Chapter 227 It's Fine. I'll Take Action.
It was almost ironic.
Michael had not spoken a single word since stepping into the room. Yet his mere presence—standing quietly at Amelia's side—had been enough to transform her in Robert's eyes from an overlooked, unwanted illegitimate daughter into an honored guest he now seemed determined to treat as if she were priceless.
As Robert leaned in, Amelia's brow tightened ever so slightly, a barely perceptible reaction. The sudden wave of false concern radiating from him was something she found deeply distasteful.
Michael caught it. He saw the selfish calculation flickering behind Robert's smile, and he noticed the subtle shift in Amelia's expression. If even he, an outsider, could feel the hollowness of Robert's supposed affection, how much more sharply must Amelia perceive it?
Without a trace of hesitation, Michael stepped forward, positioning himself between Robert and Amelia. His voice was calm, steady, but carried an edge of authority. "Amelia has a hairline fracture in her leg. She'll need two to three months of rest before she's fully recovered."
Robert stopped short, thwarted by Michael's movement. His eyebrows shot up. "Two or three months? For a hairline fracture? That seems excessive…"
The tone—half skeptical, half dismissive—made Jenny's patience snap. She wondered, not for the first time, if she had been blind the day she chose Robert. Before Michael arrived, Robert had been fawning over the Williams family's sole heir, eager to marry Amelia off. Now, learning she was with Michael, he had flipped to obsequious hospitality, layering on insincere concern for her injury.
Amelia could see through it. Michael, sharp as ever, certainly could. And while the younger generation might not have the standing to make Robert rein himself in, Jenny had no such limitations.
She drew a slow breath and turned toward Quentin. "Mr. Williams, it's getting late. Shall I have someone drive you home?"
Quentin's jaw tightened, his pride stung. As the only heir to the Williams family, he was unaccustomed to being dismissed in someone else's house. His expression darkened, the displeasure written plain across his face. "Ms. Jenkins, there's no need. Our driver is waiting outside. I'll leave on my own."
He shrugged on his coat with a sharp motion and headed for the door.
In truth, Quentin expected his open displeasure to prompt someone in the Martinez family to smooth things over, to at least offer a token word of courtesy. Instead, the path to the door was unobstructed. A servant even gestured politely. "Mr. Williams, this way—the main door is over here."
Quentin's teeth clenched. "I know! I'm not blind!"
His voice carried back into the living room, ringing in every ear.
The moment the door shut, Robert's face twisted in irritation. "How can he shout like that in someone else's home? I've heard Mr. Williams has a temper. Looks like Vaughn needs to keep him in check."
Jenny's sons exchanged looks. Only minutes ago, Robert had been singing Quentin's praises, pushing Amelia toward him. Now he spoke as if Quentin had always been a problem.
Tobias bristled. He had never liked Quentin—the arrogance, the smug superiority—and had even fought him at school once. If Quentin had lingered, Tobias might have been tempted to throw a punch again. Now that Quentin was gone, his frustration shifted squarely onto Robert.
Dinner had been set to be a pleasant family affair. Robert had managed to sour it.
Tobias opened his mouth, ready to let Robert have it, but Jenny's hand pressed gently to his arm. "Leave it. I'll handle it."
"What?" Tobias blinked, caught off guard.
With Quentin gone, Robert's attention swung back to Michael. "Come, sit. What would you like for dinner? I'll have the kitchen prepare it."
Jenny's gaze slid to Robert, her tone smooth. "Michael brought a bottle of wine for you. It's in the trunk of his car. Why don't you go fetch it?"
"A bottle of wine?" Robert's eyes lit up before he forced a mock scold toward Michael. "Michael, you shouldn't have. You're here for dinner, that's enough. I'll send a servant to get it."
In the span of minutes, "Mr. Johnson" had become "Michael"—a transparent attempt to close the distance between them.
Jenny's voice was mild, but her words deliberate. "It's an expensive bottle. You wouldn't want the servants to drop it, would you?"
Robert paused. She was right. Wine from Michael could easily be worth tens, even hundreds of thousands. That wasn't something to entrust to a careless hand.
"Fine, I'll get it myself. It's a thoughtful gift." He turned to Michael with a broad smile. "Wait here. Tonight we'll share a glass."
The wine was indeed expensive—but Michael had already had Eric bring it inside when they arrived. Jenny had seen it herself.
The moment Robert stepped out the door, Jenny lifted her phone and called the gate staff. Her voice was calm, almost casual. "Robert's gone out to the car. Once he's outside, lock the door. Don't let him back in. You can finish for the day."
Tobias nearly laughed aloud. No wonder his mother had told him she would handle it—she was going to lock Robert out entirely.
Robert had left without his phone, without his wallet. The forecast for River City promised dropping temperatures and a chance of rain. Tobias thought, not without satisfaction, that his mother's move was as ruthless as it was effective.
Kevin, still simmering over Robert's treatment of Amelia, offered no defense. "Bring me the menu," he told a servant. "Let Michael and Amelia choose what they'd like."
Chris glanced at the sofa with a scowl. "I'll get the disinfectant. We should clean wherever Quentin sat."
Ryan grinned, draping an arm around Jenny's shoulders. "That's why you're the best."
Zander said nothing. He simply walked to the entryway and shut off the door's access system. Now, even if Robert rang the bell, no one would hear it.
Amelia took in the scene, her eyes lingering on Zander. He was proof that actions spoke louder than words.
The rest of the family carried on as if nothing unusual had happened. Only Michael, ever polite, leaned toward Jenny. "Ms. Jenkins, are you sure this is all right?"
"Don't worry," Jenny replied lightly. "He has plenty of friends. Without his phone or wallet, he'll still find somewhere to go. We'll enjoy our evening."
Her smile warmed. "It's your first formal visit. Tonight I'll cook myself—some of my favorite home recipes."
Tobias's hand shot out to stop her. "No, Mom!"
The memory was fresh—less than three months since her last attempt had ended with the kitchen in flames. "I'm sure Michael already feels your sincerity without you risking another disaster."
He even threw Michael a conspiratorial wink.
Michael's lips curved in amusement. "Yes, Ms. Jenkins, I already do."
Jenny sighed, a touch of theatrical regret. "Then I'll go admire the emerald ring you brought me. First meeting, and you give me something so valuable… I'm almost embarrassed."
As she opened the box with evident delight, Tobias thought, for the first time, that women were truly masters of saying one thing and meaning another.
Across the room, Amelia had drifted into thought. Michael crouched in front of her, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. His voice was low, meant only for her. "What's on your mind?"
Her gaze swept the room—her lover close enough to touch, her brothers occupied with their own tasks, her stepmother trying on a ring, servants moving between kitchen and living room.
"Nothing," she said softly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Just… for the first time, I feel what people mean when they talk about the warmth of home. This feeling… it's happiness."