My Homeless Billionaire-Husband - Chapter #1 - Free To Read

The courtroom was suffocating, packed wall to wall with reporters, curious onlookers, and Morrison’s sleek legal team. The scent of polished wood mixed with sweat as the judge’s voice echoed through the chamber.

“Not guilty.”

Brian Marshall’s hands clenched the barrier in front of him, his knuckles white against the dark oak. His chest tightened, a slow burn rising up his throat. Across the room, James Morrison turned, flashing a smirk as he adjusted his cufflinks. The air felt thinner, as if the world itself were mocking Brian with Morrison’s casual, victorious swagger.

The noise in the room swelled—mutters, gasps, the clicking of cameras—but Brian heard none of it. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the night that had shattered his world.

Morrison wasn’t just a businessman. On the surface, he was a pillar of Chicago society—a philanthropist, a devoted family man, and the head of a thriving logistics empire. But beneath the charming public facade lurked a ruthless criminal mastermind. Drugs, weapons, human trafficking—Morrison’s empire was built on blood, lies, and a network of loyalists who would do anything to protect him. His money bought silence, and his charm disarmed skeptics. He wasn’t just dangerous; he was untouchable.

Brian had learned all this the hard way.

Almost half a year ago, the laugh of his wife Emily had echoed through their penthouse just hours before she was taken from him. She was at the kitchen counter, scrolling through files on her tablet, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “Morrison is using your shipping routes to move more than just medical supplies. He’s running drugs, Brian. I can prove it.”

Brian leaned over her shoulder, scanning the documents. Shipment manifests didn’t match delivery reports. Medical equipment listed in orders had no real recipients. Emily had uncovered everything: names, dates, locations. It was damning.

“This is... massive,” Brian muttered. “We need to take this to the authorities.”

Emily’s eyes glinted with determination. “I’m not waiting. Morrison has hurt too many people. If I can stop him, I have to.”

That was Emily—fearless, selfless to a fault. But Morrison didn’t play fair. He had eyes everywhere, and when Emily started asking questions, it didn’t take long for word to reach him.

Brian came home late that night. The penthouse was quiet, too quiet. He called out, but there was no response. His stomach knotted as he stepped further inside. The scent of roses from the vase Emily loved mingled with something metallic.

Then he saw her.

Emily lay sprawled on the living room floor, her eyes wide and unseeing, blood pooling beneath her. A broken vase lay nearby, shards glinting under the dim light. For a moment, Brian froze, his mind refusing to process the scene. Then he dropped to his knees, his shaking hands cradling her lifeless body.

The police called it a robbery gone wrong. Jewelry was missing. The locks had been forced. But Brian knew better. Emily’s tablet, the one with all the evidence, was gone. The security cameras in the building had mysteriously stopped working hours before her death.

It was a hit, precise and calculated. Morrison’s message was clear: he could reach anyone, anywhere. And he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.

Now, in the crowded courtroom, Morrison strolled out the door, untouchable. Witnesses had recanted. Key evidence had vanished. The system had failed, but Brian wouldn’t.

Brian’s heart pounded as he stared after the man who had stolen everything from him. Morrison’s smug grin burned into his mind, fueling a fire he couldn’t extinguish.

Hours later, Brian stood in his penthouse office, the city’s skyline glittering below him. The view used to inspire him, remind him of what he’d built, but tonight, it only reflected his failure. Morrison’s face lingered in his mind, taunting him, as he poured whiskey into a crystal glass and stared at Emily’s photo on his desk. Her smile was bright, full of life. She deserved justice, not this mockery of it.

Behind him, the door opened softly. Kathrine entered, her stride purposeful. She was his younger sister but had always carried herself like the elder—poised, sharp-eyed, and efficient. The one person he could trust.

“They didn’t waste time gloating,” she said, dropping a tablet on his desk. Headlines screamed Morrison’s victory, painting him as a hero wrongfully accused. “What now?”

Brian’s jaw tightened as he took a slow sip, then set the glass down with a deliberate thud. “Morrison is protected from every angle—money, power, people in his pocket. Taking him to court again would be a waste of time.”

Kathrine crossed her arms. “So what’s the plan? And don’t say you’re letting this go.”

He turned to face her, his voice calm but cold. “I’m not letting anything go. But I can’t do this as Brian Marshall.”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Brian moved to the corner of the office, opening a sleek cabinet. Inside were documents, passports, cash—tools for a life lived in shadows. “If I keep being the man he knows, I’ll never get close enough. Morrison has eyes on me, probably ears too. He’ll expect retaliation from the billionaire he humiliated.”

He looked at her, a grim determination in his eyes. “But he won’t see me coming if I’m someone else.”

Kathrine’s breath hitched as she processed his words. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Brian reached for a folder labeled “G. McAllister.” Inside were details of the man he would become: a once-successful business consultant who had lost everything in the market crash. Bankrupt, forgotten, homeless.

“I’ve already been mapping Morrison’s operations,” Brian explained. “City Central Hospital is a key hub for his medical supply shipments. If I position myself there, I can monitor who comes and goes, follow the money, connect the dots.”

“Connect the dots,” Kathrine repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “And then what? You’re going to take him down alone? You don’t know how far this goes.”

“I know enough,” he said sharply. “Morrison killed my wife. If I don’t act, who will?”

Her shoulders slumped, frustration giving way to reluctant understanding. “What do you need from me?”

Brian softened, grateful for her unwavering loyalty. “You’re the only person I trust to keep Marshall Technologies running. Transfer my shares into the trust, make it airtight. If anyone asks, I’m taking time to grieve. They don’t need to know I’ve disappeared.”

Kathrine hesitated. “And if this doesn’t work?”

“It has to.”

Weeks later, tech billionaire Brian Marshall was gone.

In his place was a Greg McAllister, scruffy man in threadbare clothes with an old duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His new life began near City Central Hospital, where the homeless gathered in clusters. No one asked questions if you kept your head down.

The first few days were the hardest. He missed simple comforts—hot showers, decent food—but his resolve never wavered. He watched from the edges, observing the hospital’s daily rhythms. Delivery trucks came and went at odd hours, some unloading legitimate supplies, others making quick, suspicious stops before disappearing into the night.

Each interaction, no matter how small, was a piece of the puzzle. He lingered near entrances, nursing cups of coffee and muttering about his “glory days” to anyone who’d listen. Most ignored him, but that was the point. Morrison’s men wouldn’t see him as a threat, and that made him dangerous.

But Brian wasn’t just gathering intel. He was hunting.

Closer to justice.

Closer to revenge.