THE DISGRACED HUSBAND IS A BILLIONAIRE

08: A PAINFUL WORDS

Gabriel’s hands were balled into fists as he reached the school gate. Just a few more steps and he’d be out. Free. Away from everything.

But before he could slip through, the guard moved in front of him.

“Hey,” the guard said. His voice wasn’t mean, but it wasn’t soft either. “Where are you going? You can’t leave. It’s still school hours.”

Gabriel didn’t answer. His breathing was off. He kept his head down, staring at the ground like maybe.. if he didn’t look up, the guard would just disappear.

“Do you have a pass?” the guard asked again, more careful this time. “If you don’t, you can’t go out right now.”

Something twisted inside Gabriel. Another rule. Another person telling him what he couldn’t do. When all he wanted was to get out.

“I said…” Gabriel muttered. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes burned, not just with anger, but something deeper. Something heavier. “I said I’m leaving.”

The guard straightened. He could feel the change. “You can’t. That’s the rule. Go back inside and..”

“I said I’m leaving!” Gabriel snapped, louder now. His voice cracked, like it couldn’t hold everything inside anymore.

A few students nearby turned to stare. Whispering started again, quiet, but sharp enough to sting.

The guard stepped closer and raised a hand to block him. “Calm down,” he said. “You’re not allowed to.. ”

Gabriel didn’t think. He didn’t stop. But because something inside him was broke. His fist moved before he could stop it. It was a sudden motion. Fueled by anger, embarrassment, and the desperate need to get away from everything closing in on him.

The punch landed. A sharp gasp spread through the air. And then everything went still.

Even Gabriel froze. His chest heaved, his hand still slightly raised, his mind struggling to process what he had just done.

But then the noise came rushing back, the whispers, the shock, the tension.. and it was too much. Without a word, without a glance back, Gabriel turned and walked out.

As if the only thing that mattered now was getting as far away as possible, from the school, from the people… and from the truth he could no longer escape.

Not even when Janina.. his best friend, the only one who still tried to reach him, ran after him. “Gabriel, stop! Please, just talk to me... don’t do this!”

But her voice couldn’t reach him.

Nothing could stop him.. so he went home.

The house stood quiet, almost peaceful, as if it didn’t know the storm he carried within him.

In the garden, George knelt beside a patch of soil, carefully planting his mother’s favorite flowers. His movements were gentle, like someone trying to make up for something he could never undo.

When the father noticed his son Gabriel, his face lit up with a hopeful smile.

“Gab? You’re home early… You should’ve called me. I could’ve picked you up.”

But Gabriel didn’t see kindness in him. He saw the source of everything. His humiliation. His anger. His isolation. Every whisper at school, every stare, every word, murderer... all of it pointed back to the man in front of him.

“Why did you come back?” Gabriel’s voice trembled, thick with fury. “Why now?”

George stood slowly, confusion turning into concern. “Gab… my son...”

“Don’t call me that!” Gabriel snapped. His fists clenched.

"I wish you hadn't shown up. I wish you hadn't come back here."

The words hung heavy in the air. George’s face fell, the weight of guilt settling deeper into his expression.

“I know… I know I shouldn’t have done what I did,” he said quietly. “But I came back because I love you. I love your mom. I want to fix things...”

“Love?” Gabriel let out a bitter laugh, his eyes burning. “What is love to you? After everything… you think you can just come back and say that?”

He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You’re a stranger in this house.”

From the corner of the house, Selene stood frozen. She had heard everything... Every words. Her heart ached as she watched her son unravel, his pain spilling out in ways she couldn’t stop. And there stood George... the man she once loved, the man who had broken their family.. now silently enduring the consequences of his past.

She wanted to step in. To defend.. looking for some words that may comfort her son's emotions. She wanted to scream for him. But she couldn’t move. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. What was the point? For whom would she cry?

George, our family was already shattered. The foundation that once stood on had crumbled long ago, and you are the one who is supposed to protect us, but instead you are the one who destroy it.

Selene releases these words as if the air is listening to her.

At that moment, the house felt smaller, and heavier. Filled with words that could never be taken back... and wounds that might never fully heal.

After the gardening, George carefully laid the large doormat just inside the front door. It was green, soft against the polished floor, with the words “Welcome Home” stitched neatly across its surface.

For a moment, he stepped back and frowned. It was slightly crooked. He bent down again, picking it up to straighten it. He wanted it to be perfect, just like everything he had been trying so hard to fix. (His family)

But just as he adjusted it into place, the door suddenly swung open.

Bang.

“Ahhh!” George cried out as his left hand was caught painfully between the door and the frame

.

The sharp pain shot through his fingers. His breath hitched as he struggled to pull free, his face twisting in agony.

Standing at the doorway was Madam Josefina, Selene's mother.

She looked startled at first, clearly not expecting anyone to be there. But the shock on her face quickly hardened into something colder, something far more cutting when she first saw her son in law.

“Oh… it’s you, George,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“So it’s true, then. Gabriel’s classmate told me… his father, the murderer.. has come back after eight years.”

George inhaled sharply, forcing himself to endure the throbbing pain in his hand as he pushed the door open and freed his fingers.

“Mom… it’s not true,” he said, his voice strained but controlled.

“Mom?” she snapped immediately. “Don’t call me that. I don’t have a murderer son-in-law. He died eight years ago.”

Her words struck deeper in his heart, than the injury.