Rebirth: The Son-in-Law Becomes King

He once called me a son-in-law like a dog.

Now I marry the goddess in a gold suit.

Two-hundred-million wedding blinds the eyes.

Father-in-law cowers, ex-wife grits her teeth.

Three years ago, a joke.

Today, I’m the god of the room.

Forbes tycoons toast me.

Father-in-law tries to flee.

One look from me, his legs go weak.

Enemies smile below as I hold my bride.

This victory? Just the appetizer.

*****

Jack’s POV:

I came back to life at twenty-two, standing in the Rossi family banquet hall with a tray in my hands and a servant’s uniform on my body, knowing exactly how this night used to end and deciding it would not end the same way again.

Three hours earlier, I had woken up in the servant room behind the garage, the same narrow bed, the same leaking ceiling, and the same contract in my memory that said I belonged to the Rossi family for twenty years in exchange for my father’s medical bills.

I am Jack Dawson, the live-in son-in-law everyone calls “that servant,” the man who fixes their cars, trims their garden, pays their credit cards with his dignity, and smiles while being spat on.

In my last life, I endured this for twenty years, watched my wife cheat openly, watched her lover mock me, and died on the street after being thrown away like trash.

This time, I remembered everything.

“Jack,” Samantha Rossi said sharply, her voice cutting through the hall, “why are you standing there like a statue.”

“I’m working,” I replied, keeping my head lowered, because I knew how they liked me best—quiet and cheap.

She walked past me in a red dress that cost more than my entire life, her perfume choking, her hand brushing Vincent Costa’s arm instead of mine.

Vincent laughed softly.

“Careful, darling, your husband might get jealous.”

Samantha smiled, leaned closer to him, and lowered her voice.

“He doesn’t count,” she whispered, not knowing I had already hidden my phone behind the marble flower vase.

Vincent’s voice followed, amused and lazy.

“Still useful though, right?”

“Of course,” Samantha murmured, glass clinking, “he pays my cards, fixes my car, and keeps my father happy.”

Vincent chuckled.

“And your bed?”

Samantha didn’t hesitate.

“He hasn’t touched me in years.”

I stared straight ahead, jaw tight, recording every word.

Vincent leaned closer.

“You sure he won’t snap one day?”

She laughed quietly.

“He’s too pathetic.”

My fingers tightened around the tray.

In my past life, this was where I swallowed everything.

In this life, I counted every breath.

Vincent continued, voice low and teasing.

“I’ll take you to Milan next month.”

Samantha hummed.

“Use his savings.”

“He still has savings?” Vincent mocked.

“He thinks I don’t know,” she said, amused, “but everything he earns is already mine.”

The sound of her laughter burned hotter than the wine later would.

“Jack!” Vincent suddenly called loudly, turning around with a grin.

“Come here.”

I walked over.

The guests stared, curious, already amused.

“Pour me some wine,” Vincent said, arm wrapped around my wife’s waist like a trophy.

I poured.

He tilted the glass deliberately and spilled it over my head.

“Oops,” he said, smiling, “my hand slipped.”

Laughter exploded.

Samantha didn’t stop him.

She watched me like she was watching a trained animal.

In my head, my past self screamed at me to endure.

In my bones, the man who had died laughed.

I wiped my face slowly and looked up.

“Do you enjoy humiliating husbands,” I asked Vincent, “or do you only get hard when someone can’t fight back.”

The room went silent.

Samantha froze.

“Jack, shut up.”

Vincent stared at me, surprised, then laughed.

“You grew a mouth.”

I stepped closer.

“I’ve had one the whole time,” I said, “I just didn’t use it.”

Robert Rossi slammed his cane on the floor.

“Apologize.”

I turned to him.

“You bought me with money,” I said, voice rising, “but you never owned my spine.”

Gasps rippled.

Samantha’s face twisted.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

I laughed.

“You’ve been embarrassing me for three years.”

Vincent scoffed.

“You think you’re someone now?”

I leaned in, smiling like trash that learned how to bite.

“I know exactly who you become,” I said, “and it’s not impressive.”

His smile faltered.

I stepped back and raised my voice.

“Since tonight is about honesty,” I said, “maybe everyone should hear how my wife uses my money to sleep with her childhood friend.”

Samantha’s eyes widened.

“What are you talking about,” she snapped.

I pointed casually toward the balcony.

“Check the flowers,” I said, “they’re very good listeners.”

Security hesitated.

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

I straightened my back.

“I have been your servant,” I said, “your wallet, your joke, and your cover.”

I looked directly at Samantha.

“From tonight on,” I continued, “you’re all my investment.”

Inside my head, plans stacked cleanly: record, divorce, take the hush money, and crush them slowly enough for them to understand.

Vincent stared at me like he was seeing a ghost.

Samantha took a step back.

And as the guests whispered and security finally moved, I smiled for the first time in two lives.

Because this time, I wasn’t here to survive.

I was here to collect.