The Billionaire They Buried Alive

The afternoon sun beat against the cracked pavement outside Bennett Villa. Expensive cars filled the driveway, their polished bodies reflecting the light like mirrors. Inside the house, laughter drifted through the open windows as relatives gathered for Margaret Bennett's birthday celebration. In the middle of the busy kitchen stood Ethan Carter. His white shirt was damp with sweat. A faded apron hung around his waist while he carefully arranged steaming dishes onto serving trays. The aroma of roasted chicken, grilled fish, and fresh vegetables filled the room, but no one thanked him for preparing the meal. To the Bennett family, Ethan was simply the live-in son-in-law who never measured up. A servant hurried past him. "Mrs. Bennett wants the wine opened." Ethan nodded. "I'll do it." Before he could reach the dining room, someone deliberately bumped his shoulder. Red wine splashed across his shirt. "Oh." Jason Bennett, Sophia's younger cousin, smiled without the slightest hint of apology. "My bad." The dining room erupted in laughter. "Look at him." "He can't even hold a bottle." "I still don't understand why Sophia married someone like him." "Three years and he still hasn't bought a car." "He fixes other people's vehicles all day, but he can't afford one himself." Ethan lowered his eyes and quietly picked up the broken glass. He had heard worse. Much worse. Three years ago, when he married Sophia, he believed love could overcome anything. At first, it almost did. They rented a tiny apartment. Shared instant noodles. Dreamed about opening their own business. Back then, Sophia used to hold his hand and tell him that one day their hard work would pay off. But dreams became bills. Bills became arguments. Arguments became silence. Then came her family. Every dinner became another opportunity to remind Ethan that he wasn't good enough. He earned too little. He dressed too simply. He came from an ordinary background. Little by little, the woman who once defended him stopped speaking on his behalf. Today, she hadn't spoken to him once. Margaret entered the dining room wearing an elegant emerald dress. She looked Ethan up and down before frowning. "Go and change your shirt." "It's embarrassing." Ethan glanced at the wine stain. "I'll clean it after serving everyone." "I said go." Her sharp voice silenced the room. Guests turned toward Ethan with amused expressions. He quietly placed the tray on the table. "I'm sorry." As he turned to leave, another voice stopped him. "No." It was Sophia. She had just walked downstairs in a stunning silver evening dress. Every conversation paused. She looked beautiful. Confident. Successful. Everything Ethan had once been proud of. For a brief second, he hoped she was about to defend him. Instead, she looked at the stain on his shirt. "My mother is right." "You look untidy." "You'll only make people talk." Her words landed harder than any slap. Ethan forced a small smile. "I understand." Without another complaint, he walked upstairs. Inside the tiny guest room he had been using for months, he removed the stained shirt and stared at himself in the mirror. Dark circles rested beneath tired eyes. His hands were rough from repairing engines. He barely recognized the man staring back. A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Sophia entered. She closed the door behind her. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Finally, Ethan smiled gently. "You look beautiful today." She didn't smile back. "We need to talk." Something in her voice made his stomach tighten. He had heard those words before. Never for anything good. Sophia handed him a brown envelope. His heartbeat slowed. He already knew what was inside. Still, he opened it carefully. Divorce papers. His fingers remained still on the first page. The room became painfully quiet. "I've signed already," Sophia said softly. "I think... it's time we stop pretending." Ethan stared at the document. His chest felt strangely empty. No anger. No shouting. Just silence. "Is this what you really want?" Sophia looked away. "My family will never accept you." "I've tried." "I really have." "But we're living different lives now." "I've been promoted." "I'm building my future." "And you're still..." She stopped herself. Ethan finished the sentence for her. "A mechanic." She nodded almost invisibly. "I don't hate you." "I just can't keep living like this." Outside the room, laughter echoed from downstairs as the birthday party continued. Life carried on. As if a marriage wasn't ending only a few steps away. Ethan carefully closed the folder. "When do you want me to leave?" "Tonight." There was no hesitation. No tears. No attempt to hold him back. Only one word. "Tonight." Ethan stood quietly and walked toward the wardrobe. Everything he owned fit into one old backpack. A few shirts. Two pairs of trousers. A worn photograph from happier days. His toolbox. That was all. Sophia watched him pack. Several times she opened her mouth to speak. Each time, she changed her mind. When Ethan zipped the bag closed, he looked at her one final time. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for." Those simple words made something flicker in her eyes. Guilt. Regret. Or perhaps only relief. She couldn't tell. He walked downstairs carrying the old backpack over one shoulder. Every guest noticed. Margaret folded her arms. "So he's finally leaving." Jason laughed. "About time." Someone at the table even started clapping. Charles Bennett remained silent. He wanted to say something. Anything. But years of surrendering to his wife's opinions had left him speechless. Ethan reached the front door. He placed the house key on the table beside the entrance. "Thank you for giving me a place to stay." No one answered. He opened the door. Outside, the evening breeze carried the scent of approaching rain. He took one step beyond the gate. Then another. He never looked back. Halfway down the quiet street, a deep rumble echoed in the distance. Several black luxury cars turned the corner one after another. Their glossy paint reflected the fading sunlight. They moved slowly before stopping directly in front of Ethan. The doors opened almost at the same time. An elderly man in a perfectly tailored black suit stepped out. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his eyes were filled with emotion. Without caring who might be watching, the old man walked toward Ethan. Then he dropped to one knee. His voice trembled. "Young Master..." "We've finally found you." Ethan closed his eyes. After three years... The past had finally caught up with him.