The Trashy Heir's Reason for Enduring the Divorce
The reason the divorce-obsessed trash Cha Do-yeon endured his split from An Ha-yul is simple. Even from his advantageous position as the reader, he didn't just fail to become successor—he inherited the smallest share of his father's legacy through the will. The affiliate he got from the group, valued in cash terms, easily topped 500 billion won, a proper chaebol-level sum. But compared to his sisters and mother, who snagged prime affiliates like the crown jewels, it was chump change—like blood from a leech's foot.
This showed just how much distrust and cold-shouldering his father, Cha Seong-taek—the man who led the group with sheer charisma—had for this wastrel son. That's why he endured the divorce. Abandoned by his family, with his debauched lifestyle burning through billions a day, his coffers were draining fast. Even a trash like him must've started coming to his senses around the time I possessed him—records show he was checking his bank balance obsessively. In short, as Cha Do-yeon's cash flow tightened, he dragged out the divorce hoping to squeeze something out of An Ha-yul. Stalling on purpose, knowing a court battle would drag on and get messy, all to raid his loveless wife's wallet. A thug to the bone.
I might've been able to wrench some money out if I'd dug in my heels, but I had no interest in living that pathetically. My real targets lay elsewhere from the start.
"Kkuuung!"
A big, childish sniffle. He even puts on this pathetic act of dabbing at tears, as if saying the Best Actor award is mine. Not really crying, but faking a little sniffle as he slowly lifts his face, composing himself.
"Sorry. To show such a pathetic sight in front of you, Mother-in-Law..."
"No, no. I've gotten to see your human side again this time, honey."
Completely taken in by the pitiful act—starting to mean it now—Mother-in-Law overlaps her hand on mine without hesitation, wrapping it warmly. The world's gentlest touch envelops me tenderly.
"You're... truly kind-hearted, Mother-in-Law."
"No, actually... I've heard and said plenty of trash-talk about you behind your back because of my daughter."
"Ah..."
Well... you married off your precious girl to a wastrel, so yeah.
"But seeing you now, it's different. I've heard rumors lately that you've changed, and it looks like they're true."
Honest feelings first, then smothered in kindness. Warm words exchanged like grooming. As she rubs my back and pulls me into another hug for comfort, my blood surges.
Whew... my heart's melting. Fuck, I wanna shake my hips and go at it.
The ultimate comfort. All an act beneath a sheep's mask, yet it warms me deep inside, melting away tension. Mother-in-Law's charm matches her huge breasts—a heart as warm. How does she stay so firm and perky at her age? Her kindness proves the saying: no woman with good tits is ever bad news.
And naturally, those supporting hips and thighs. Even the slight belly pooch from age drives me wild. Topped off with her neat bob haircut—always perfectly maintained, pearl earrings completing the elegant matron look. More feminine than her daughter who stormed out, and it ruthlessly stirs a man's heart.
After soaking up the comfort, we slowly pick up our chopsticks. Picking at dishes in this upscale Chinese restaurant, we chat not as in-laws tied by marriage, but as people.
"So, planning to get your act together and run the company from now on?"
"Yeah, gotta make do with what I've got."
"What part of Hwaryeong are you handling again, honey?"
"The card company side. Plus a little securities firm I spun off... both fee-based businesses in the end. Haha."
"Right, your father's legacy—gotta protect what you can."
Even Mother-in-Law, now looking more sympathetic, had known all along. In a behemoth devouring everything from appliances to global semis, Cha Do-yeon got stuck with just one card affiliate. A reminder that his childhood screw-up tendencies got him discarded as a son.
Rock bottom. But from the bottom, there's only up.
So I flash a bright smile and declare:
"Yeah, planning to grow it bigger now."
"What makes you so confident...?"
"Business matters, hard to get specific here, but I'm set to give it a real shot."
Then I clear my throat sternly, mischief in my eyes as I toss in a joke.
"If this venture succeeds, I'll get you a brand-new bag to match your beauty, Mother-in-Law."
The luxury bag on the table—top-tier, but worn for a conglomerate wife. A model that holds value over time, yet she's carried the same white one in every public photo. Frugal, or proof her husband's loving gifts dried up. I poke right there.
"Oh my, such a joker."
She covers her mouth like it's absurd, waving her free hand. Still, just hearing "gift from a young man" flushes her cheeks youthfully. She elegantly picks a side dish, careful not to spill, lost in thought. Savors it gracefully, then decides—declares it.
"Alright, if you've endured such lonely heartache... I'll make time once a month."
"...! Th-thank you! Mother-in-Law!"
Mother-in-Law, you bit the hook!
I stand and bow deeply; she flusters, waving it off uncomfortably.
"E-enough! Not Mother-in-Law anymore anyway. ...Ah! Guess I should stop calling you 'honey' too..."
No longer in-laws. So what now for names?
"Great, then—So I-seol-ssi?"
"!"
Clink! Calling her full name cautiously, she sets down her utensils, startling like a carp leaping. Face screaming "How do you remember?"—her own name feels foreign. Long known as "someone's mom," it's been ages since anyone used it, huge reaction. Devoted homemaker, more used to "Chairman's wife," "madam," "sister-in-law," "wifey."
Her flushed face is pure schoolgirl. Cooling off, fanning like a girl half her age.
"Awkward, huh? Ahaha..."
"You still look so young—should I call you noona?"
"Honey!"
Shouting to cut the jokes from embarrassment, then: "Ah, no... Cha Do-yeon-ssi? Ah... maybe stick with 'honey.' Ahaha."
Mother-in-Law—no, So I-seol—laughs shyly throughout, unadjusted. It feels girlish, younger than me, utterly lovable. That sweet face under the bob confirms my pull isn't mere impulse.
We chat more, bonding. After ages of talk, I escort her to the parking lot, to her waiting domestic luxury sedan with driver.
"Next time, somewhere cozier and nicer."
"Today was plenty nice. Now head in—you too..."
She hesitates, then: "Ho... honey! Ahaha... this feels right♡"
Haa... melting, totally melting.
Mother-in-Law's adorably overt. She boards shyly smiling to the end. I bow low one last time, treating her with utmost respect.
"Ahh... neck's killing me."
Stiff from all the bowing, I roll it out.
Whew... good. Uncomfortable marriage done, regular meets with Mother-in-Law set... one step forward.
Wife worries gone, bond with Mother-in-Law inching—just a bit—closer. No rushing to ruin this spark; nurture it slowly.
* * *
Honk honk! Following the horn blasts post-Mother-in-Law send-off, I find my car in the lot. Sauntering over, I slide into the familiar back seat. U Mi-ae turns, bowing her head.
"Haa... you really waited the whole time?"
"Of course, Young Master."
Dinner alone with Mother-in-Law to farewell took about three hours. We yapped forever at the table, but she appears right on cue once I'm done. U Mi-ae's competent. Too competent for a wastrel like him.
"Where to, then?"
"...Tired today—straight home."
"Yes, Young Master."
Familiar order, executed promptly. Tires screeching on asphalt as we exit the lot, I add:
"And tomorrow, summon all the key execs—set it up."
"...? Heading to the office?"
"Yeah, shareholders' meeting's over—no more bullshit. Stock's in freefall on my trash rep; time to end the panic."
"I'll notify via your executive secretary. President coming in."
"Nah, fire that secretary. Bypass her—tell them direct."
"Pardon?"
I brush off her surprise, pull out my smartphone, open the stock app, check a few tickers. Grinning at the perfect nosedive:
"Plummeted on wastrel name-value—now dance the knife-edge like a proper wastrel."