After My Rebirth, My In Laws Regretted Everything

Testing The Waters (Continued)

"No."

The word echoed across the ballroom. Victoria stood in the doorway, her face streaked with tears and mascara, her wedding dress crumpled from where she'd been sitting in the bathroom. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

"What did you just say?" she finally managed.

"I said no," Marcus repeated calmly. "No divorce. We just got married. We're staying married."

"You can't— I don't want—" Victoria's voice rose to a near shriek. "You don't get to decide that!"

"Actually, I do. Marriage is a contract. It takes two people to agree to end it. I'm not agreeing."

Richard pushed through the crowd, his face purple with rage. His silver hair was disheveled now, his expensive tuxedo jacket unbuttoned. He looked like a man barely holding onto his composure.

"You son of a b***h," Richard growled. "My daughter wants a divorce. You're going to give her one."

"That's not how it works, Richard."

"Don't you dare use my first name—"

"We're family now," Marcus interrupted. "You said so yourself. Multiple times. In front of all these witnesses."

He gestured to the crowd of guests, all of whom were watching with rapt attention. This was better than any television drama. The Ashford family, always so composed, so perfect, falling apart at their own daughter's wedding.

Catherine appeared beside her husband, her face a mask of cold fury. Her gray eyes were calculating, already working through strategies. She was the dangerous one, Marcus remembered. She was always thinking three steps ahead.

"Marcus," Catherine said, her voice like ice. "Let's discuss this privately. Like reasonable adults."

"I am being reasonable," Marcus replied. "Victoria wants a divorce after three hours of marriage. That's not reasonable. That's impulsive. Emotional. Not the kind of decision you make without careful thought."

"You've been acting insane all night!" Victoria shrieked. "You embarrassed me! You embarrassed my family! You—"

"I gave a speech at our wedding," Marcus said. "A speech about promises and truth. If that embarrassed you, maybe you should ask yourself why."

Victoria's face went red. "Because you made us look like— like we're— like there's something wrong with us!"

"Is there something wrong with you?" Marcus asked innocently.

The crowd murmured. Richard looked like he might have a stroke. Catherine's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Enough," Catherine said quietly. The single word cut through the noise like a knife. "Everyone, please continue enjoying the reception. This is just wedding night jitters. Perfectly normal. Nothing to be concerned about."

She smiled at the guests, that practiced society smile that said everything was fine, everything was under control. Several people nodded and turned back to their conversations, but most kept watching. This was too good to miss.

Catherine grabbed Marcus's arm, her fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "You're coming with me. Now."

"I don't think—"

"I don't care what you think," Catherine hissed. "Move. Or I will have security drag you out of here in handcuffs."

Marcus allowed himself to be pulled toward a side door. Richard followed, then Victoria, still crying. Derek stumbled after them, somehow having acquired another champagne bottle.

They ended up in the same small conference room from earlier. Catherine shoved Marcus inside and slammed the door. The five of them stood in the dark space—Marcus, Victoria, Richard, Catherine, and Derek holding his champagne like a security blanket.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Richard exploded. "What kind of game are you playing?"

"No game," Marcus said. "I'm just being honest."

"Honest?" Richard laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You want honesty? Fine. Here's honesty. You're nothing. You have nothing. You are nothing. The only reason you're here, the only reason my daughter lowered herself to marry you, is because we needed someone expendable. Someone we could use and throw away when we were done."

"Richard!" Victoria gasped. "You can't just—"

"He already knows," Richard snapped. "Derek told him, didn't you, you drunk i***t?"

Derek raised his champagne bottle in mock salute. "Guilty as charged."

"So yes, we planned to use you," Richard continued, advancing on Marcus. "We planned to make you an officer of the company, sign over some assets to you, and then when everything collapsed, blame it all on you. The outsider who ruined everything. The nobody from Queens who was in over his head."

Marcus felt his jaw clench. Hearing it confirmed, hearing Richard say it so casually, made rage burn in his chest. But he kept his voice calm.

"And the apartment? My mother's apartment?"

"Collateral," Catherine said coldly. "We needed immediate capital. The apartment was available. We sold it."

"To Damien Cross."

"Yes. Damien is a business partner. A very valuable business partner. Much more valuable than you."

"So you stole my property and gave it to your business partner," Marcus said slowly. "The same business partner who's sleeping with my wife."

The room went dead silent.

Victoria's face drained of color. Richard and Catherine exchanged a quick glance. Derek actually stopped drinking.

"What did you say?" Victoria whispered.

"You heard me," Marcus replied. "Damien Cross. Your business partner. Your investor. He's also sleeping with Victoria. Or planning to. Or maybe already has been. I'm not entirely sure of the timeline yet."

