Chapter 14

I didn’t take his last sentence to heart. My mind was stuck on what Michael had said earlier: Grace went on her own. That really messed with how I saw her. I always thought she and Ronald weren’t that close in the first place—it was all him. Chasing after her hard, trying every trick in the book, took a full five years before he finally won her over. So I’d always assumed Ronald had asked her to come over. Grace seemed like the sweet kind, too kind to say no. Maybe Michael didn’t know the full story. Or maybe he was just trying to patch things up. But honestly, I stopped caring a long time ago. They could do whatever they wanted. As long as I stayed out of it, kept myself safe, and didn’t repeat the mistakes of my past life, I’d be fine. Seeing me lost in thought, Michael called me softly, “Ma’am, I’ve been Mr. Wright’s driver for years, and to be honest, it’s only when you’re around that he seems... normal. Since you’ve been gone, he’s just…” Before he could finish, the passenger door suddenly opened. Michael instantly shut up. I saw Ronald holding a fancy-looking gift bag, placing it carefully on the front seat. It looked way too elegant to be for his mom. Honestly, it had “for someone special” written all over it. My gut told me it was probably for Grace. Ronald glanced sideways at me, like checking whether I was in the car, then walked to the back seat. One long leg stepped in, then he sat down smoothly. When he shut the door, a gust of wind followed him in, messing up the hair around my forehead. With the wind came a faint scent—refreshing and calm. The car started moving quickly. I fixed my hair, then turned my head toward where the fragrance was coming from. That face hit me like a punch—absurdly handsome. Straight nose, sharp jawline, those deep almond-shaped eyes that somehow looked both soft and distant. Tall frame, sitting upright. His well-fitted suit, paired with a bold plaid tie, wasn’t as stylish as the ones I used to pick, but with a face like his? Still looked like trouble in a suit. Ronald, no doubt still the guy who could make me fall head over heels in my past life. That face? Total cheat code. Maybe he felt my stare—he frowned and looked straight at me, eyes sweeping up and down with clear disapproval. “What’s with that look?” I raised an eyebrow at him. He gave a half-smirk, then said casually, “Dressed like this for a family dinner? If someone didn’t know better, they might think you’re here to beg.” I glanced down at my outfit, then sneered, “Ronald, this is a few hundred bucks. You expecting designer vibes on a budget?” Sure, it wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, well put together—not some ragged mess. “Change it,” he said flatly. I kept my eyes on the road, face blank. “No money.” He chuckled and gave me a quick look. “Figured. You didn’t exactly land on your feet after leaving me.” I clenched my teeth, glaring at him. “Ronald, that smug, superior attitude of yours? I’ve had enough. “You keep mouthing off, I’m not showing up to the dinner.” “Oh really?” Ronald looked amused and shot back. “Like I care if you do.” I ignored his mockery—no point wasting words. The car fell back into silence. When we pulled up at the Wrights’ house, it was already full of guests. All dressed to the nines in designer suits and gowns, chatting and laughing in small groups, all smiles and social masks. The Wrights were filthy rich, and even a so-called "family dinner" turned into a giant show of status. Everyone was subtly comparing, trying to come out on top. No one wanted to be the one looked down on. I scanned the crowd. No sign of Grandpa Wright. But I did spot Lisa, dressed to impress, mingling and laughing like the perfect hostess. Same as last time—just like before. This gathering was clearly her doing again. When she saw Ronald and me arrive, her perfectly-maintained smile grew wider and she headed straight for us. Trailing behind her was a teenage boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen. His features bore a clear resemblance to Ronald, but with a cocky grin and an unruly air—nothing like Ronald’s calm and composed demeanor. That was Matthew Wright, Ronald’s notorious younger brother. Lisa lit up the moment she saw Ronald. “Ronald! I’ve been waiting ages—what took you so long?” “There was a little hold-up on the way,” he replied politely. She gave his face a once-over, worry instantly blooming in her eyes as she reached out to touch his cheek gently. “You look thinner. I heard from Linda that your stomach’s been acting up again. Feeling better now?” Ronald subtly dodged her hand and replied with a low voice, “No need to worry. It’s much better.” Lisa’s eyes softened as she nodded, but the next second, that warmth disappeared as she shot a reproachful glance my way. “As his wife, shouldn’t you be taking better care of him? He’s sick and you don’t even notice?” Ronald and I were just putting on a front today—mutually beneficial. I had no time or interest in entertaining her accusation. Seeing that I didn’t react, Lisa narrowed her eyes at me before returning to her sweet persona as she looked back at Ronald. “Your father’s waiting in the study. Go on up.” Ronald gave a slight nod and headed upstairs, leaving me behind to face the mother-son duo. I stayed calm. I'd seen this play before—too many times in the last life. Back then, I’d be anxious and walk on eggshells, terrified of upsetting her. This time? Let it rot. I wasn't playing along. Lisa spoke again, this time with a graceful smile. “It’s a cozy little family dinner tonight. Just our folks around the table.” “Honestly, everyone’s probably sick of the cook’s dishes by now,” she added, glancing sidelong at me with obvious intent. “Why don't you show off your cooking skills a bit for the family?” The moment she said that, eyes started turning my way. Some of the younger folks, clueless to the undertone, even clapped and cheered. The older ones? They sensed the hidden tension and stayed quiet, just watching. I straightened my back, looked calm as ever, and replied lazily, “Sorry, I’m not that great in the kitchen. Don’t want to ruin everyone’s appetite.” Up until now, Matthew hadn’t said a word. He dropped into a chair, kicked up one leg casually, and smirked. “Come on, Isabella. Didn’t you take some cooking classes just for my bro? Rumor has it even he, with his picky taste, was eating like a king. So making dinner for the family should be easy, right?” “Or… you just don’t want to?” I didn’t even sugarcoat it. “Pretty clear, no? Yeah, I just don’t feel like it.” His smile froze for half a second before he gave a cold snort. “So... it’s only been a year and your true colors are already showing, huh? This lazy attitude—how are you even good enough for my brother?”