The dining room of the Smith estate was a picture of opulence.
A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, its golden light casting a soft glow over the long mahogany table.
Crystal glasses sparkled under the radiance, and fine silverware gleamed against pristine white tablecloths.
The air carried the subtle aroma of roasted pheasant, truffle-infused potatoes, and aged wine—a meal befitting nobility.
Amelia Grande sat at the centre of it all, her posture elegant, her presence commanding.
Dressed in an off-shoulder satin gown that accentuated her slender figure, she moved with the practiced grace of a woman accustomed to high society.
Every flick of her wrist, every measured sip of wine, was deliberate—a silent display of refinement.
With delicate precision, she set her fork down and dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. Then, turning to Raymond, she placed a gentle hand on his arm.
"Oh, darling," she murmured, her voice dripping with approval. "This meal is exquisite. The flavours remind me so much of the dinners at Buckingham Palace. It takes me right back."
Her eyes shimmered with nostalgia as she leaned back, swirling the deep red liquid in her glass.
"During my time at Queen Elizabeth's residence," she continued, her tone rich with reminiscence, "every meal was an art form. The chefs understood that cooking was more than just sustenance—it was a legacy, a testament to British excellence."
She let out a soft sigh, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "This—" she gestured gracefully towards the meal, "—is exactly what I've been missing. Truffle-infused potatoes, the finest caviar, and—" her lips curled in a satisfied smile, "—Château Lafite Rothschild, 1982? You truly do spoil me, Raymond."
Across the table, Joyce and Will Smith exchanged pleased glances. Amelia's approval was as good as a royal decree.
Mark Smith, who had been listening intently, leaned forward with interest. "Tell us more about the palace," he urged. "What's it really like?"
A pleased smile touched Amelia's lips as she turned her gaze to him. Folding her hands delicately on her lap, she tilted her head ever so slightly—a subtle yet graceful movement.
"Ah, where do I even begin?" she mused. "Life at the palace is… extraordinary. It's a world steeped in tradition, precision, and a certain rhythm that only those who have lived within its walls can truly comprehend."
The room fell into a hush as she spoke, her voice weaving an atmosphere of quiet fascination.
"The Queen herself was involved in every detail," Amelia continued, her expression reverent. "From the floral arrangements to the precise seating placements, nothing was ever left to chance. Every event—whether grand or intimate—was a carefully curated experience."
She lifted her chin slightly, her voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone. "Afternoon teas were more than just a gathering. They were rituals, deeply rooted in etiquette and history. Conversations were measured, words chosen with care, and even the way one held a teacup spoke volumes about their upbringing."
Mark nodded thoughtfully. "It must have been an incredible experience."
Amelia sighed, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "It was. And now, with our wedding approaching, I find myself missing that world even more."
At the mention of their wedding, Joyce's eyes sparkled with excitement. She reached for Amelia's hand, squeezing it gently.
"With your background, I expect this wedding to be nothing short of historic," Joyce said warmly. "And who knows? Perhaps Prince Harry and Meghan will attend."
Amelia let out a soft, playful laugh, glancing at Raymond. "Why do I feel like I'm the only one nervous about this day?"
Raymond, who had been silent for most of the conversation, merely offered a polite smile. His gaze, however, remained distant.
Will, sensing the shift in mood, smoothly changed the subject. "By the way, have John and Mary returned from Korea?"
Amelia straightened, her tone turning fond. "You know my parents. Their passion for travel has only grown over the years. After Korea, they went to Africa, and now they're in India, studying Buddhism. My father has been obsessed with the subject ever since one of his articles went viral."
Laughter rippled through the table, the mood lightening once more.
Yet, as Amelia took another sip of wine, her gaze flickered toward Raymond again.
Something about him felt… distant.
***
The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the estate gardens. Raymond stood by the fountain, his hands tucked into his pockets, staring into the rippling water as if it held answers.
Footsteps approached from behind.
Ryan.
"I noticed you barely paid attention to Amelia tonight," Ryan remarked casually, stepping up beside him.
Raymond exhaled slowly. "I don't know what's happening to me, Ryan."
Ryan folded his arms. "Oh?"
Raymond hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Ever since that fight in the boardroom… something shifted. I can't stop thinking about her."
Ryan's brow arched. "Sophia?"
Raymond clenched his jaw. He didn't need to answer.
Ryan smirked. "You sure you don't know what's happening to you?"
Raymond exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It's just… an attraction. That's all."
Ryan chuckled. "Right. Because you've been 'attracted' to dozens of women before, and yet, here you are—standing outside in the cold, brooding over her."
Raymond shot him a glare, but Ryan simply shrugged.
"You kissed her, didn't you?" Ryan pressed.
Raymond's silence was answer enough.
Ryan let out a low whistle. "Wow. This is a mess."
Raymond sighed, rubbing his temples. "I can't afford this, Ryan. I have a responsibility—to my family, to Amelia. I need to focus."
Ryan studied him for a moment before speaking. "Then bury it. Pretend she doesn't exist."
Raymond let out a bitter laugh. "Easier said than done."
Before Ryan could respond, a voice interrupted them.
"Sir Raymond."
They turned.
Sophia.
She stood a few feet away, her posture straight, her expression unreadable. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her features, highlighting the sharp determination in her eyes.
"Miss Amelia would like to see you," she said evenly. "Her room has been arranged."
Raymond hesitated for only a second before nodding.
Ryan smirked knowingly as he followed them inside.
And Raymond, despite everything, couldn't stop his gaze from lingering on Sophia a moment longer than he should have.