"That's— that's insane!" Victoria sputtered. "I would never— Damien is just—"

"Just what?" Marcus pressed. "Just a family friend? Just someone your father does business with? Just someone who happens to be at our wedding, asking questions about me, threatening me, buying my dead mother's apartment?"

"He bought the apartment as an investment," Richard said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty. "A business transaction."

"Right. Business." Marcus looked at Victoria. "Is that what you call it? Business?"

"I'm not sleeping with Damien!" Victoria shouted. "I just married you! We literally got married three hours ago!"

"Then why did Derek say you should tell me about Damien? Why did he say that was the real reason you agreed to this marriage?"

Everyone turned to look at Derek. He raised his hands defensively, champagne sloshing.

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm just the drunk brother nobody listens to. What do I know?"

"Derek," Catherine said, her voice dangerous. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth," Derek said, and for a moment his voice was clear. Sober. "That Victoria's been seeing Damien for months. That she only agreed to marry Marcus because Dad said she had to. That the whole thing is a setup to protect Damien's investment when the company goes under."

"You little—" Richard lunged at Derek, but Catherine caught his arm.

"Stop," she commanded. "Everyone just stop."

She turned to Marcus, and her face was completely calm now. Too calm. Like she'd flipped a switch and turned off all emotion.

"You're very clever," Catherine said. "Cleverer than we gave you credit for. You've figured out more than you should have. So let's dispense with the pretense, shall we?"

"Mom!" Victoria protested.

"Quiet, Victoria. He knows. Derek made sure of that." Catherine never took her eyes off Marcus. "Yes, we planned to use you. Yes, we sold your apartment without proper authorization. Yes, Damien is involved with our daughter. Yes, this entire marriage was arranged for business purposes."

Marcus felt his stomach drop. She was just admitting it. All of it. No shame, no guilt, just cold facts.

"The question is," Catherine continued, "what are you going to do about it?"

"I could go to the police," Marcus said. "Report fraud. Forgery. Maybe even conspiracy."

Catherine laughed. A genuine laugh, like he'd said something hilarious.

"And tell them what? That you signed papers you didn't read? That you willingly married into a family and now regret it? That you have suspicions about an affair with no proof?" She shook her head. "Marcus, we've been doing this for thirty years. We have lawyers who make your yearly salary in a week. We have judges who owe us favors. We have documentation for everything, all of it legal, all of it airtight."

"Not everything," Marcus said.

"Everything that matters," Catherine replied. "You signed the apartment transfer. You signed the company documents. You married Victoria of your own free will. Every single thing we've done is legal. Immoral, perhaps. Unethical, certainly. But legal."

Richard was nodding now, his confidence returning. "She's right. You have nothing. No proof, no leverage, no options. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to go back out there, smile for the guests, finish this reception. Tomorrow, you and Victoria will quietly separate. We'll arrange an annulment, claim fraud or whatever legal reasoning our attorneys recommend. You'll sign some papers, accept a small settlement to keep quiet, and disappear."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we destroy you," Richard said simply. "We'll make sure you never work in tech again. We'll sue you for breach of contract. We'll tell everyone you're unstable, violent, a threat. We'll ruin your reputation so thoroughly that no one will ever believe a word you say."

Marcus looked at Richard—this man who'd shaken his hand at the engagement, who'd called him son, who'd promised to welcome him into the family. All lies. Every word had been lies.

"You'd do that?" Marcus asked quietly. "Destroy someone's entire life just to cover up your own failures?"

"In a heartbeat," Richard said. "That's how business works, boy. That's how survival works. You do whatever it takes to protect what's yours."

"Even if it means ruining an innocent person?"

"There are no innocent people," Catherine said. "Only winners and losers. Only the smart and the stupid. You were stupid enough to think we actually cared about you. That's not our fault."

Marcus felt something shift inside him. In his first life, this would have broken him. Hearing them say these things, admitting they'd never cared, that he'd meant nothing—it would have destroyed him.

Now it just made him angry. Clear, focused, controlled anger.

"You're right," Marcus said slowly. "I was stupid. Stupid to trust you. Stupid to think you had any decency. Stupid to believe that people like you were capable of basic human kindness."

"Finally, you understand," Richard said.

"But I'm not stupid anymore," Marcus continued. "And that's going to be a problem for you."

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," Marcus said, echoing her earlier words. "You want to play games? Fine. Let's play. But don't expect me to lose quietly."

"You'll lose because you have to lose," Richard said. "You have nothing. We have everything."

"Do you?" Marcus pulled out his phone. "Because I've been recording this entire conversation. Every word. Every admission. Every threat."

The room went silent. Victoria's eyes went wide. Richard's face turned purple again. Catherine's mask finally cracked, showing something like alarm.

"You're bluffing," Catherine said.

