The invisible Groom

The morning sun crept tentatively through the thin curtains in the Dawson home, but it offered little comfort to the frigid atmosphere inside.

Ethan Cole stood in the living room, his back straight and his face a blank slate. He had just finished scrubbing the floor—again—because Vivian Dawson, his mother-in-law, insisted she spotted “a speck of dust.”

But dust wasn’t the real issue.

“Three years living here,” Vivian barked, her arms crossed, “and you still can’t handle a simple chore. Are you really this worthless, Ethan?”

He didn’t reply. He never did. Not out of weakness, but because this family didn’t have a clue who they were dealing with.

To them, he was just an inconsequential son-in-law.

To the outside world—at least the one he had once been a part of—he was entirely different.

Just as he was about to finish cleaning the final corner, Tanya Dawson, his sister-in-law, strutted in, her heels clacking like a countdown to judgment.

“Oh, look,” Tanya sneered, “the household pet is still mopping. Ethan, you really have committed to this loser role, haven’t you?”

Ethan kept his gaze down. He had learned long ago that the Dawsons thrived on any kind of attention—good or bad.

Tanya scoffed and turned to Vivian.

Vivian sighed theatrically.

That provoked Ethan to pause for a heartbeat.

Pretending?

But before he could delve deeper, he felt a sudden buzz in his pocket.

He froze.

That buzz—he recognized it immediately.

Slowly, cautiously, he pulled out his phone to read the message.

Just five words.

“Young Master, your exile ends today.”

His expression remained unchanged.

Ethan locked his phone and tucked it away just as Tanya noticed his stillness.

“What’s that?” she inquired, stepping closer. “Let me guess, another debt collector texting you?”

Vivian chuckled mockingly.

Ethan simply stood there.

But inside, a storm raged.

Three years of hiding.

And now… the time for exile was over.

A knock echoed at the door.

Vivian frowned. “Who could that be?”

Tanya peeked out the window, her face falling in disbelief.

“Mom… there are black cars outside. Six of them. And men in suits.”

Vivian scoffed. “For who? Surely not us.”

The doorbell rang again, sharp and authoritative.

The Dawsons hesitated.

Ethan did not.

He wiped his hands on the cloth, straightened his back, and walked calmly toward the door, each step purposeful and measured.

As he opened it, the men waiting outside instantly bowed in respect.

The leader stepped forward, his voice ringing out clearly enough to echo down the hallway. 

“Sir,” he announced, conviction resonating in his tone, “We’ve come to escort you home.”

The Dawsons stood frozen in place. A hush fell over the neighborhood. And at last, Ethan Cole raised his gaze.

The time of being the “useless son-in-law” had come to an end.