stacks of documents, thick leather-bound ledgers, and digital portfolios filled the long oak table. Billy’s eyes widened as the numbers were laid out before him.

Billions. Estates, corporations, international holdings—all under his name.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t just wealth. This was power.

The lawyer’s tone was formal, but his eyes betrayed curiosity. “With this inheritance, you’re no longer Billy Anderson, the fallen businessman. You are now William Porsche, sole heir of one of the wealthiest dynasties in America.”

Billy’s reflection glimmered in the polished table. He didn’t recognize the man staring back. His jaw was tighter. His eyes darker.

He whispered to himself, almost a vow: “The cleaner is dead.”

Meanwhile, back at the Jones mansion, Alice reclined in her chair, recounting the morning’s slap to her friends over the phone, laughter spilling from her lips.

She had no idea that the man she mocked, the man she humiliated, was no longer crawling in the shadows.

Billy Anderson was rising. And when he returned, he would not return as a beggar.

He would return as a storm.