Chapter 94 — The Wilson Estate
The Wilson estate was exactly what Amber expected.
And somehow worse.
The car slowed as the gates opened slowly, iron bars sliding apart with the quiet authority of generational wealth.
Amber leaned slightly toward the window.
The driveway stretched endlessly ahead, lined with tall black cypress trees that looked like silent guards watching her arrival.
At the end of it—
The house.
No.
Estate.
A massive structure of pale stone and glass rising against the evening sky. Soft golden lights illuminated the terraces, balconies, and long rows of windows.
It wasn't flashy.
It wasn't loud.
It was something more dangerous.
Old money.
The kind that didn't need to show off.
"…Okay," Amber whispered to herself.
Her driver glanced at her through the mirror.
"You alright, Miss Gareth?"
"Define alright."
He smiled politely.
"Mr. Wilson said you might say that."
Of course he did.
Amber exhaled slowly.
Her fingers brushed the ring again.
Still there.
Still warm.
Still real.
The car rolled to a stop.
A man in a dark suit opened the door.
"Good evening, Miss Gareth."
Amber stepped out onto smooth stone steps.
Cool evening air brushed her skin.
She adjusted her coat slightly, smoothing the fabric of the dress underneath.
Alex had told her to wear something dangerous.
So she had.
Black silk.
Long sleeves.
High slit.
Sharp heels.
Hair pulled back into a sleek low bun.
Minimal jewelry.
Except for the ring.
Let them see it.
Let them think whatever they wanted.
She wasn't walking in here like a nervous guest.
She was walking in as the woman their son had chosen.
The front doors opened before she reached them.
A woman stood inside.
Mid-fifties.
Elegant posture.
Silver streaks in dark hair.
Eyes sharp enough to slice glass.
Alex's mother.
No introduction needed.
Amber knew instantly.
The resemblance was subtle but unmistakable.
Same controlled expression.
Same observant gaze.
Same quiet authority.
"Miss Gareth," the woman said.
Her voice was smooth.
Measured.
Not warm.
Not cold.
Evaluating.
Amber smiled politely.
"Mrs. Wilson."
They studied each other for a moment.
Two predators politely circling.
Then Mrs. Wilson stepped aside.
"Please come in."
Amber entered.
The interior was just as intimidating.
High ceilings.
Dark wood.
Art pieces that probably cost more than entire apartments.
But Amber wasn't looking at the decor.
She felt the weight of those eyes on her.
Observing.
Measuring.
Testing.
They walked toward a sitting room.
Another figure stood near the fireplace.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Grey hair.
Sharp suit.
Alex's father.
Richard Wilson.
The man turned as they entered.
His gaze landed on Amber immediately.
Cool.
Controlled.
Assessing.
Amber met it without flinching.
"Mr. Wilson," she said calmly.
He nodded once.
"Miss Gareth."
No smile.
No hostility either.
Just distance.
Which was almost worse.
Silence stretched.
Mrs. Wilson spoke first.
"Alexander will be a few minutes late. His meeting ran over."
Amber nodded.
"I figured."
Richard Wilson gestured toward the seating area.
"Please."
Amber sat gracefully.
Back straight.
Shoulders relaxed.
Like she belonged in rooms like this.
Because she did.
Mrs. Wilson sat across from her.
Richard remained standing for a moment before taking the armchair nearby.
And then—
The interview began.
"How long have you known my son?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
Direct.
No small talk.
Amber respected that.
"Several months."
"And you became engaged yesterday."
"Yes."
A small pause.
Mrs. Wilson folded her hands neatly.
"That's rather fast."
Amber tilted her head slightly.
"So was his first billion."
Richard's eyebrow lifted.
Just slightly.
Mrs. Wilson didn't smile.
But something flickered in her eyes.
Interest.
"Touché," she said.
Silence again.
Richard spoke this time.
"My son is not impulsive."
"No," Amber agreed.
"Which means he had reason."
She held his gaze.
"Yes."
"What reason?"
Amber didn't hesitate.
"He chose me."
Simple.
Unapologetic.
Mrs. Wilson's eyes flicked briefly to Amber's hand.
To the ring.
Of course.
Amber didn't hide it.
Richard leaned back slightly.
"Many women would like to be chosen by my son."
Amber nodded calmly.
"I'm sure."
"Why you?"
Ah.
There it was.
The real question.
Amber could've listed accomplishments.
Her business deals.
Her reputation.
Her intelligence.
But she knew that wasn't what they were asking.
So she answered honestly.
"Because I didn't try to be."
Mrs. Wilson's gaze sharpened.
Amber continued.
"I didn't chase him. I didn't flatter him. I didn't try to fit some image of what people think he wants."
She leaned back slightly.
"I just… stayed."
The same word Alex kept using.
Richard's expression shifted slightly.
Recognition.
Understanding.
The door behind them opened.
Footsteps entered the room.
Amber didn't turn immediately.
But she felt it.
That presence again.
Alex.
His voice came quietly.
"You started without me."
Mrs. Wilson looked at him calmly.
"We were getting acquainted."
Amber finally turned.
Alex stood near the doorway.
Suit jacket slightly undone.
Tie loosened.
Eyes immediately finding her.
Scanning.
Checking.
Like he needed confirmation she was okay.
When he saw her calm expression—
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, walking toward them.
Amber smirked lightly.
"Your parents were deciding my fate."
Richard spoke dryly.
"Not yet."
Alex stopped beside her chair.
His hand rested lightly on the back.
Protective.
Subtle.
Mrs. Wilson noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
Her gaze shifted between them.
Watching the interaction.
The body language.
The silent understanding.
Then she asked the one question neither of them expected.
"Amber," she said softly.
Amber looked at her.
Mrs. Wilson's eyes were steady.
Curious.
Not hostile anymore.
Just searching.
"Do you love my son?"
The room went still.
Alex didn't move.
Richard didn't breathe.
Amber's heart skipped.
Because that was the one question she hadn't prepared for.
And the only one she couldn't answer easily.