Marcus hit play on his voice memo. Richard's voice came through clearly: "We planned to make you an officer of the company, sign over some assets to you, and then when everything collapsed, blame it all on you."

Then Catherine's voice: "Yes, we planned to use you. Yes, we sold your apartment without proper authorization."

Marcus stopped the recording and smiled. "Am I bluffing?"

"That's illegal!" Richard sputtered. "You can't record people without their consent!"

"Actually, in New York, I can. Single-party consent state. As long as one person in the conversation knows about the recording, it's legal. I'm that person." Marcus slipped his phone back in his pocket. "And I've been recording since the wedding reception started. Every conversation. Every threat. Everything."

Catherine's face had gone very pale. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Marcus laughed. "I want what you promised me. I want to be treated like family. Like an equal. Like someone who matters."

"That's not—"

"I also want my mother's apartment back," Marcus continued. "And I want Victoria to honor her marriage vows. And I want to be properly compensated for any work I do for the company. Fair wages, proper contracts, everything above board."

"You can't be serious," Richard said.

"I'm completely serious. Those are my terms. You accept them, or I send these recordings to the police, to the press, to everyone you do business with. Let's see how your reputation holds up when people hear you admitting to fraud and conspiracy."

"You wouldn't dare," Catherine said, but there was uncertainty in her voice now.

"Wouldn't I?" Marcus met her eyes. "You just spent the last hour telling me I'm nobody. That I have nothing. That I don't matter. What do I have to lose?"

Victoria was crying again, quieter now. "Marcus, please. Can't we just— can't we just end this? Get the divorce, go our separate ways? Why do you want to stay married to someone who doesn't love you?"

The question hit harder than Marcus expected. Why did he want to stay married to Victoria? In his first life, he'd loved her desperately, pathetically. Now he felt nothing but contempt.

But the marriage was leverage. As her husband, he had legal rights. Access to information. A position inside the family that would let him destroy them from within.

"Because I made a promise," Marcus said quietly. "I promised to be the son-in-law you deserve. And I intend to keep that promise."

"This is blackmail," Richard said.

"No, this is negotiation. You wanted to use me? Fine. I'll let you use me. But on my terms, not yours. I'll work for the company. I'll stay married to Victoria. I'll play the part of the grateful son-in-law. But you're going to treat me with respect. You're going to honor your agreements. And you're going to give me back what you stole."

"We can't just give back the apartment," Catherine said. "It's already sold. The transaction is complete."

"Then buy it back from Damien."

"Do you have any idea how much that would cost?"

"I don't care. That's your problem, not mine." Marcus headed toward the door. "You have until tomorrow to decide. Agree to my terms, or I release the recordings. Your choice."

"Wait," Catherine said. "Just wait. Let's not be hasty about this."

Marcus stopped but didn't turn around.

"What if we offered you money?" Catherine continued. "A substantial amount. Enough to start over somewhere else. You could buy a new apartment. Build a new life. Away from all this."

"You're trying to pay me off."

"I'm trying to find a solution that works for everyone."

"The solution that works for everyone is the one I already proposed," Marcus said. "I stay married. I work for the company. You treat me fairly. Simple."

"It's not that simple," Richard said. "You don't understand the complexities—"

"I understand perfectly," Marcus interrupted. "You're bankrupt. You need someone to blame. You thought I'd be easy to control. Now you realize I'm not. So you're scrambling to figure out how to handle me."

"We are not bankrupt," Richard said stiffly.

"Yes, you are. Or you will be soon. I'd guess you have maybe three months before everything collapses. Four if you're lucky." Marcus turned to face them. "The question is whether you want me as an enemy when that happens, or as someone who might actually help you survive it."

Catherine and Richard exchanged a long look. Some silent communication passed between them, the kind of wordless understanding that came from decades of marriage and partnership.

"What do you mean, help us survive?" Catherine asked carefully.

"I mean exactly what I said. You need money. You need someone who can actually turn the company around. Someone with skills that are valuable in the current market." Marcus paused. "I can be that person. Or I can be the person who destroys you. Your choice."

"Why would you help us?" Richard demanded. "After everything we've done?"

"Because I'm married to your daughter. Because like it or not, we're family now. And because despite everything, I'm not actually trying to destroy you. I'm just trying to survive you."

The words hung in the air. Derek took another drink from his champagne bottle. Victoria sobbed quietly in the corner. Richard and Catherine stared at Marcus like they were seeing him for the first time.

"This is insane," Richard finally said. "This whole night has been insane."

"Maybe," Marcus agreed. "But it's also the truth. For the first time since I met you people, someone is telling the truth."

Catherine's face was unreadable. She studied Marcus for a long moment, her gray eyes calculating probabilities and outcomes.

