Cora turned to him with a lighthearted smirk. "Now that... that’s a good answer." She leaned in just a bit, her voice playful. "But listen, if I wait for too long and I still don’t get any movent from your side, I’m matching you up with soone. No argunts."
Oliver chuckled. "You’re already planning my future?"
"Absolutely," Cora replied with a teasing grin. "I’ve got so top-tier won in mind—ladies who don’t even need anyone to complete them. They’re respected, they’re confident, and believe , they’ll never chase you. You’ll be the one chasing for your life."
Oliver laughed lightly. "Thanks for the threat."
She tapped his shoulder. "Don’t thank yet."
With that, they both walked inside the restaurant. The ambience was warm and sophisticated, the lighting soft, with faint music playing in the background. A staff mber politely ushered them to the VIP lounge that had already been reserved. It was a cozy yet elegant space, away from the crowd, perfect for their dinner.
Once seated, the nus were presented to them. Oliver began scanning through the options with curiosity, while Cora quietly watched him for a second before focusing on hers.
But Cora’s eyes lingered just a mont too long.
Sothing felt off.
She couldn’t quite place it—maybe it was the way the nu had been tampered with, or the tension she sensed from the waiter who brought it in. But she shook the feeling off quickly. It had been a while since they hung out like this. She didn’t want to ruin the mont over so vague instinct.
So, she smiled and picked sothing light. Oliver, on the other hand, went for one of the chef’s special dishes. They chatted, laughed, and shared mories while they waited. When their food arrived, it looked beautiful—plated perfectly and steaming hot.
They ate slowly, enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s company. The atmosphere felt nice—familiar, like nothing had changed between them despite everything that had happened.
After dinner, as they got up to leave, Oliver instinctively reached for his wallet. But before he could bring it out, the head waiter stepped forward with a courteous smile.
"Excuse , sir," he said gently, "but your bill has already been covered."
Oliver blinked. "What?"
The waiter nodded. "Yes. Everything—the food, the drinks. All covered."
Oliver turned slowly to Cora, confused. "Wait... you paid?"
But from the look on Cora’s face—wide-eyed and genuinely surprised—she hadn’t. She shook her head slightly. "No... I didn’t."
Oliver’s brows furrowed. "Then... who did?"
At that mont, the door to the lounge creaked open slowly, and the sound of polished shoes stepped against the tiled floor.
Both Oliver and Cora turned their heads.
And there he was—William.
His presence was bold, uninvited, and carried the unmistakable aura of arrogance that Oliver recognized too well. William had his hands in his pockets, his designer blazer resting smoothly over his shoulders, his lips curled into a smug little smile as he strolled into the private lounge like he owned the place.
The change on Oliver’s face was instant.
From relaxed and lighthearted to tense and irritated. His brows drew close, his jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed sharply as his gaze fixed on William like a knife waiting to pierce.
Cora sat up straighter in confusion, glancing between the two brothers.
Oliver slowly stood to his feet.
"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked coldly, his tone sharp and unwelcoming.
William’s smug smile didn’t falter. He glanced around the VIP lounge lazily, then his eyes finally settled on Oliver. "Relax, little brother," he said with mock innocence. "Is it a cri now to show up at a restaurant?"
Oliver took a step forward, trying to keep his voice from rising, though the tension in his throat betrayed him. "Don’t give that," he snapped. "You knew exactly where I was. Don’t play dumb. You tracked , didn’t you?"
William raised an eyebrow. "Track you?" He chuckled as if amused. "Why would I track you? You think you’re that important?"
Cora looked between them again, now clearly uncomfortable. "Oliver..." she said softly.
But Oliver didn’t take his eyes off William. "You paid the bill. Didn’t you?"
William leaned on the back of a nearby chair with one hand, that smug look still dancing on his face. "Let’s just say... I was being generous. It’s a good restaurant. Soone might as well foot the bill, right?"
Oliver’s jaw clenched tighter. "This was a quiet dinner. Between friends. You had no business here."
William’s eyes twinkled as he gave a half-shrug. "I had business, alright. A deal to close. Big money, important people. Not that I need to explain myself. But let’s be honest—you never told where you were going. So how could I possibly have known you’d be here?"
His words dripped with false innocence, like poison sugarcoated in politeness.
Oliver stared at him for a long, cold mont.
The truth was crystal clear, this wasn’t coincidence, not even close.
This was a calculated interruption a staged intrusion ant to throw him off, to irritate him, to insert William into Cora’s evening, and possibly... her life.
And William knew it, he was testing him, Poking the bear.
Oliver could feel his fists tightening at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. This wasn’t the ti. Not in front of her.
But what stung more than William’s smirk was the mory flashing through Oliver’s mind—that brief mont back at ho, when his father practically begged him to hand Cora over. And now this? William showing up uninvited like a vulture circling?
At that mont, William straightened his posture and raised one hand slightly, as though asking the room to quiet down—not that anyone was talking except him. His voice carried a calm, practiced sharpness that made Oliver’s ears burn.
"Let just go straight to the point," William began, locking eyes with his younger brother. "When I was coming here... I saw your car parked outside. And I knew imdiately—it was yours."
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