The Billionaire Son-in-Law's Revenge

They used to say we were a match made in heaven. The scenery remains, but the people have changed beyond recognition. Amelia ignored the murmurs, her gaze fixing coldly on the guest who'd dared whisper "golden couple." "Golden couple?" She scoffed, swirling her wine. "He's nothing but a pretty face living off my charity. There's nothing golden about a man who needs a woman to survive." Her words hit the room like a grenade. The silence that followed was deafening. I stood nearby, gripping my glass. I'd braced myself for her disdain, yet the sting of public humiliation still pierced deep. "Nonsense!" A cane cracked against the marble floor. Peter glared at his granddaughter. "Amelia, you're drunk," the old man barked. "Watch your tongue." One sentence—and her cruelty became nothing more than alcohol-induced rambling. A convenient excuse to save face. I didn't demand justice. Didn't ask Peter to defend my honor. I simply lowered my gaze and stepped back into the shadows. My silence confused the guests. They expected the "soft rice king" to grovel or argue. They didn't understand—not until the banquet ended and Peter slid a thick folder across his mahogany desk. "Amelia was out of line," he said gruffly. "Consider this compensation. Repayment for your sacrifice ten years ago." I looked down. A transfer contract. Assets worth billions. Ten years ago, the Gilberts had been on the brink of ruin. As the sole heir to Matthews Corp, I'd brought a massive dowry and married in to save them. My reward? On our wedding night, I was kidnapped by Amelia's enemies. For three days, I lived in hell. When they released me, they dumped my broken body on the busiest street in the city. My lower body had suffered catastrophic injuries. I was alive—but no longer whole. I remembered Amelia kneeling before me in the hospital, her forehead bloody from kowtowing on the hard floor. "I will avenge you," she'd sworn, tears streaming. "I'll wipe away this humiliation. My life is yours, Samuel." But promises are cheap. She couldn't die for me, and eventually, she stopped living for me too. In the beginning, she was fueled by rage. She used my capital to rebuild her empire, sent my tormentors to prison, scrubbed those humiliating photos from the internet. She forbade anyone in the city from speaking of that night. To disobey was to make an enemy of the entire Gilbert family. But time erodes gratitude. I don't know when the rumors started again—whispers through the elite circles, mocking her to her face. Asking if she was satisfied with a husband who was... incomplete. Whatever protective fire she once held had long since burned out. Just recently, I'd received news from a specialist—a slim chance of sperm extraction that could allow us to conceive. I'd rushed home, eager to share the news. She'd wanted a child for years. I reached for her office door when I heard her voice inside. "A useless man is a useless man. Why pretend otherwise?" She didn't defend me. Didn't deny the insult. She sounded annoyed, as if my existence was a stain on her perfect reputation. The blood drained from my face. Darkness swam across my vision. I collapsed right there in the hallway. When I woke, I was in a hospital bed. Amelia stood nearby, speaking to the attending physician. Damien Blackwood. The moment he saw Amelia, he gasped, covering his mouth. "Senior Amelia? Is that really you?" His eyes reddened instantly—a masterclass in performance. "I need to apologize. My sister was the one who hurt your family back then. She paid with prison, but the guilt still haunts me." I looked at Amelia, expecting her to recoil. The Blackwoods were connected to the people who'd destroyed my life. Instead, she smiled. "It's fine, Damien. That's all in the past. You were just a child then. It has nothing to do with you." Cold dread settled in my stomach. Before I could speak, Amelia ushered me into the examination room. The checkup was routine—or so I thought. I'd just finished dressing behind the curtain when I heard Damien's voice, low and troubled. "Amelia... this is difficult to say." "What is it?" "Your husband." He sighed, dripping faux sympathy. "Severe genital warts. And based on initial tests—likely a dozen other venereal diseases." A pause. "Impossible," Amelia said, though her voice wavered. "We've been married ten years. He's... docile. He's never been with anyone but me." "That's not necessarily true, Senior," Damien whispered, poison in every word. "Men have their ways. Unless you installed surveillance on him twenty-four hours a day—how can you be sure he hasn't been seeking comfort elsewhere?"

