The Unwanted Son-in-law

Chapter 4

Adrian woke slowly. He had only dozed for a few minutes—or so he thought—but time felt stretched, warped, like the world had paused for him alone.

When he lifted his head, everything was different. His body no longer felt like a fragile cage—it felt like a weapon, honed and alive. Thoughts flowed faster than he could grasp, entire rivers of knowledge filling his mind before he even tried to summon them. Movements came naturally, instinctive, as if his body had been waiting for this moment all along.

He rose from the bathtub, water cascading down his skin and pooling across the tiles. The instant his bare feet touched the floor, it was like a floodgate had opened. Medicine, mathematics, philosophy—human secrets buried so deep no one should ever know them—rushed into him. His mind expanded beyond limits; every corner of knowledge felt within reach.

And his body—light, fluid, unnaturally strong. He could see the world in sharper detail, notice the faintest movements: dust motes floating like tiny lanterns, threads of sunlight carving invisible patterns in the air. He could sense the universe’s forces converging, whispering, drawing him closer, beckoning him to touch the raw pulse of existence.

A sudden, primal urge surged within him—to sink his feet into the earth, to merge with its untamed power, to drink from its raw, unspoiled energy.

Instead, he dressed quickly—shirt and trousers pulled on with precise, deliberate motions—and drifted toward the kitchen, a low hum rising from his throat.

The sound startled him.

He hadn’t hummed in years.

And yet now… everything felt exquisitely alive. Too alive. Too beautiful. The old man’s voice echoed in his memory, calm, authoritative, promising the greatness he had once dismissed. Adrian allowed himself a faint, knowing smile. He should never have doubted.

In the kitchen, he opened the cupboard. A simple collection of herbs—bay leaf, rosemary, lemongrass—caught his eyes. Things he had ignored for years now glimmered like treasures, each one pulsing with hidden potential.

Adrian lifted a sprig of rosemary into the sunlight spilling through the kitchen window. He turned it in his fingers, examining the delicate veins, the subtle fibers. His mind tore it apart and rebuilt it in an instant—its oils, its medicinal properties, how it reacted with water, heat, and other herbs.

If I truly understand as much as I feel… then it’s time to test it.

He moved with the confidence of a man who had done this a thousand times before. His hands measured without measuring, precise, deliberate. Leaves, water, heat—everything combined effortlessly, guided by a rhythm he didn’t realize he had possessed.

Minutes later, a steaming cup of hibiscus tea sat before him, delicate steam curling upward.

He lifted it to his lips and sipped.

The taste exploded across his tongue—perfect balance, perfect warmth. His chest expanded as his mind sharpened. His throat felt soothed. It was flawless.

A low, incredulous laugh escaped him. I actually did this. Adrian of yesterday would have never even tried.

Sliding into a chair, he allowed himself to savor each sip. For the first time in years, he felt fully present, fully alive, and fully himself.

“Mr. Hale!”

The sudden voice made him start. A maid had stepped into the kitchen, frozen mid-step, eyes wide as though she had walked into something f*******n. Her gaze flicked between the cup in his hand and the uncanny light in his eyes.

Adrian rose slowly, indifferent to her fear. He already knew what the staff whispered behind his back: useless husband, burden, incapable. At least some of them pretended to show respect.

Not her.

“Wait!” the maid exclaimed, wringing her hands. “Did you… hear the news?”

Adrian paused, curiosity flickering across his face.

“The family…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if the walls themselves could overhear. “They’re in trouble. Big trouble. Something about the company… a lawsuit. Really serious. I heard the others talking.”

Adrian tilted his head, lips twitching faintly. “Ah.” The word sounded casual, almost bored—but his mind blazed with clarity. Memories from earlier—the shouting, Victoria’s disbelief, Margaret’s furious voice—flickered through him. They had mentioned the company, a lawsuit. Normally, business was the last thing he would care about. But now? Now, his curiosity burned too fiercely to ignore.

The maid’s mouth dropped open. Her hands trembled, tray rattling. “Y-you… you can talk?”

Adrian gave no answer. He passed her with calm, deliberate steps, every motion measured.

He could already picture the chaos that would follow. She would rush to the others, whispering that the silent husband had spoken. They’d scoff, dismiss her, swear she’d imagined it. Perhaps that was just how it should be.

A low, strange melody began to rise from his lips. Quiet at first, like a shadow sliding across a room, then growing into a tune only he could hear.

“And I say… will you, will you ever… love me? Ever, ever…?”

He walked down the long corridor, heading toward Victoria’s office, his steps silent but resolute.

Then a laugh erupted from him—deep, rough, almost sinful. Even he startled at the sound. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he brushed them away quickly. Who would have thought his voice could sound like this? After years of silence, of being dismissed, of fading into the background, he had nearly forgotten he even had one.

Now, every note, every word, reminded him: Adrian Cole was no longer invisible.

For years, life had been nothing more than survival for Adrian. Breathing, waking, enduring—it had all felt meaningless. The thought of ending it had crossed his mind more times than he could count. Yet every time he stood at the edge, something pulled him back. A shadow. A man without a clear face. A presence that refused to let him disappear.

That ghost had kept him alive when nothing else could.

But now… everything had changed.

The emptiness was gone. In its place, something new had taken root. Something stronger.

Power.

Control.

His steps echoed softly along the corridor, steady and unhurried. But before he could reach the office doors, voices drifted toward him, sharp and careless.

“Isn’t that Hale’s mute husband?” a man scoffed, followed by a burst of laughter. “What a joke.”

Another voice joined in. “I still don’t get why she keeps him around. What’s the benefit?”

“Maybe she likes collecting useless things,” someone else added with a chuckle.

A woman’s voice cut through, smooth and mocking. “With her status and that company? Of course she doesn’t mind. It makes her look generous—like she’s doing charity work.”

Laughter rippled again.

“Honestly, that husband of hers… doesn’t he feel any shame at all?”

Adrian stopped.

His fists clenched, knuckles tightening until they threatened to c***k. For a brief moment, something dark surged inside him, rising fast, demanding release.

But he forced it down.

Not here.

Without a word, he turned away from their poisoned whispers and continued forward, his steps quieter now, more deliberate.

He reached the consultation room where he knew Victoria would be.

Just as he approached the door, another voice cut through from inside—sharp, furious, unmistakable.

“Are you trying to accuse me now? Look at my face!”

Adrian’s hand paused on the handle.

Something told him… this was about to get interesting.

He paused, ears straining.

Then came his wife’s voice—Victoria. Soft, strained, trying to stay composed. “No… she didn’t say that. She only meant… there was a misunderstanding in the past. Miss Mia, you have to understand.”

But Mia’s reply dripped venom. “Understand? Victoria, you should know better. You can’t face the world like this! You either compensate me, or you pay for the damages. You know what I’d like to do? I’ll sue your company, Miss Hale.”

Something inside Adrian snapped.

He couldn’t stay outside any longer. He pushed the door open and stepped in.

The room froze.

A young woman—Mia—sat in a chair, her face twisted with arrogance. Surrounding her were the people who had made his life unbearable: Chloe, Victoria’s younger sister, sharp-tongued and cruel; Margaret, their iron-hearted mother; and Avia, another sister, standing with arms crossed like a judgmental observer.

Victoria stood too, beautiful but cornered, her shoulders trembling beneath the weight of accusation.

Adrian’s gaze swept the room… and then froze.

Dorian Mercer.

The man who had haunted Victoria’s past. The man she had once loved.

He was here too.