Chapter 93 — The Dinner Invitation
Amber had exactly forty-three minutes of peace.
Forty-three minutes of quiet coffee.
Forty-three minutes of pretending the internet wasn't currently dissecting her existence.
Forty-three minutes before the doorbell rang.
She stared at the intercom screen from across the kitchen island.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The screen showed a woman in a sharp navy suit holding a tablet.
Behind her stood two security guards.
Not building security.
Wilson security.
Amber sighed and pressed the speaker.
"Yes?"
The woman spoke politely but efficiently.
"Good morning, Miss Gareth. I'm here on behalf of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson."
Amber froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
Of course.
She should've known.
When a billionaire son announces a public engagement, the parents don't stay quiet.
They appear.
Like well-dressed hurricanes.
Amber opened the door.
The assistant stepped inside, offering a polite nod.
"Miss Gareth."
"Hi," Amber said carefully.
The woman handed her a slim envelope.
Heavy paper.
Embossed.
Old-school rich.
Amber didn't open it immediately.
She already knew what it was.
Still—
She broke the seal.
Inside was a single card.
Simple.
Elegant.
Direct.
Mr. and Mrs. Richard Wilson request the pleasure of your presence at dinner this evening.
7:00 PM.
Wilson Estate.
Amber blinked once.
Twice.
"…Tonight?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Gareth."
"That's… fast."
"Mr. Wilson senior prefers efficiency."
Amber let out a slow breath.
Of course he did.
Powerful families loved control.
And right now—
They had none.
Which meant this dinner wasn't an invitation.
It was an evaluation.
The assistant continued smoothly.
"Mr. Wilson asked that you be informed he will meet you there directly after his board meeting."
Amber nodded slowly.
"Right."
The assistant smiled politely.
"If you require transportation, wardrobe assistance, or preparation materials—"
"I'm good," Amber said quickly.
The woman hesitated.
"…Preparation materials?"
"Yes. Background files on the family, expected conversation topics, behavioral expectations—"
Amber stared.
"…Is this a royal coronation?"
"Something similar."
She almost laughed.
God.
What kind of family was she marrying into?
The assistant gave another small nod.
"We will see you this evening, Miss Gareth."
Then she left.
Just like that.
Amber closed the door.
Silence filled the penthouse again.
She looked down at the invitation.
Then at the clock.
10:17 AM.
Dinner in less than nine hours.
Meeting the parents.
Not casual parents.
Not normal parents.
The parents of the most controlled man she'd ever met.
Her stomach tightened.
"…Okay," she muttered to herself.
She grabbed her phone.
Opened messages.
Typed.
Amber:
Your parents invited me to dinner tonight.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Alex:
I know.
Her eyes narrowed.
Amber:
You knew??
Alex:
They called during the meeting.
Amber:
And you didn't warn me?!
A pause.
Alex:
You were sleeping.
Amber:
That's worse.
Another pause.
Then—
Alex:
Are you worried?
Amber stared at the screen.
Was she?
She'd negotiated million-dollar deals.
Destroyed competitors in boardrooms.
Handled scandals, betrayals, and corporate sharks.
But somehow—
Meeting Alex's parents felt like the most dangerous thing yet.
Because business battles were predictable.
Family wasn't.
She typed slowly.
Amber:
No.
Pause.
Then added another message.
Amber:
Yes.
Three dots again.
Then—
Alex:
They'll like you.
She snorted.
Amber:
You say that like you've met me.
Alex:
Exactly.
Her lips twitched.
But the tension stayed.
She typed again.
Amber:
What are they like?
The reply took longer this time.
Finally—
Alex:
My father is controlled.
Not helpful.
Amber:
And your mother?
Longer pause.
Then—
Alex:
Observant.
Amber leaned back in the chair.
"…Great," she muttered.
Controlled father.
Observant mother.
Meaning the father would test her.
And the mother would see through her.
Perfect.
She typed one last message.
Amber:
If I die tonight, avenge me.
The reply came immediately.
Alex:
Unlikely.
Amber:
Comforting.
Alex:
You scare people more than they scare you.
She stared at that.
Did she?
Maybe in business.
But this wasn't business.
This was family.
Expectations.
Traditions.
And the terrifying possibility that she might not be what they wanted for their son.
Her gaze dropped to the ring.
The diamond caught the light again.
A reminder.
He chose you.
But families didn't always accept the same choices.
Her phone buzzed again.
New notification.
A news article.
"Who Is Amber Gareth? The Woman Behind Wilson's Engagement."
She hesitated.
Then opened it.
Bad decision.
The article scrolled endlessly.
Photos.
History.
Speculation.
Half truths.
Exaggerations.
But one paragraph made her chest tighten.
"Sources say the Wilson family is notoriously private and traditional. Whether they will accept their son's sudden engagement remains unclear."
Amber closed the article slowly.
"…Yeah," she whispered.
Unclear.
That sounded about right.
Across the city, inside a cold glass boardroom—
Alex Wilson ended his meeting with one sentence.
"My fiancée will be joining us for dinner tonight."
The board members exchanged looks.
Some curious.
Some calculating.
Some skeptical.
Alex didn't care.
He picked up his phone.
Typed one final message.
Alex:
Wear something that makes you feel dangerous.
Amber read the message ten minutes later.
A slow smile spread across her face.
Dangerous?
That she could do.
Meeting his parents wasn't a battlefield.
It was an audition.
And Amber Gareth had never failed an audition in her life.