My expression turned glacial. "On what basis are you making these claims?" Damien immediately adopted the look of a wounded animal, turning wide, innocent eyes toward Amelia. "I'm a doctor, Mr. Gilbert. No conflict of interest here. My diagnosis is based purely on your physical condition. Why would I frame you?" My gaze dropped to the ID badge clipped to his chest. Damien Blackwood. The name struck like a physical blow. Memories of the people who destroyed me ten years ago came flooding back. The ringleader had been Serena Blackwood. Back then, her younger brother would have been just a teenager—too young to be implicated. But Amelia had told me she'd exiled the families of the main culprits. She swore they were sent abroad, never to return. So why was a Blackwood standing in a Harbor City hospital? I looked at Amelia, silently demanding an explanation. She simply offered a breezy smile and pulled me into a hug. "No matter what illness you have, you're the only husband for me." Ignoring the shock in my eyes, she steered me toward the exit. "He's just a boy, Samuel. Young and inexperienced. If he made a mistake, it's nothing serious." Something inside me shattered. The love I held for Amelia cooled instantly. The possessiveness that once burned so fiercely simply evaporated. "Fine," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. From that day on, Amelia paraded Damien at every major social event. She handed him control over the company's medical device projects—our most critical sector. He hemorrhaged money. Losses climbed into the hundreds of millions. Amelia remained unbothered. "A handsome smile is a luxury I can afford," she said when the financial reports came in. "He's young. It's normal to make mistakes while learning." But I dug deeper. The "lost" funds hadn't vanished—they'd been funneled into an offshore account belonging to Blackwood Industries. Damien was no innocent boy. Originally, I hadn't planned to engage with him. But now he'd crossed a line. He was touching my assets. Our targets aligned. He wanted to destroy the Gilberts; I wanted to control them. I couldn't let him stay. For the first time, I took the initiative to clean up Amelia's mess. She didn't find this suspicious. She found my submission useful. "It looks like I really spoiled you before," she purred, leaning over to kiss the tip of my nose. "I like this version. Obedient. Sensible." She pulled back, eyes gleaming with cruel pity. "I hope you stay this way. You lost your dignity as a man ten years ago. But I still let you marry in. I've endured a decade. I think I've been generous." She pulled out a watch box. Inside sat a sea-blue aquamarine wristwatch. "Take it. I bought it for Damien, but the color's too old-fashioned for him. Suits your age better." I knew exactly what she was saying. I was old. Past my prime. Only fit for scraps. But I just smiled and fastened the watch to my wrist. "As long as you're happy." The old me would have tossed and turned for nights, wondering if I was too old for her. Now? I only cared about one thing: Does this watch sell for ten million, or twenty? Only a fool holds onto a wife whose heart has already wandered. I could do without Amelia Gilbert. But I could not do without Gilbert Corp. This empire was built by stepping on the corpse of the Cheng family. Time to take it back. Clutching the ten-billion-dollar contract Peter had given me, I walked to the chairman's office and knocked. I entered, expression solemn. "Grandpa. Since I married into the Gilbert family, I'm a Gilbert. This contract was meant as compensation for the Cheng family, but I don't need it."

Peter's eyes widened, genuine shock cutting through his usual stoicism. He hadn't expected me to reject the contract outright. "The Matthews family has been in decline for years," he said slowly, studying my face. "Their market value dropped to mere tens of billions last year. Are you certain you don't want this opportunity?" Despite my years married to Amelia, Peter had never truly viewed me as a Gilbert. In his eyes, I remained a risk—someone likely to funnel resources back to my own bloodline at the first opportunity. I held his gaze, keeping my expression earnest. "To say I'm not tempted would be a lie," I admitted. "But as I said, I married into the Gilbert family. I am a Gilbert now. How could I take resources meant for this company and use them to subsidize the Matthews? I'm not one of those short-sighted fools who bite the hand that feeds them." Appreciation flickered through Peter's eyes. The tension in his shoulders eased. "Very well," he said, his tone warming. "Since my grandson-in-law has such integrity, I will give you something else." He paused, expression turning serious. "As a member of this family, you need a stake in the company. There's a board meeting at month's end. Prepare yourself. When the time comes, I will cast my vote for you." I bowed my head slightly—neither servile nor arrogant. "I won't let you down." He reached out and patted my shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "Support Amelia well. She may be confused right now, but deep down, she still has you in her heart." Despite everything Amelia had done, she remained the sole heir to the Gilbert dynasty. Peter had no choice but to hope. I nodded obediently, masking the cold calculation in my eyes. "Amelia is my wife. Supporting her is my duty." Inheriting everything she owns... that is also my duty. The moment the banquet concluded and guests dispersed, the facade crumbled. Smack! The sharp crack echoed in the empty hallway. My head snapped to the side, cheek stinging with sudden heat. Amelia stood before me, face twisted in a scowl. "You really are good at pretending, aren't you?" she hissed. I touched my cheek, feigning surprise. "What?" She let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, husband. Did you think playing the 'magnanimous saint' would change my mind?" Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't make a scene today, so I thought you'd changed. I didn't expect your methods to be even dirtier than before." I remained silent, knowing exactly where this was going. Amelia shoved her phone in my face—a call log showing a recent conversation with her grandfather. "I brought Damien to the banquet, and immediately after, Grandpa called to scream at me. He even snatched the contract from my hands and gave it to you." She glared, voice dripping venom. "Do you dare tell me this wasn't your doing?" So she'd misunderstood again. As always. "Think whatever you want," I said flatly. Amelia froze. The old Samuel would have panicked—terrified of being misunderstood, spending hours begging her to listen. She searched my face for the desperation that wasn't there. When she didn't find it, she scoffed. "Since you refuse to be obedient, don't blame me for embarrassing you." I assumed she meant another shopping spree with Damien to spite me. I was wrong. On the day of the board meeting, Damien swaggered into the conference room like he owned the place. He walked past me, smug grin plastered on his face, and sat directly beside Amelia. "I've resigned from the hospital," he announced, voice loud enough for the room. "President Gilbert recommended me for a seat on the board. From now on, we're colleagues." The voting commenced. My nomination passed unanimously. Peter's influence was absolute. Damien barely scraped by. Only Amelia's faction voted for him. He didn't seem to care about the slim margin. Entry was victory regardless of numbers. He leaned over, whispering loud enough for me to hear: "It took you ten years to get a seat on the board. I did it in half a month. The winner isn't decided yet, Samuel." At the head of the table, Peter's expression turned thunderous. The Gilbert Corp board was not a place for stray dogs. Worse, Damien was a Blackwood—a relative of the very people who had nearly destroyed the Gilbert family ten years ago. Amelia wasn't just young; she was blind. She caught my eye and raised a brow. A silent challenge: This is the price of your disobedience. I held her gaze, expression unreadable. As long as your little pet stays obedient, that's fine by me. Walking out of the office, Amelia stopped me with a patronizing pat on my shoulder. "I'm flying to the Middle East tomorrow," she said breezily. "You and Damien need to get along. Remember to guide him. Show him the ropes." I lowered my eyes to hide the darkness swirling within. Around us, the other directors exchanged awkward glances. The absurdity was palpable—a wife ordering her husband to mentor her lover. A humiliation unheard of in our circle. "Understood," I said quietly. Peter Gilbert's face darkened, humiliation tight in his jaw. He leaned on his cane, glaring at his granddaughter. Amelia remained unfazed. She leaned close, her whisper venomous against my ear. "Grandpa is old. He can't protect you forever. Don't try anything." My affection for her had withered years ago. Her threats stirred nothing. I kept my expression neutral. "Fine. I won't make things difficult for Damien. I'll even ensure he's taken care of." The moment Amelia left the building, Damien began his purge. Under the guise of "cost-cutting," he targeted the core management team—veterans who had built this company. He called them "idlers" who were just muddling through. When these loyal employees came begging for intervention, I put on my mask of helplessness. "It's Amelia's direct order," I sighed. "I can't interfere. I may be her husband, but I'm still an outsider here." To prove it, I called Amelia on speakerphone in front of them. "Damien fired the company's core personnel," I said. "Now—" "If he wants to fire them, let him." Her voice cut sharp. "Those leeches are useless anyway. Stop staring at Damien all day and worry about yourself." The call ended. I shook my head at the devastated employees. "You heard her." In three days, Gilbert Corp's heart was ripped out. Seventy to eighty percent of core staff departed. Panic spread to small shareholders, who dumped their stock in a frenzy. Perfect. My mother hired every dismissed employee at high salaries. Simultaneously, she acquired the shares panicked investors sold. Those scattered shares amounted to ten percent. Combined with the twenty percent I received when I married in, I was now the largest single shareholder. Moments after I signed the custodianship agreement with my mother, the office door swung open. Damien barged in. "Samuel, you're fired." I raised an eyebrow, looking past him to Amelia. Her expression was cold. "I told you to behave," she said. "But you insisted on making things difficult for Damien."