When Mr. Harris saw Quentin and Amanda enter, his face transformed. He smiled widely and waved an enthusiastic hand. "Little Mandy has come to visit! Quickly, child, come and sit by me."
Amanda instantly shed her icy demeanor. With a sweet, practiced smile, she strode toward Mr. Harris. Quentin, finding himself completely ignored by his father, could only raise his eyebrows in helpless bewilderment as he followed her to the sofa.
Once seated, Amanda presented the hand-picked bouquet. "I made this for you myself," she said, her voice dripping with honey.
Mr. Harris beamed, cradling the flowers. "Oh, they're so fresh! I love them."
"In all my forty years, I've never seen anyone give a bouquet of weeds as a formal gift," Tiffany Harris remarked from across the table, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Amanda shot her a chilling glance. Despite Tiffany's meticulous makeup, she couldn't hide the haggard lines of exhaustion and bitterness on her face. Amanda knew exactly what kind of "virtue" hid behind Tiffany's dignified facade, so she didn't bother being humble.
"These flowers were planted by Quentin's own hand," Amanda replied with a faint, innocent smile. "I simply wanted to pick the best of his hard work to show my respect to a father who raised such a filial son."
She looked toward Quentin with wide, guileless eyes. Quentin smiled, wrapping a reassuring arm around her waist. "It's alright, Mandy. Dad would never criticize the flowers I grew myself. Right, Dad?"
He shot his father a look that was less "filial" and more "menacing." Mr. Harris looked as though he wanted to swat Quentin with the bouquet, but out of respect for his new daughter-in-law, he forced a smile.
"Yes, yes," the old man chuckled. "This boy has obsessed over that rose garden for years. It's thanks to Mandy that I finally get to see the results."
Tiffany snorted, refusing to let the matter drop. "Married for almost a month and this is her first visit? How 'respectful' of her."
Quentin's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he prepared to snap back, but he felt Amanda's hand tap twice against his arm—a silent signal to stand down. He frowned slightly but leaned back, yielding the "battlefield" to her.
Amanda leisurely poured a cup of tea for Mr. Harris, then for Quentin and herself. "It's my own fault for not organizing my filming schedule better," she said softly to Mr. Harris. "I wish I were like Sister-in-law—with no work to do, I could stay home every day, play chess with you, and keep you company."
The "hidden needle" hit its mark. Tiffany's face twisted in rage at the implication that she was both idle and neglectful. "Being an actress makes you quite arrogant, doesn't it?"
Amanda took a slow sip of her tea, her gaze drifting toward Javier, who had remained silent. "Sister-in-law, as family, I can listen to your critiques and accept them humbly. But if an outsider heard the eldest daughter-in-law of the Harris family speaking so narrowly of others... well, it wouldn't look good for the family reputation. Besides," she added, her voice turning contemplative, "if I remember correctly, Javier's girlfriend is also an actress, isn't she?"
Tiffany's face turned a violent shade of red. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up. "Amanda! You brat!"
"That's enough!" Dylan shouted, cutting her off before she could launch into a tirade. He turned toward Amanda with a practiced, gentle smile. "Amanda, don't take her words to heart."
The sight of Dylan's "gentle" smile made Amanda feel physically nauseous. Suddenly, the arm around her waist tightened. Quentin, who had been lounging back, sat bolt upright and pulled Amanda firmly into his side.
His eyes were cold as he met Dylan's gaze. "Older brother, Mandy is your sister-in-law. I believe you should address her with the proper title."
Dylan's smile turned brittle and awkward. Quentin didn't wait for a response; he turned his icy focus toward Tiffany. "And Sister-in-law, Mandy married into this house to be my wife, not for you to berate at your leisure. I expect that I won't hear another 'harsh word' or 'nonsense' from you again."
His tone was flat, but the weight of his authority felt like a physical pressure in the room. Even Tiffany, who was usually fearless, felt the chill.
"You're being too protective, Uncle," Javier said, breaking the silence with a deep, knowing look at Amanda. "With Auntie's eloquence, she's hardly being 'oppressed' by anyone."
Quentin ignored the jab, instead reaching out to smooth a stray hair from Amanda's forehead. "Mandy has a lively personality and a sharp mind, but she's still young. She hasn't learned to mask her emotions as well as her... older peers."
Javier's lip twitched. Quentin was essentially telling them that because Amanda was the youngest, they were obligated to tolerate her.
Elder Harris, watching the simmering resentment between his sons and grandson, finally lost his patience. He slammed his cane against the floor.
"Are you here to visit me or to start a war?" he roared. "Can none of you hold your tongues for the sake of an old man?"
Silence fell instantly. Fortunately, a maid entered to announce that dinner was served, breaking the stifling tension.
Recognizing her role as the "youngest," Amanda immediately went to Mr. Harris's side to support him. "It's my fault, Dad. I spoke without thinking and upset everyone. Please don't be angry with me. I'll make you some lotus seed sweet soup later to make up for it, okay?"
Coaxed by her soft voice, Mr. Harris's expression softened. He shot her a mock-angry look. "I don't need soup. I'll be happy enough if you just visit this old man more often."
"I will," Amanda promised, leading him toward the dining room. "I'll bring Quentin along every time."
Quentin watched their retreating figures, a genuine smile returning to his face as he stood to follow them, leaving Javier, Dylan, and Tiffany sitting in the heavy silence of the foyer.