The Useless Son-in-Law Is a Hidden Tycoon

"I do not care about your legs, Aren. I will love you through thick and thin forever."

Jasmine had made that promise three years ago.

They were standing in the cold rain outside her parents' house.

Her clothes were soaked through, and her hands trembled as she held onto him.

Her family had just thrown Aren out into the street, calling him a useless crippled burden.

They laughed at his wheelchair and told Jasmine to leave him.

But Jasmine stood in front of him like a shield.

She wiped the rainwater from his face and squeezed his hands tightly.

"When my company makes it big, I will find the best doctors in the world to fix your legs," she had sworn to him, her eyes bright with tears.

"I will never abandon you."

Aren sat alone in his wheelchair outside the glass office door, holding a small cardboard box while watching the same woman kiss another man.

Through the clear glass, Jasmine was wrapped tightly in Nikolai Wynn’s arms.

Nikolai held her waist, and Jasmine leaned into his chest with her eyes closed.

She was kissing him deeply and passionately, completely lost in the moment.

Aren tightened his fingers around the cheap bakery box until his knuckles turned white.

Inside was a tiny chocolate cake with a single birthday candle.

Today was Aren's birthday.

He had not asked for an expensive watch, a luxury car, or a grand dinner.

He only wanted to buy a humble cake and share a sweet moment with his wife after her long workday.

Aren already knew about their affair.

This was not the first time he had seen Jasmine with Nikolai.

Over the past few months, he had seen her hugging Nikolai in parking lots.

He had seen her coming out of fancy hotels late at night.

Every single time, she lied to his face and said it was just business.

Yet, seeing her kiss Nikolai so comfortably on his own birthday sliced through his heart like a sharp rusty blade.

His legs remained motionless beneath the thin blanket covering his knees.

He had endured her family’s daily insults for three long years.

He had accepted being called a useless live-in son-in-law because he believed Jasmine’s heart was pure.

Now, sitting in the cold hallway, Aren realized that sweet promise was dead.

Aren pressed the control knob on his wheelchair.

The quiet hum of the motor filled the hallway as the wheelchair carried him forward.

He pushed the heavy glass door open and rolled into the bright room.

The sound of the door made the two lovers snap apart.

Jasmine turned around fast, smoothing her silk dress with visible impatience.

Her soft smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a deep, irritated scowl.

"Aren? What are you doing here?" Jasmine demanded.

Her voice was cold, sharp, and full of annoyance.

"I told you I was having an urgent business meeting with Mr. Wynn tonight."

"It is my birthday, Jasmine," Aren said softly.

He placed the small cake box gently on the corner of her polished wooden desk.

"I bought a cake. I thought we could share a slice together."

Nikolai Wynn chuckled out loud.

He adjusted his tailored suit jacket and stepped forward, sipping a glass of red wine.

He looked down at Aren like he was staring at a piece of worthless trash.

"A birthday cake?" Nikolai mocked, his voice full of cruelty.

"Look at you, Aren. You roll in here with a five-dollar cake while Jasmine is trying to build a real future. Do you really believe a useless crippled husband like you can compete with a successful man?"

Nikolai turned toward Jasmine, smirking openly.

"Tell me, Jasmine, is this all you can expect from marriage? A useless live-in son-in-law who sits in a chair all day doing nothing?"

Aren did not yell. He remained completely silent, keeping his dark eyes fixed on Jasmine's face. A small part of him still expected her to defend him, even if only a little.

His total calm and unreadable silence began to make Nikolai uncomfortable.

Nikolai shifted his weight, his confident smirk wavering under Aren's steady stare.

Even Jasmine felt a strange chill run down her spine, unsettled by how quiet her husband was acting.

She remembered how he used to look at her with warm, loving eyes.

Tonight, his eyes were as cold as ice.

Instead of backing down, Jasmine hardened her expression.

She stared at Aren's wheelchair with an undisguised shame.

Her eyes showed how embarrassed she was to have a disabled husband standing beside a wealthy man like Nikolai.

"Nikolai is right, Aren," Jasmine said, her voice completely devoid of warmth.

"I am sick and tired of living like this. I am tired of coming home to a husband who cannot give me the life I want."

"Jasmine..." Aren started softly.

"No, Aren! Look at yourself!" Jasmine snapped, her voice growing colder.

"My parents treat you like a useless live-in son-in-law because that is exactly what you are! Nikolai is the kind of man I should have married from the start! He has real ambition, real status, and real power!"

Aren felt his heart smash into a thousand sharp pieces.

The woman who once swore to fight for him in the rain was now using the exact same cruel words her family used.

"So you really want to end this?" Aren asked quietly.

"Yes! I want a divorce!" Jasmine said without a second of hesitation.

She opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a thick white folder.

She slammed the folder down right next to his untouched birthday cake.

"Let us stop wasting time, Aren," Jasmine said coldly.

"Sign these divorce papers and leave my life. Stop dragging me down with your useless existence."

Nikolai smirked again, trying to regain his confidence as he leaned back against the desk.

"Go on, buddy," Nikolai taunted.

"Sign the papers. Unless you want to get on your knees and beg her to stay? Oh, wait—you cannot even stand up to beg."

Aren looked down at the white divorce papers resting on the dark wooden desk.

He looked at the cheap bakery box holding his small birthday cake.

Then he looked up into Jasmine's ice-cold, impatient eyes.

There was no love left in her face.

There was only greed, ambition, and disgust.

Aren did not shed a single tear.

He did not scream in anger, and he did not beg her to stay.

He reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out his black pen, and clicked it open.

For three years, he had endured everything for Jasmine.

Tonight, he finally had to decide whether she was worth losing himself for.