Quentin led Amanda to a restaurant tucked away in a quiet street near the company. It was a place he frequented, known for its understated elegance and authentic, traditional flavors.
Instead of a closed-off private room, they chose a semi-private space partitioned by delicate bamboo curtains. Outside, a beautifully landscaped artificial aquarium shimmered under soft lights. Amanda was instantly captivated, leaning her head toward the glass to watch the colorful fish. Quentin didn't disturb her; he simply watched her for a moment with a soft expression before ordering their meal.
When the dishes arrived, Amanda was snapped out of her trance. As she looked at the table, a familiar warmth spread through her chest. Just as she had suspected, there wasn't a single trace of seafood.
Quentin scooped a bowl of clear chicken soup and placed it before her. "Drink some soup first to warm your stomach."
"Thank you," Amanda murmured, accepting the spoon. She found it impossible to ignore the silent, constant care he showed her.
"Is it to your taste?" he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He placed a piece of tender fish in tomato sauce—carefully deboned—into her bowl. "The food here is quite famous. If you like it, I'll bring you back as often as you want."
Amanda poked at her rice, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "I'd like that. It's very delicious."
The harmony of their dinner was shattered a moment later. The bamboo curtain was swept aside without a word of greeting.
"Fancy meeting you two here," Javier said, stepping into their space with a dazzling, practiced smile. Behind him, Elena followed, her presence like a dark cloud over the table.
Quentin didn't lose his composure. He didn't even look up from his tea. "Are you here to eat as well? There's an empty table next to us." The underlying message was clear: Move along.
Javier ignored the dismissal entirely. His eyes were fixed on Amanda, who sat with her head bowed, refusing to acknowledge him. He pulled out a chair directly next to her and sat down. "It's been a while since we all sat together. Why don't we make it a family dinner, Uncle?"
The rice in Amanda's mouth suddenly turned to ash. She could feel Elena's resentful glare burning into the side of her face.
"Amanda," Quentin said, his voice calm but authoritative. "Come sit next to me. If Javier likes that chair so much, let him have it. We shouldn't divide the couple—someone might get the wrong idea."
Amanda didn't hesitate. She stood up and moved to the seat beside Quentin. Despite Javier's darkening expression and Elena's sharp intake of breath, Amanda calmly reached for her water to steady her nerves.
"Long time no see, Mandy," Javier said, his voice dripping with a false sweetness. "I see you're still as obedient as ever."
He was clearly rankled by how easily she followed Quentin's lead. Before Amanda could retort, Quentin's aura shifted. The air in the small space became heavy and oppressive—the weight of a true ruler.
"Javier," Quentin said, his voice like cracking ice. "Have you been away so long that you've forgotten your upbringing? Is your Aunt's name something for you to use so casually?"
Amanda looked at the man beside her in surprise. She had seen him tease her, seen him sleep with a soft expression, but she had momentarily forgotten that this was Quentin Harris—the man who held the city's economy in his palm.
Javier, however, didn't flinch. He leaned back, a dark, sinister glit in his eyes. He looked at Amanda and forced a smile. "Forgive my rudeness... Aunt."
Having been married to him for five years in her previous life, Amanda saw the poison hidden in that smile. But hearing him forced to address her as his elder made her feel a surge of vindictive joy. She smiled back, her eyes bright and cold.
"It's quite alright, Javier. Just remember it for next time."
Javier's smile nearly crumbled. Across from them, Elena was gaping in shock. This was her first time meeting the legendary Quentin Harris, but the reality of the situation was hitting her like a freight train. Amanda married his uncle? She's technically Javier's superior now? The thought of Amanda holding power over her made Elena's blood run cold.
Javier turned his focus back to Quentin, his tone shifting to business. "The board of directors is pushing that new real estate project. I was wondering how far the arrangements have gone, Uncle?"
Quentin took a slow sip of his tea. "You should focus on your own department, Javier. Don't overreach."
"I'm just looking out for a small piece of the company," Javier shrugged, his eyes darting to Amanda.
Amanda felt a chill. She knew he was trying to "activate" his mole—reminding her of the mission he'd given her in the garden. She narrowed her eyes. Did he really think she would still help him destroy the man who actually protected her?
The meal ended in a stifling, strange atmosphere. Since Quentin had sent his driver home, he told Amanda to wait at the entrance while he went to fetch the car from the garage. Javier, in a moment of calculating madness, told Elena to stay with Amanda while he went to get his own vehicle.
The two women stood under the restaurant's awning, the silence between them razor-sharp.
"Amanda," Elena hissed, her disdain finally boiling over. "Are you really still so pathetic? Are you so desperate for Javier's attention that you'd marry his uncle just to stay in his life? To force him to look at you? I'm telling you now—it won't work."
Amanda looked at Elena and felt a strange sense of pity. This girl really thought Javier Harris was a prize.
Amanda let out a soft, melodic laugh that made Elena flinch. "You're so proud to have my 'trash,' aren't you, Elena? If you like him so much, keep him. He's just a man, after all."
As Elena's face twisted into an ugly mask of rage, Amanda leaned in closer. "Here's a bit of advice: the eyes are the windows to the soul. Before you look at others with such arrogance, you might want to wipe yours clean and see what—and who—you're actually holding onto."
Quentin's car pulled up to the curb. Without waiting for a response, Amanda turned her back on the past and climbed into the passenger seat.
As the car pulled away, she looked at Quentin's profile in the dashboard light. She saw it clearly now: Javier didn't love anyone but himself. He was a vacuum that consumed everything and everyone. Let Elena waste her life on him. Amanda was finally heading home.