Chapter 49 Chapter 49
For a brief moment, the room went silent again.
Then one by one, heads began to nod.
“Yes,” Deborah said first. “That is right.”
Mr. Bushman’s face lit up immediately.
“That is a very good idea,” he said. “Very good. In fact, that may be the best suggestion yet.”
Vincent’s mother also nodded with visible approval.
“She is absolutely right,” she said. “That kind of gift would show class. It would show that we came with intention.”
Even Vincent looked impressed.
The idea fit perfectly refined, thoughtful, and strategic.
“You are very, very smart,” he said to Vincent’s wife. “Honestly, I love that. You always know how to think ahead.”
That only made the atmosphere warmer around her.
There was no missing it now. Her place in the family was becoming stronger by the day. Her words were being taken seriously. Her suggestions were being praised. Her presence was being valued in a way that was impossible to ignore.
And Jessica noticed every bit of it.
She stood there listening to all of them, her face carefully arranged, but inwardly she was burning.
The bitterness in her chest deepened with every approving word directed at Vincent’s wife. To everyone else, this was just a practical conversation about a gift. But to Jessica, it was something else entirely a comparison.
And she hated comparisons.
Because in her mind, they were all now measuring this woman against Megan.
And Megan, whether absent or present, remained the standard Jessica was determined to tear down.
Her thoughts darkened rapidly.
To her, Vincent’s wife was everything Megan was not measured, strategic, useful, supportive, the kind of woman who understood how to build rather than disrupt.
And Megan? Jessica’s jaw tightened.
In her mind, Megan was nothing but trouble. A shameless opportunist. Someone who had inserted herself where she did not belong. Someone whose presence threatened to ruin not just Vincent’s future, but the family’s stability as a whole.
By the time the others were still discussing where to find the right antique, Jessica had already retreated into her own resentment.
Then, unable to contain herself, she muttered bitterly, “Now you see the difference. The difference between someone who is genuinely smart and someone who actually deserves what she is getting… and an opportunist someone who doesn’t care what she does, but only wants to snatch what she doesn’t deserve. This is the clear difference between Megan and Tasha .”
At that moment, Vincent cleared his throat softly, his expression full of relief and gratitude as he turned to Tasha.
“Tasha,” he said earnestly, “thank you so much. Thank you for really coming through for us especially for me—at this crucial moment, at this delicate time in my life. You truly stepped in for me, and I’m grateful for the assistance, for the effort, for everything.”
He shook his head slightly, as though even now he still found it hard to believe how smoothly things had come together.
“I honestly wasn’t expecting all this,” he continued. “But you’ve made everything feel so easy, so seamless. And I’m really, very grateful. Thank you so much.”
Tasha looked at him, and a small smile spread across her face.
There was calm confidence in that smile, but also a sort of warmth that made her look even more assured in herself.
“Well,” she said lightly, “you really shouldn’t be thanking me. Not at all.”
She adjusted her posture and added, “Like I told you before, and like I’ve always said—this is what I should be doing.”
Her tone carried a quiet certainty, the kind that made it seem as if helping them was the most natural thing in the world.
Then she glanced ahead and said, “For now, let’s just get there immediately. We shouldn’t keep my uncle waiting.”
At once, everyone nodded, no one wanted to waste any more time.
There was too much expectation tied to this meeting, too much hope hanging on whatever General Zakariah’s reception of them would be. If things went well, it could change the direction of Vincent’s entire situation. And every one of them knew it.
So without further delay, they all moved toward the cars.
Vincent’s father, his mother, and Jessica entered one vehicle together, while Vincent and Tasha got into the other. Doors shut. Engines came alive. And within moments, the two cars pulled away and drove off.
The ride passed under a cloud of restrained anticipation.
No one was fully relaxed.
Even in the separate vehicles, each person was occupied with their own thoughts. Mr. Bushman sat upright, already imagining what kind of impression they needed to make. Mrs. Bushman kept adjusting herself from time to time, wanting to appear presentable enough for the caliber of person they were about to meet. Jessica, on the other hand, was unusually observant, glancing out the window while silently measuring everything about the day what it meant, what it could lead to, and what it would prove.
In Vincent and Tasha’s car, the atmosphere was quieter.
Vincent remained thoughtful, his gratitude to Tasha still lingering in his expression. Tasha, meanwhile, sat with the poise of someone entirely familiar with elite spaces. She did not look nervous. If anything, she looked composed, as though this sort of outing was normal to her.
Not long after, they arrived at the avenue.
The moment the cars slowed and the place came into view, everyone immediately understood they had entered a completely different level of luxury.
Everything Luxury, that was the name of the avenue.
And the name fit perfectly.
Everything about the place lived up to it.
The entrance alone was enough to command attention. The roads were smooth and spotless, lined with carefully designed landscape features and decorative lighting that looked expensive even in daylight. Every structure in sight was grand, polished, and built with the kind of elegance that was not meant for ordinary people. It was the sort of place that did not just display wealth it assumed it.
The family recognized it at once.
Even if they had never personally hosted anything there, they had all heard of it.
If anyone wanted to organize an event for the highest class of society for politicians, industrialists, military figures, foreign investors, celebrities, and old-money families this was the kind of avenue chosen for it.
It was the address of status.
The kind of place where invitations mattered.
The kind of place where presence alone meant something.
Without anyone needing to explain it, they all knew immediately that this was not just some ordinary venue.
This was a very high-end destination.