The billionaire they buried

Chapter 2: The Worthless Son-in-Law

Two weeks before the anniversary.

The Morgan family mansion loomed before Ethan like a monument to everything he would never be. Its marble columns, sprawling gardens, and towering windows spoke of wealth so vast that the family who owned it had forgotten what it felt like to struggle for anything.

Ethan had never belonged here.

He walked through the grand entrance, past servants who barely acknowledged him, into the dining room where the family was already seated. Of course they were. They never waited for him.

"Finally," Daniel Morgan said without looking up from his phone. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost. Again."

Ethan forced a smile. "Traffic."

"Traffic." Daniel snorted. "In a car that probably breaks down every five miles. You should really consider public transportation, Ethan. It might be more your speed."

The table chuckled—Richard Morgan behind his newspaper, Eleanor with her practiced social smile, and the various extended family members who had gathered for Sunday dinner. Only Sophia remained silent, her eyes fixed on her plate.

Ethan took his usual seat at the far end of the table, as far from the head as physically possible. It was where he always sat. The "guest of honor" who was never truly welcome.

"Ethan," Eleanor said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "I heard you've been looking for a new job. How's that going?"

The question was a dagger wrapped in velvet. She knew exactly how it was going. She'd made sure of it.

"Still looking," Ethan said evenly. "The market is competitive."

"Competitive." Daniel laughed. "That's one way to say nobody wants to hire a man with no connections, no money, and no skills. What exactly do you do again, Ethan? I forget."

Ethan's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "I work at the marketing firm. I've been there for three years."

"Marketing." Daniel's grin widened. "That's adorable. Sophia, honey, why don't you just put him on the company payroll? Give him some title like 'Director of Nothing' so he can feel useful."

Sophia's fork clattered against her plate. "Daniel, that's enough."

"Just trying to help," Daniel said, shrugging innocently. "We're family, aren't we? We should look out for each other."

Richard finally lowered his newspaper. His cold blue eyes settled on Ethan with the dismissiveness of a man who had already written him off years ago. "Your mother is right, Ethan. You need to find stable employment. It reflects poorly on this family to have a son-in-law who can't provide for his wife."

Ethan's hands tightened beneath the table. "Sophia doesn't need me to provide for her. She's incredibly successful. I'm proud of her."

"Proud." Richard's voice was flat. "How generous of you."

The table erupted in laughter. Ethan felt the familiar heat of humiliation creeping up his neck. This was his life a constant cycle of insults disguised as concern, mockery disguised as advice.

And Sophia never defended him.

He glanced at her. She was staring at her plate, her face unreadable. But her hand was trembling, and she was clutching her phone beneath the table like a lifeline.

Something was wrong.

"Actually," Richard continued, "there's something we need to discuss. Sophia, would you like to tell him, or should I?"

Sophia's head snapped up. "Dad. Not now."

"Now is the perfect time," Eleanor interjected smoothly. "We're all here. The whole family. It's important."

The room fell silent. Ethan looked around at the faces surrounding him some curious, some amused, some eager to witness his humiliation.

"I don't understand," Ethan said carefully. "What's going on?"

Richard set down his newspaper and folded his hands on the table. "Ethan, you've been part of this family for five years. And in that time, you've contributed nothing. No money, no connections, no status. You've been a drain on our resources and a stain on our reputation."

Ethan felt the words hit him like physical blows. "I've tried—"

"You've tried," Richard cut him off. "And you've failed. Sophia deserves better. This family deserves better. We've been patient, but our patience has run out."

"So we've decided," Eleanor said, her smile never faltering, "that it's time for you to step aside. Divorce Sophia. Let her find a man who can actually provide for her. Someone worthy of her."

The table was dead silent. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. He looked at Sophia, hoping for some sign of resistance, some indication that she would fight for him.

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Sophia?" Ethan's voice cracked. "Is this what you want?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her phone buzzed loudly, insistently and she snatched it up. Her face went pale as she read the message.

"I... I need to take this," she whispered, pushing back from the table. "Excuse me."

She fled the room.

Ethan watched her go, a cold dread settling in his stomach. Something was wrong. She was hiding something. She'd been hiding something for months the secret calls, the late nights, the business cards he'd found in her purse.

"See?" Daniel said triumphantly. "Even your wife can't stand you."

The table laughed. Ethan's hands shook with barely contained rage. He wanted to scream, to fight back, to tell them all exactly what he thought of their money and their status and their cruel games.

But he didn't. Because he was the worthless son-in-law. And the worthless son-in-law didn't fight back.

He stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. "I'll talk to Sophia," he said quietly. "If she wants a divorce, she can tell me herself. I don't need a family meeting to decide my marriage."

He turned and walked out, leaving the laughter behind him.

--

Ethan found Sophia in the garden, her back to him, her phone pressed to her ear. She was whispering urgently, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I'll do whatever you want," she was saying. "Just leave him alone. He doesn't know anything. He's innocent in all of this."

There was a pause. Ethan stepped closer, his footsteps silent on the grass.

"Please," Sophia begged. "Just give me more time. I'll fix this. I'll do whatever you need. Just please don't hurt him."

She ended the call and turned around. Her face went white when she saw Ethan standing there.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enough," Ethan said. "Who were you talking to, Sophia? What's going on?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, and for a moment, he saw something in her eyes fear, desperation, guilt. He'd never seen her look so broken.

"I can't tell you," she whispered. "I want to. God, I want to tell you everything. But I can't. It's not safe."

"Safe?" Ethan's voice rose. "What are you talking about? What danger?"

Sophia stepped closer, reaching for his hand. He pulled away.

"I'm trying to protect you," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Everything I've done every mistake, every lie, every moment I let them humiliate you I did it to keep you alive."

Ethan stared at her, his heart pounding. "Keep me alive from what?"

She shook her head, backing away. "I can't tell you. Not yet. But I need you to trust me. Please, Ethan. Just trust me."

She turned and fled into the mansion, leaving him alone in the garden, more confused and terrified than ever.