Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Inside the private study of the Vale Estate, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and quiet tension.

Ziso Vale, the head of House Vale, leaned back in his leather armchair, his eyes fixed on the elderly butler standing across the mahogany desk. As the final words of the report hung in the quiet room, Ziso’s deep brows furrowed tightly.

”You mean to tell me all of our attempts were intercepted?” Ziso’s voice was low, carrying a dangerous edge. ”A simple cleanup job on a trash E-rank hunter, and we failed all 8 times?”

The butler bowed his head slightly, keeping his posture perfectly rigid. ”Yes, My Lord. Most of the individuals we sent vanished without a trace before they could even reach the target, while the two who managed to slip through ended up getting caught by Miss Seria.”

Ziso frowned, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the armrest. ”...Seria?”

He paused, considering the thought before giving a slow, dismissive shake of his head. ”No. She is an exceptionally talented healer, but she doesn’t possess that kind of tactical foresight or the underhanded connections required to intercept our people so cleanly. Someone else must be pulling the strings.”

His thoughts drifted to Seria’s family line and their notable influence, then to the boy, Ryan, whom she had been protecting.

He mentally cataloged the political reach of her family, their current alliances, and their not-so-good relationship with the boy’s family, despite them being relatives.

None of it aligned with this level of swift, covert interference.

If it wasn’t her family, then who was providing the shield? Was there another faction using this incident as leverage against House Vale?

Before Ziso could delve deeper into the puzzle, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open.

Bang-!

The intrusion was loud and entirely lacking in decorum.

Swoosh-!

A boy with sharp features and messy red hair hurried into the room, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

”Father!” Garin gasped out, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself as he thrust a tablet forward. ”Look at this! Right now!”

Ziso’s eyes narrowed at the blatant display of panic. He didn’t look at the tablet immediately; instead, his gaze dragged up to settle on his son’s pale face, a look of hidden disappointment flashing across his features.

”Calm yourself, Garin,” He then commanded, his voice slicing through the boy’s frantic breathing like ice. ”A future heir of House Vale does not barge into a room looking like a cornered beast. Stand up straight.”

Garin swallowed hard, forcing his shoulders back, but his hands were still trembling as he held the screen out. ”Father, please—you don’t understand. Just look at this. It’s everywhere!”

Sensing the genuine terror in his son’s voice, Ziso finally reached out and took the tablet.

The screen was completely flooded with notifications and rapidly climbing view counts, updating by the tens of thousands every second. At the center of the feed was a video player titled simply ”The Kalmira Academy Exam Raid: The Unseen Truth.”

Ziso’s heart shook once as he tapped the glass to play the file.

”...”

The perspective was unmistakable.

It was the raw, unedited feed of an official tactical recorder, capturing the chaotic interior of a dungeon raid. The video quality was crystal clear, capturing every detail of the environment, the panic of the team, and most importantly, Garin’s face.

The audio played softly in the quiet study, but the words were deafening.

The recording captured the exact moment Garin had intentionally thrown Ryan into the Golden Gate, ganging up on the camera holder with his ’teammates’, nearly causing the death of another Awakened, and so on.

Ziso watched the footage to the very end, his face transforming into a mask of absolute stillness. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the armrest stopped completely.

”Dad, you have to stop it! They are slandering me!” Garin demanded, entirely failing to notice how angry and dangerous his father was when he was like this. ”Damn these bastards! I will personally find whoever leaked this and kill them! I’ll wipe out that E-rank trash and his entire—”

Slap!

The sharp crack echoed like a gunshot in the silent study.

The force of the blow spun Garin around, sending him crashing against the side of the heavy mahogany desk.

The tablet slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. He clamped a hand over his rapidly swelling cheek, staring up at his father with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

Ziso hadn’t even raised his voice. He stood over his son, slowly lowering his hand, his expression so completely devoid of warmth that it looked like carved stone.

”Slander?” Ziso whispered. The sheer quietness of his tone made Garin freeze. ”Is the camera lying? Is the official digital signature of the Academy’s tactical recorder a fabrication? Did someone edit your face onto that pathetic trash getting utterly wrecked by a Second Circle nobody?”

”F-Father, I—”

”Silence!”

Ziso commanded.

He didn’t look at his son’s pathetic state. Instead, he stepped right past him, his shoes crunching slightly against the edge of the fallen tablet.

He walked over to the large window overlooking the expansive estate, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The sunlight offered no warmth to the room.

After a long, suffocating moment, he turned his head slightly toward the shadow near the desk.

”Investigate,” he said coldly.

The butler bowed deeply, his expression as unreadable as ever. ”Right away, My Lord.”

With seamless efficiency, the elderly man picked up his pace and quickly took his leave, closing the heavy oak doors with a soft, ominous click.

As soon as the door shut, Garin scrambled to his feet, clutching his bruised cheek. His eyes were bloodshot, frantic strings of desperation overriding his common sense. ”Father, we can still fix this! We have to order the network providers to delete the videos immediately! We can release a statement saying the footage is a complete fabrication! We can say it was generated using advanced illusion magic to ruin our name! The public will believe us if we push hard enough!”

Ziso slowly turned around to face him. He didn’t interrupt. He simply stood there, staring at his son as the silence stretched out between them.

However, with every passing second, the profound disappointment in his chest grew heavier, hardening into a cold knot of disgust.

’...This fool still hasn’t realized the true severity of the situation.’

He was grasping at childish excuses, completely blind to how the world worked.

Ziso closed his eyes briefly, wondering how his lineage had produced someone so narrow-minded.

Had the sheer humiliation of getting utterly defeated by a Second Circle nobody dealt this much damage to the boy’s psyche?

Had it stripped away whatever fragile intelligence he once possessed, leaving behind nothing but a panicked animal?

’...’

Just then, a dark, heavy thought crossed his mind, cutting through the anger.

’...Should I just give up on him?’

If he cut Garin off now, publicly stripped him of his succession rights, and denounced his actions as an individual transgression, House Vale might be able to salvage its institutional standing. They could offer the boy up as a sacrificial lamb to appease the Academy Council and the furious masses.

Ziso quietly shook his head, dismissing the idea just as quickly as it had formed.

It was too late for that. The public wouldn’t stop at the son; their political rivals would ensure the fire burned them as well. Besides, Garin was the only continuation of his direct bloodline.

’If only I had another son...’

The bitter realization left a sour taste in his mouth. He was stuck with the broken tool in front of him.

Before Garin could speak another word, the heavy oak doors clicked open again.

The butler stepped back into the study. The calm, unreadable efficiency he had possessed just moments ago was entirely gone. His posture was rigid, his face pale, and his voice trembled slightly as he spoke.

”My Lord... the Bureau and the High Security Police are at the main gates. They have a formal warrant for Young Master Garin’s immediate detention.”