The Worthless Son-in-law

Ethan's POV

Three years, that's how long it takes for people to stop seeing you as a man. At first, they still pretend. They ask how you're settling in, whether you've found work, whether you're planning for the future,then the questions disappear, the smiles become thinner.The greetings become shorter. Eventually, you stop being a son-in-law, you become a burden. A mistake everyone regrets.

Three years ago, when I married Sophia Harrington, the headlines called it an unexpected union, the business magazines called it a reckless decision, the socialites called it a tragedy. The Harrington family… they never bothered giving it a name. To them, I was simply the man who wasn't supposed to exist, a stain on the family portrait and a parasite. Funny how a single word repeated often enough, can become someone's identity. Not mine but theirs, because while they spent three years convincing themselves I was worthless…I spent three years learning exactly who they were.

I stood in the kitchen, tying the strings of a plain black apron around my waist. The Harrington mansion could easily fit four ordinary houses inside it. Imported marble stretched beneath my feet, chandeliers hung from ceilings so high they almost disappeared into shadow, and every appliance gleamed as though it had never actually been used. Yet here I was, peeling potatoes. Mrs. Dalton, the head housekeeper, looked at me over the rim of her glasses.

"You're cutting them too thick." She said 

I glanced at the chopping board.

"They're potatoes."

"They're for Mr. Harrington."

"As I said, Mrs Dalton" I replied calmly, "they're potatoes."

She sighed dramatically. "Honestly, Mr. Cole, I don't know why you insist on helping in the kitchen."

Because it was quieter than the living room, because servants judged less than relatives, because knives only cut vegetables while people cut deeper, I responded in my mind.

I smiled politely at her statement. "I've finished."

She took the bowl from me without uttering another word. She wasn't rude nor kind, she was smply indifferent. Indifference it's much better because it hurt less than hatred.

I climbed the staircase toward the second floor. The mansion was unusually busy today. Florists hurried through the entrance carrying white orchids. A catering company rolled silver carts toward the ballroom. Staff polished crystal glasses until they reflected the ceiling lights. Tonight was Richard Harrington's sixty-third birthday. Which meant half the city's elite would be attending. Business partners, Politicians, Investors, CEO'S and alot more. People who measured a man's worth by the watch on his wrist and the surname attached to his bank account.

In other words, My favorite kind of evening. I reached the bedroom that I shared with Sophia and knocked gently before opening the door. She stood before the mirror fastening a pair of pearl earrings. The deep emerald dress she wore caught the afternoon light spilling through the windows, making the fabric shimmer with quiet elegance. She didn't notice me immediately. She was reading emails on her tablet. Always working, always carrying the weight of Harrington Group on shoulders that looked far too delicate for it.When she finally glanced up, her expression softened slightly.

"You're back." She said

"I was drafted into potato duty."

That earned the smallest hint of amusement.

"They survived?"

"Barely."

The corner of her mouth lifted, for a second she looked younger and less exhausted. Then her phone buzzed, immediately the smile disappeared just like that.

"Board meeting?" I asked.

She nodded.

"My father thinks I'm not moving quickly enough on the Westbrook acquisition."

"I thought legal hadn't approved it."

"They haven't."

"But apparently facts only matter when they agree with him."

She placed the phone on the dressing table harder than she intended.

I noticed, she noticed that I'd noticed.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"You didn't do anything."

"I know."

Silence settled between us, not uncomfortable, just familiar. People assumed Sophia hated me. The truth was more complicated. She didn't hate me, she simply didn't know what to do with me. Three years ago she'd married a man with no wealth, no influential family, no impressive résumé, no explanation. Sometimes I wondered if she still asked herself why she'd said yes. Sometimes I wondered the same thing.

"You don't have to come tonight," she said without turning around.

"My father will..."

"Insult me?"

She looked down.

"...Yes."

I shrugged.

"He usually does."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No."

"It doesn't."

Another silence, this one heavier. She walked over and adjusted the collar of my white shirt. It was an unconscious gesture. One she'd probably deny if I mentioned it.

"This shirt is getting old."

"It still fits."

"Ethan..."

"I'll buy another one."

"When?"

"Soon."

She studied my face, as though trying to decide whether I believed my own answer. Neither of us said anything. Money had always been the invisible third person in our marriage. Or rather my lack of it. A knock interrupted us. The door opened before either of us answered. Charlotte Harrington leaned against the frame, perfectly dressed despite it only being mid-afternoon.Sophia's younger sister, she's Twenty-six, very beautiful.Sharp-tongued and dangerously observant. Her eyes landed on me first.

"Still wearing that suit?" She asked 

I looked down. "It's clean."

"It belongs in a museum."

Sophia sighed.

"Charlotte."

"What?"

"I'm just asking."

She wasn't. Charlotte never just asked anything. She stepped into the room and folded her arms. "By the way, Dad wants everyone downstairs in an hour." Her gaze drifted back to me.

"Everyone."

She paused deliberately.

"Even you."

I smiled.

"That's thoughtful of him."

She laughed.

"You really don't get sarcasm, do you?"

"I get it."

"I just don't find it very interesting."

For the first time since entering the room, Charlotte looked mildly surprised. It vanished almost instantly.

"Well..." She shrugged.

"Try not to embarrass the family tonight."

Then she walked away. The click of her heels echoed down the hallway. Sophia closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"You've apologized three times today."

"And I'll probably apologize again."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

She looked at me for a long moment. "I just wish..."

"What?"

She hesitated. "I wish things were different."

I smiled. "So do I."

Neither of us explained what we meant. Because they were two completely different wishes. She wanted a family that treated her husband with respect. I wanted a day when I no longer had to pretend their opinions mattered. Downstairs, laughter echoed through the mansion as the first guests began arriving. Luxury cars rolled through the gates one after another. The Harrington estate came alive with wealth, influence, and carefully rehearsed smiles. Tonight, Richard Harrington would stand at the head of the longest dining table in the house, he would raise a glass, celebrate another successful year and sooner or later… He would remember I existed. When he did, everyone else would remember too. I straightened the cuffs of my aging suit and looked at my reflection one last time. The man staring back looked ordinary. That was exactly how I wanted it. I opened the bedroom door. As i walked toward another evening where my seat at the table was guaranteed but my dignity never was.