Once Broken, Now Unstoppable

Chapter 3: Hahaha! He has been cuckold!

Chapter 3

Meanwhile, Thomas who has been dragged back to the living room where Jennifer and the others were, was laying on the floor weakly as insults and laughter keep pouring on him, humiliating him more and more.

"Hahaha! He has been cuckold!"

The room was alive with cruel laughter, a cacophony of disdain that filled the air like the stench of spoiled wine. Hearing those words, Thomas tremble in anger but didn't do anything since he was weak and losing blood from the wound on his head.

"Look at him!" Jennifer sneered, swirling her glass of champagne. "The great son-in-law of the Jaymes family, reduced to this! How pathetic!"

"Here’s a toast to your worthless existence. You’ve done nothing but leech off others!"

A man in a tailored suit stepped forward, his grin filled with disdain. He tipped the glass of wine in his hand, letting the crimson liquid spill over Thomas’s head, the warmth seeping into his hair, "I believe this is the biggest gift you ever received, after all a poor man like you can't afford a $700 wine."

"Hahahaha! Great one, man."

The crowd erupted into more laughter, one woman clutching her stomach as she bent over due to the laughter. "He married rich, thinking he could climb the ladder, but look where that got him—cuckold on and tossed aside like trash he truly is!"

Another man threw a piece of bread at Thomas, the stale crust hitting his cheek. "Eat up! Isn’t this what you’re used to, Thomas the beggar?"

Someone even spit on his shoes, the phlegm glistening under the chandelier light. Another poured beer onto his already soaked shirt, the cold liquid making him shiver.

"Doesn’t even have the dignity to defend himself," Jennifer scoffed, stepping forward to slap his face, leaving a red imprint.

Pa!

"Coward!"

"Why don’t you fight back, huh?" said a voice from the back. "Oh, wait—you’re too weak for that, aren’t you? Just like you couldn’t keep your wife satisfied!"

Hearing those words, Thomas's fists clenched at his sides, but his body refused to respond. He felt like a broken figure, drowning in mockery, yet somewhere deep within, a spark of rage ignited.

Looking at the faces laughing at him, mocking him as if he isn't a human like them, Thomas swore inwardly he will make them pay one day, somehow, anyhow, he will definitely make them pay with their lives, properties or anything of value. He will make them regret ever crossing him, he wouldn't kill them as death is too easy to leave, but will take all their valuables things and let them stay alive to feel pain.

"Oh, poor boy, where are you going? To the street and continue eating trash foods. I pity you." Jennifer called out with mocking voice.

With his fist clench and head dizzy, he ignores the words, storming out of the house, his face a mask of rage. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet night.

Rumble!

Splatter!

Splatter!

Rain began to fall, soft at first, then quickly intensifying into a torrential downpour, a start contrast with the earlier hot sun.

It drenched him within seconds, but he didn’t care. He stood there, frozen, staring blankly into the distance, his hands clenched into fists.

The betrayal, the humiliation, the emptiness—it all crashed over him like a wave. His breathing came in harsh gasps as memories began to surface, unbidden and relentless.

Creak!

The door creaked open behind him, breaking his daze. Jessica stepped out, holding a bag. Without a word, she hurled it at him, the soaked cloth smacking against his chest.

“Take your filthy clothes and get out of my sight!” she spat, her voice venomous. “You’re not even a man—just a worthless leech!”

She laughed mockingly, her disdainful eyes burning into him before she slammed the door shut.

Tom stood there, clutching the bag, his knuckles turning white. He should have felt anger, shame, anything. But instead, he laughed—a low, bitter sound that grew louder until it cut through the pouring rain.

“Grace to grass,” he muttered, shaking his head as rain-soaked clothes clung to his trembling frame as the memories of Jessica's betrayal cut into him deeper than any blade ever could. This was the woman he had left his world for—his family, his fortune, his identity—all for her. And she had thrown him aside like he was nothing.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "So naive," he muttered, his voice barely audible against the pattering rain.

His grandfather's words echoed in his mind, as if taunting him, a ghost of wisdom he had once dismissed.

"Wealth brings love, boy. Love doesn't exist when you're a nobody."

He clenched his fists, the sharp pain in his knuckles grounding him in the present. And yet, a part of him refused to cry. No, he wouldn’t give Jessica—or anyone—the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

Suddenly, his old, trusty phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. He pulled it out with shaking hands, thankfully it wasn't the sort to be easily damaged due to rain.

Who could it possibly be?

The screen flickered in the dim light, displaying an unknown number.

"Hello?" he answered hesitantly, his voice hoarse.

There was silence on the other end for a moment before a familiar, authoritative voice crackled through.

"Hello, grandson."

Thomas froze. His heart stopped, then started racing, each beat pounding in his ears.

"Grandpa?" he whispered, disbelief flooding his tone. This couldn’t be real. His grandfather had cast him out. He hadn’t heard from the man in years.

The voice on the other end chuckled calmly. "Yes, it’s me. I’ve been watching."

Watching?

Thomas swallowed hard, doesn't that means all this humiliation has been seen by his grandparents?

Feeling his grip on the phone tightening as the storm around him seemed to pour heavier.

"I’ve had my men observe you and your wife, Jessica. I wanted to see if she truly loved you, even without your wealth. If she had passed my test, I would’ve brought you both back."

Thomas's throat tightened, the sharp sting of humiliation burning behind his eyes. His mind reeled, trying to process the weight of his grandfather’s words.

"But, alas," the voice continued, calm and cutting, "I was right, wasn’t I? Love without wealth is just a fool’s dream."

Thomas felt a lump form in his throat. The truth in his grandfather's words struck him harder than Jessica's betrayal. He had been a fool. A blind, idealistic fool.

"Do you now believe me, Thomas?" the old man pressed, his tone softening, almost pitying.

Thomas closed his eyes, the rain dripping from his lashes as he exhaled shakily. "Yes, Grandpa," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "You were right."

The voice on the other end hummed in satisfaction. "Good. Now, listen carefully."

Thomas straightened, his heart pounding against his ribs as the tone shifted to something strict.

"You can come back to the family."

Thomas’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "What…?"

"Your company will be returned to you," the old man continued, unfazed. "Your bank accounts will be unfrozen. And as a reward for finally seeing reason, I will deposit 400 hundred billion dollars into your account—on top of the fifty billion you once had."

The phone slipped slightly in Thomas's grasp, his mind struggling to keep up.

Four hundred billion dollars? His chest tightened. The rain was suddenly deafening, drowning out the sound of his own breath.

"I trust," his grandfather added, his voice taking on a finality that sent a chill down Thomas's spine, "that you won’t squander this second chance. Do not disappoint me again, grandson."

And just like that, the line went dead.

Thomas stared at the phone, his pulse hammering in his ears. The rain continued to fall, soaking him to the bone as the weight of his grandfather’s words settled over him.

The heir to the Tudor legacy was back.