Ethan didn't expect to get ambushed by Isabella at the campus café, much less told that her family had summoned him for dinner that night.
"You're serious?" he asked, his voice just a touch too high.
Isabella, sipping from a porcelain cup like they weren't on the verge of disaster, gave a small nod. "They want to see you. Tonight. I suggest you wear something that doesn't look like it came out of a lost-and-found bin."
She stood, already turning away.
"Wait—Isabella, what do I say to them?"
She paused only briefly, eyes not quite meeting his. "Just survive."
The Wynn estate didn't feel like a home—it felt like a museum that occasionally tolerated humans.
Tall glass walls, monochrome decor, and the kind of silence that dared anyone to speak first. Ethan, in a borrowed blazer and tie from Logan, waited stiffly at the table, opposite Isabella's parents.
Mr. Wynn looked like a man who read profit margins for breakfast. Mrs. Wynn had a smile that felt like a job interview.
"So," Mr. Wynn began, adjusting his cufflinks, "you're the young man who proposed to our daughter in public."
"Yes, sir," Ethan said, forcing a calm tone. "Under… unusual circumstances."
"You do realize Isabella has responsibilities. Expectations."
Ethan nodded. "I do. I'm doing my best to live up to them."
Mr. Wynn raised a skeptical brow. "You? A nobody, suddenly thrust into our world?"
Ethan straightened. The pressure was intense—but his breath didn't catch. His words didn't tremble. Iron Will surged steady beneath his ribs.
"I may not come from much. But I treat Isabella with respect, and I won't pretend to be something I'm not."
A flicker of something—surprise?—passed across Isabella's expression. Her mother's lips pressed tighter. Her father leaned back.
"Hmm. Bold."
As the conversation continued, Ethan fielded question after question—his grades, future plans, understanding of the Wynn legacy.
Isabella remained mostly silent, eyes flicking between her parents and Ethan. Once, when her father made a cutting remark, she opened her mouth—then shut it.
But Ethan responded for her.
"She's not just an asset or an investment," he said. "She's brilliant, capable, and deserves someone who sees that beyond her last name."
Silence followed.
[Milestone Event: Withstood Elite Family Scrutiny as Fiancé!]
[Skill Draw Available. Choose one:]
[Skill 1] Elegant Composure (Uncommon)
Grace under pressure becomes second nature. Your presence and etiquette impress in formal or high-stakes social settings.
[Skill 2] Persuasive Poise (Uncommon)
Your words carry subtle weight. Especially effective in conversations with older or higher-status individuals.
[Skill 3] Protective Presence (Rare)
You inspire confidence and subtle admiration when standing up for others, especially in hostile or judgmental environments.
Ethan stared at the skill options. All of them were tempting. But only one echoed how he'd felt when he stood up for Isabella—how right it felt to say what she couldn't.
He took a breath.
[Skill Acquired: Protective Presence (Rare) — You inspire confidence and subtle admiration when standing up for others, especially in hostile or judgmental environments.]
As the evening wound down, Mrs. Wynn's tone cooled.
"Well, you've survived the interrogation," she said. "That's something."
Mr. Wynn offered a curt nod. "We'll see how long this engagement lasts."
They left.
Only when the heavy doors clicked shut did Isabella speak again.
"…You didn't have to say all that."
"I did," Ethan said. "Someone should."
She looked at him, eyes unreadable. But her voice was softer than usual.
"…Thank you."
Then she turned and walked away, but not before Ethan caught the faintest curve at the edge of her lips—a smile?