Chapter 50
Marlowe's seemingly considerate words, which actually concealed sharp barbs, plunged the atmosphere at the dinner table—which had just barely warmed up—back to freezing point.
She belittled me as completely worthless while praising Amelia as a thoughtful and understanding girl. Her intentions were truly vicious.
I lowered my eyes to look at the piece of fish in my bowl that had been meticulously deboned, feeling nothing but coldness in my heart.
These petty tricks that couldn't be brought into the open—I'd long grown used to them, too lazy to even let them stir the slightest ripple in me.
However, Benjamin beside me clearly didn't have my patience.
"Mrs. White is overthinking." Benjamin's voice rang out, not loud, but carrying an undeniable coldness. He set down his fork and looked up at Marlowe. Those deep eyes no longer held any of their earlier warmth, only the kind of sharp edge that made people shudder in the business world.
"I know very well what kind of person Ophelia is, and it's precisely because I know that I've chosen her." Each word was clear and forceful. "She doesn't need to be lively and outgoing, and she doesn't need to please anyone. She just needs to be herself. I'll handle everything else for her."
He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping like a blade across Marlowe and Amelia's faces, which had instantly frozen, his lips curving into a cold arc.
"As for lessons about how to conduct oneself, I think the Wilson family's traditions haven't fallen to the point where we need outsiders to instruct our own grandson's wife." His tone shifted as he looked at Preston, his voice calm but full of pressure. "This dinner has given me a new understanding of the White family's way of 'caring.' If Ophelia has to constantly face this kind of 'concern' and 'guidance' at the White family, then I think we need to move up our engagement ceremony as soon as possible."
"The Wilson family's eldest grandson's wife—I don't want her to suffer another day of grievances outside."
These words were like a resounding slap across Marlowe and Amelia's faces.
Benjamin not only completely defended me but also laid their shameful thoughts bare on the table, while subtly rebuking Preston.
Preston's face instantly became extremely ugly.
"Well said!" Quentin, who had been silent, heavily set down his cup, his face showing undisguised approval to Benjamin and disappointment in the White family. "The Wilson family doesn't need others to teach us manners."
Sloane also dropped the smile from her face. She stood up and squeezed my hand, her eyes full of sympathy. "You've been wronged."
After speaking, without even glancing at the White family members, she said directly to Quentin, "I'm a bit tired. Let's go back."
Quentin nodded, stood up with his cane, and said to Benjamin, "You see Ophelia off. Handle the rest yourself."
Quentin and Sloane's attitude was firm—they left without any hesitation.
Benjamin got up to see them off. In the entire private room, only Benjamin, I, the White family members, and a table of exquisite dishes that had barely been touched remained.
Benjamin wanted to see me off, but I glanced coolly at Marlowe and Amelia, smiled slightly, and said, "No need."
The car ride back was dead silent.
Amelia sat in the passenger seat, her head turned toward the window, but her shoulders were slightly trembling—clearly, she was crying from anger.
Marlowe sat beside me, her face gloomy, not saying a word.
I leaned back in the rear seat, watching all this coldly.
I knew clearly that Preston's silence in the driver's seat wasn't because he was blaming Marlowe and Amelia for their stupidity and rudeness, but because he was angry that their methods were too clumsy and had nearly ruined this marriage that could bring huge benefits to the White family.
As long as his core interests weren't touched, he always turned a blind eye to these sordid family matters.
Selfishness and cold-bloodedness were already carved into his bones.
Back at the White Mansion, Preston did exactly as I expected—he changed his shoes without a word and went straight upstairs to his study, leaving this mess to us.
As soon as he left, Marlowe immediately pulled Amelia to sit on the sofa and began comforting her in a low voice. Marlowe and Amelia—one crying and sobbing, the other cursing through gritted teeth—all their attacks without exception pointed at me.
"Mom, did you see? That Ophelia is a manipulative liar who knows how to put on an act and has the Wilson family completely fooled!"
"Stop crying. Today we were on their turf, so we took a loss. There'll be plenty of chances later..."
I ignored them and walked directly in front of them, sitting down in a single armchair with a composed posture.
My appearance interrupted their whispering.
Amelia, with red eyes, glared at me viciously.
But I gave her a very faint smile. "Since you're so concerned about my marriage, I have a suggestion."
Under their puzzled and wary gazes, I continued unhurriedly, "The day after tomorrow, the Wilson family has arranged for me to try on engagement dresses. It's pretty boring to go alone, so why don't you both come with me? You can help me decide. After all, you understand better than I do how to please the Wilson family, don't you?"
Marlowe and Amelia exchanged glances, both seeing undisguised wariness in each other's eyes.
Amelia was about to open her mouth to mock me when Marlowe stopped her with a look.
Who was Marlowe? She was the woman who had endured humiliation at the White family for years, outlasted my mother, and finally rose to power.
What she was best at was reading situations and turning every possible opportunity into a weapon in her favor.
At tonight's dinner, she and Amelia had been utterly humiliated and were worried about not finding a chance to sabotage this marriage.
My seemingly absurd suggestion sounded to her like a pillow delivered when she was sleepy.
Going to try on dresses would certainly be on the Wilson family's turf, with Wilson family members present.
"Look at what you're saying." The wariness on Marlowe's face quickly faded, replaced by a concerned and moved expression of a loving mother. She even reached out to hold my hand, which I imperceptibly avoided. "Amelia is right—your temperament is just too cold. You shoulder everything yourself. An engagement is such a big deal. Amelia and I accompanying you to give you advice is only proper. Even if you hadn't mentioned it, we were going to suggest it."
She agreed so readily, her expression so sincere.
Seeing this, Amelia's face broke into a sweet smile again as she cozied up to me. "Ophelia, the style of the dress, the matching of jewelry—there's so much to consider. You usually only know about work and definitely don't understand these things. Mom and I will definitely help you check everything carefully and make sure you're the most dazzling bride at the engagement party."