"We need to discuss this privately," she said finally. "As a family. Without you."

"Take all the time you need," Marcus said. "But I want an answer by tomorrow morning. Ten AM. Meet me at Hayes' restaurant on Amsterdam Avenue."

"That dump?" Richard scoffed. "We're not meeting you at some cheap diner."

"Then we don't meet at all," Marcus said simply. "And the recordings go public."

He opened the door and walked out, leaving the Ashford family in shocked silence behind him.

The reception was winding down. Guests were gathering coats and saying their goodbyes, all of them buzzing with gossip about the dramatic evening. Marcus spotted Damien Cross near the exit, on his phone again.

Marcus walked straight toward him.

Damien looked up as he approached, his expression guarded. "Marcus. Leaving already?"

"Just wanted to say thank you," Marcus said pleasantly.

"For what?"

"For showing me exactly who you are. Makes everything so much easier when people are honest about being terrible."

Damien's jaw tightened. "Careful. You're making enemies you can't afford to have."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you," Marcus replied. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "You bought my mother's apartment. I want it back."

"It's not for sale."

"Everything's for sale. You taught me that. Everyone has a price, everyone has a weakness. Isn't that what you said?"

"Are you threatening me?" Damien asked quietly.

"I'm negotiating. Just like you would. Just like the Ashfords would. I'm playing by your rules now."

"My rules will destroy you."

"Maybe," Marcus said. "Or maybe I'll destroy you first. We'll find out."

He walked away before Damien could respond, heading toward the hotel exit. The cool night air hit his face as he stepped outside, and for the first time all evening, Marcus felt like he could breathe.

His phone buzzed. A text from Sophia: "Are you okay? People are saying crazy things about your wedding."

Marcus smiled and typed back: "I'm fine. See you tomorrow at 10. Hayes' restaurant. Bring your boss if you can."

Another buzz. This one from a number he didn't recognize: "This is Derek. Got your number from Victoria's phone. You were serious about taking them on?"

Marcus hesitated, then replied: "Yes. Are you serious about helping?"

"Maybe. If you can really get me my trust fund. If you can really get me out."

"I can try. Stay sober enough to be useful."

"No promises. But I'll try too."

Marcus pocketed his phone and looked up at the Sterling Grand Hotel, all lit up against the night sky. Somewhere in there, the Ashford family was scrambling, trying to figure out how to handle him. Trying to regain control of a situation that had spiraled completely out of their grasp.

Let them scramble. Let them worry. Let them regret.

Because Marcus Kane had died once at their hands. He'd begged, bled, and broken for them.

Never again.

A taxi pulled up and Marcus climbed in, giving the driver the address of a hotel—not the apartment Victoria had picked out, but a cheap place in Brooklyn where no one would think to look for him. He needed time to think. Time to plan his next move.

As the taxi pulled away from the hotel, Marcus's phone rang. Unknown number.

He answered. "Hello?"

"Mr. Kane?" A woman's voice, professional and crisp. "This is Jennifer Wu. I'm a property attorney. Sophia Chen called me about your situation. She said you need help urgently."

Marcus felt relief wash over him. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"She also said you're fighting the Ashford family. Is that true?"

"It is."

There was a pause. Then Jennifer Wu laughed, a sharp, delighted sound.

"Good," she said. "I've wanted to take down those pompous bastards for years. When can we meet?"

"Tomorrow. Ten AM. Hayes' restaurant on Amsterdam."

"I'll be there. And Mr. Kane? Don't sign anything else. Don't agree to anything. Don't talk to anyone from that family without me present. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we start fighting back."

She hung up. Marcus leaned back in the taxi seat, exhaustion finally catching up to him. It had been the longest night of his life—both lives combined.

But it was just the beginning.

The taxi merged into traffic, carrying Marcus away from his wedding, away from the Ashfords, away from everything he'd thought his life would be.

Toward something new.

Toward revenge.

Toward justice.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Rough night?"

Marcus smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile.

"You have no idea."

His phone buzzed one more time. Another text from an unknown number: "This is Catherine Ashford. We need to talk. Privately. Without recordings. Tomorrow, 9 AM, before your lawyer meeting. I'll come to you. Where are you staying?"

Marcus stared at the message for a long moment.

Catherine wanted a private meeting. Without recordings. Before he met with his lawyer.

She was planning something. Some new manipulation, some new scheme to regain control.

But this time, Marcus would be ready.

He typed back: "Room 412, Brooklyn Arms Hotel. Come alone."

Her response came immediately: "See you at 9."

Marcus looked out the taxi window at the city lights streaming past, and felt something cold and hard settle in his chest.

Tomorrow morning, Catherine Ashford would walk into his hotel room thinking she was in control.

Tomorrow morning, she would learn how wrong she was.