The Unwanted Son-in-law

chapter 1

“I really don’t want to take him — he’s a complete idiot.”

The words sliced through the hallway without hesitation. They came from Chloe Hale, her voice smooth but laced with disdain, the kind she used so often it sounded natural. She leaned against the stair railing, arms crossed, her expression twisted in open annoyance. Though younger than Adrian by a few years, she carried herself like someone far above him—like he didn’t even deserve to stand in the same space.

Adrian had grown used to that look.

“You don’t have a choice,” Margaret Hale replied, her heels clicking steadily as she approached his door. Authority followed her without effort, filling the house before she even spoke again. “Adrian is the only one available to take you and bring you back.”

“Oh, please,” Chloe let out a short, mocking laugh. “You mean because he’s too spineless to say no.”

“You should learn to appreciate that,” Margaret said coolly, as if offering advice instead of an insult. “Not many men would tolerate your behavior. At least Adrian won’t argue—he doesn’t have the courage to.”

Chloe scoffed under her breath. “If anything, he should be thankful. Living under this roof is already more than he deserves.” Her gaze shifted toward the closed door, sharp and deliberate. “I still don’t get why Victoria married him.”

Inside the room, Adrian sat in silence.

The door wasn’t thick enough to keep their voices out. Every word slipped through, settling heavily in his chest until it felt tight and hard to breathe. He had learned long ago not to react, not to fight back.

Still… it stung.

There was a time—brief and fragile—when he thought things might change after marrying Victoria. He had believed, even if just for a moment, that it meant something.

But it hadn’t.

He had taken her name because she wanted a story the public would admire. Because the money would keep his grandmother alive a little longer. Because he had no better choice.

If he had, he would have walked away.

Adrian dropped onto the bed, his body folding in on itself like it could no longer hold its own weight. His fingers tightened around his throat, pressing hard, as if there were something trapped inside that needed to escape.

The pressure that had been building in his chest all day slowly loosened when his feet touched the cold floor.

He stood.

His eyes moved across the room—not like someone living in it, but like someone measuring it. The window. The distance to the ground. The quiet street below. The objects scattered around—anything that might offer a way out that didn’t feel… ugly.

He didn’t want pain.

He didn’t want struggle.

If it had to end, he wanted it to be quiet. Clean. Like drifting into sleep without ever waking again.

A sharp knock broke the silence.

“Adrian!” Margaret’s voice followed immediately, firm and impatient. “Open this door. You’re taking Chloe out.”

From the hallway, Chloe’s voice slipped in, full of irritation. “Why does he even get to lock his door? It’s not like he has anything worth hiding.” A loud thud followed as she kicked the wood. “If he doesn’t open it, just break it down.”

“If you damage it, you’ll pay for it,” Margaret replied flatly. No anger, no emotion—just a rule stated like it couldn’t be questioned.

Chloe let out a dramatic sigh. “God, I can’t stand him.”

Adrian didn’t respond.

Instead, he turned toward the window.

The ledge seemed to call to him, silent but clear.

For a brief moment, a thought crossed his mind—sharp, sudden, almost tempting. What if he just… ended it? One step forward, and everything would be over. No more voices. No more humiliation. No more emptiness.

But just as quickly—

Something inside him snapped back.

No.

The voice in his head wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t calm. It roared—violent and unyielding, shaking through him like a force he couldn’t control.

Adrian pressed a hand to his forehead; it burned as if the memory itself were a brand. The voice inside him had been born the night he had tried to end it all. Newly married, raw and hollow, desperate for the warmth Victoria had promised but never given, he had stood on a bridge, convinced the river would welcome him like mercy.

Instead, he woke in the arms of an old man crouched under the bridge, smelling of wet earth, river mud, and something older—older than regret itself.

“You’ll survive,” the man said, his words heavy, unavoidable, like a verdict handed down from some unseen court. “But there’s a price. Are you willing to pay it?”

Adrian had tried to crawl back toward the water, shaking his head, his voice barely a whisper. “No… I just want it to end. I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

The old man’s gaze didn’t waver. “You have two paths. You can die here, forgotten… or you can take this and remain silent now, but in three years, you will be someone no one forgets. Which do you choose?”

“Silent?” Adrian croaked, confusion mixing with dread. The old man’s hands were steady, fearless.

“Your emotions will be locked away,” the man explained. “Smothered. Hidden. But in three years… they will erupt. You will be remembered.” He forced Adrian’s mouth open and poured a bitter, metallic powder down his throat. Wrong, unbearable—but Adrian swallowed. He had nothing left to refuse.

At first, the voice inside him was a whisper—soft, almost polite. Over the years, it grew into a presence that filled every corner of his mind. It silenced him when it wished, kept him from making noise, kept him from being a nuisance. A guard. A cage. A companion he had never asked for.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. Margaret Hale pushed the bedroom door open, her expression crisp and practical, leaving no room for sympathy.

“Adrian,” she said, voice even, precise. “Did you hear me? Victoria and I need to finish dinner. You’re taking Chloe to the mall.”

Chloe climbed into the passenger seat as if she owned it, swinging one leg over the other with deliberate elegance. The engine growled beneath Adrian’s touch, and only when the metal warmed against his bare toes did he realize he’d come outside in pajamas, shoeless. He stared at his feet for a long moment, detached. Why does the pain feel… so manageable? the voice inside him asked, cold and curious.

“When we get to the mall,” Chloe said, her voice sharp, precise, “you stay out of sight. My friends cannot know I was stuck with my sister’s useless husband.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face, the motion small, deliberate, and full of practiced grace. “Honestly… I still don’t understand why Victoria married you.”

Adrian wanted to reply. Words lined up in his chest, patient and useless. The voice inside him folded them away like scraps of paper it had no use for. He shifted the car into gear, hands steady but eyes distant, wrapped in a numbness that made the world feel both blurred and painfully sharp.

His fingers tightened around the wheel. He had nothing to say. Only thoughts—endless, suffocating, unspoken.

Then Chloe’s shrill voice cut through the quiet.

“Stop! Stop the car right now!”

Adrian blinked. Too late. They were heading straight for the concrete wall of the building ahead. He stomped the brakes. The car lurched violently. His forehead slammed against the steering wheel. Chloe flew forward, colliding with the dashboard.

For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

And then… silence.