Victor Sullivan's car pulled up to the Laurent residence as dusk settled.

He straightened his tie and took a deep breath.

The crisp sound of leather shoes echoed on the cobblestones as he stepped out.

The Laurent living room blazed with light.

The moment he entered, multiple pairs of eyes turned toward him.

"Everyone's here," Victor forced a businesslike smile, his tone deliberately casual.

The air froze for a second.

No one responded.

Eleanor Sullivan fiddled with her teacup, refusing to even glance his way.

Victor's Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze swept over Sophia Laurent's serene profile, then past Ethan Sullivan's icy expression.

Finally, it landed on Vincent Laurent.

The legendary second son of the Laurent family sipped his tea leisurely, not bothering to look up.

"Victor, you're here?" Margaret Laurent finally broke the silence. "Have a seat."

The crystal chandelier above the dining table cast dazzling reflections.

Sandwiched between the two matriarchs, Sophia's plate overflowed with delicacies.

"Try this sea bass—flown in fresh this morning," Margaret said, placing a piece of snowy-white fish on Sophia's plate.

"My granddaughter-in-law needs more ribs," Eleanor countered, piling them high.

Sophia's lips curved slightly. "Thank you, Grandmothers."

Victor watched the scene, his chest tightening.

He turned to Vincent. "You're fortunate to have such an exceptional daughter."

Vincent set down his chopsticks with a faint smirk. "Not as fortunate as you, with such outstanding sons."

The words sounded complimentary but carried a hidden barb.

Victor's smile stiffened.

"Speaking of which," Vincent drawled, "some people think too highly of themselves, believing they're phoenixes soaring above the clouds. But in reality..."

He gave Victor a meaningful look. "...they're just common pheasants."

Ethan coughed lightly into his fist.

Sophia's lashes fluttered as she took a sip of juice.

"You jest, in-law," Victor said through gritted teeth, raising his wine glass.

Vincent didn't move. "In-law? My daughter is currently unattached."

"Young people break up and reconcile all the time," Victor said with a hollow laugh.

"True," Vincent nodded. "A good horse doesn't return to old grass. Especially when..." He paused pointedly. "...there are endless pastures ahead."

Victor's knuckles whitened.

"I have business at the company..." He made to stand.

"Sit down!" Eleanor snapped.

Victor's temple throbbed.

The scent of flowers drifted in from the garden.

In the adjacent sitting room, the aroma of tea lingered.

"Bingdao vintage?" Victor ventured.

Vincent's slender fingers traced the rim of his cup. "You have a good eye, Mr. Sullivan."

The compliment restored a sliver of Victor's confidence.

"I heard the Laurent Group is expanding into renewable energy," he segued into business. "Sullivan Enterprises could—"

"Unnecessary," Vincent cut him off. "Businessmen value profit over loyalty. We're just a modest family—hardly worthy of your attention."

Victor's face darkened.

"Mr. Laurent, are you—"

"Tell me, Mr. Sullivan," Vincent met his gaze directly, "if the Laurents fell on hard times tomorrow, would you force my daughter into another divorce?"

A teacup slammed onto the table.

Victor shot to his feet. "Vincent Laurent!"

"What?" Vincent calmly adjusted his cuff. "Did I strike a nerve?"

Moonlight spilled through the window.

Suddenly, Victor felt like nothing more than a pitiful clown.