Chapter 2 The Invitation

• Zora’s fingers trembled as she tore open the envelope. The moment her eyes fell on the glossy card inside, her lips parted slightly. It was an invitation card to the Business Awarding of J City—something she hadn’t expected, especially after her mother had banned her from anything to do with the family business.
• Oliver leaned closer. “Let me see it.”
• She passed the card into his hand without a word.
• “Why are you staring at it like that? Is the card a snake?” Miranda’s voice was cool but edged with mockery.
• Zora exhaled heavily, still unsure where to begin. “Mom, I don’t want anything to do with your business conference. Count me out of your deals—I’m not interested.”
• “You have to be, Zora!” Miranda snapped, her fists curling at her sides. Her eyes kept darting to Oliver, convinced that every refusal from her daughter was his doing. In her mind, the blame belonged entirely to him.
• “Tell me,” Miranda pressed, “will you also reject this proposal?”
• She smirked slightly, her words dripping with implication. “You are specially invited to the party not just because of our business, but because of my new… Forget it. Just get ready.”
• “I’m not going,” Zora said flatly.
• The refusal deepened Miranda’s scowl. Once again, she decided, this was Oliver’s fault. She strode toward him and shoved him hard in the chest.
• “You immature, good-for-nothing boy! How dare you—”
• “Mom, you can’t keep blaming Oliver every time I say no to you!” Zora stepped between them, her tone protective.
• Oliver touched Zora’s arm, his voice calm. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Mom. Zora will attend the business party.”
• Miranda’s lips curved into a satisfied grin until Oliver added, “But if Zora’s going, I’m going with her.”
• Her smile faltered instantly. “You must be joking.”
• “I’m dead serious, Mom,” he replied without hesitation. “Wherever Zora goes, I go. I’m not leaving her side.”
• Zora gave a firm nod in agreement.
• Miranda looked from one to the other, her expression unreadable. Inwardly, she told herself they were too immature to understand the game they were playing. Outwardly, she forced a dismissive tone. “That’s not a problem.”
• Zora took Oliver’s hand and they left the room together.
• Miranda watched them disappear, her eyes narrowing as her thoughts turned sharp and cruel.
• I only agreed because I want one thing in return—to see you humiliated in front of everyone. No one will help you, not even your wife. Then you’ll finally understand you’re nothing but a piece of premature trash.
• ---
• A few days later, Zora presented Oliver with a sleek, perfectly tailored suit. She had originally bought it as a surprise for his birthday, but knowing her mother’s ways, she decided he should wear it to the party.
• When Oliver stepped out wearing it, the effect was immediate. The dark fabric hugged his frame, and his confident posture brought out a maturity beyond his years.
• Zora’s lips parted in admiration. “You don’t look like a teenager at all. You look like a family man.”
• He grinned, about to say something when a loud knock interrupted.
• “We have to leave now!” Miranda’s voice carried through the door.
• They exchanged a brief glance before following her out.
• ****
• The party was already in full swing, the hall brimming with luxury. The guests—all in some way affiliated with Q Company—moved about with practiced elegance. It was a grand gathering of every sub-company under the Q Group’s umbrella, including Zora’s family business.
• Oliver, the youngest in the room, kept close to Zora as they walked into the glittering hall. The murmurs started almost immediately.
• “Miranda always acts like the wisest,” one voice whispered, “but who would’ve guessed she’d marry her only daughter to a premature piece of trash?”
• Zora gently squeezed Oliver’s hand, guiding his attention away from the cruel words.
• They joined Miranda at her table. She sat stiffly, pretending composure. Three of her friends approached, greeting her warmly—yet not one of them acknowledged Oliver’s presence.
• One woman, accompanied by her daughter, leaned in. “This is Sophie, my third daughter. She had her white wedding just yesterday. And this,” she gestured proudly, “is her husband, Edwin Lambert. He’s a financial accountant at Q Group.”
• Miranda’s eyes flicked over Edwin—tall, well-dressed, the kind of man society praised—and jealousy simmered beneath her polite smile.
• “Congratulations,” she said through gritted teeth.
• Sophie’s mother’s gaze shifted to Oliver. “Is this your son-in-law?”
• Miranda nodded.
• Edwin looked Oliver over. “How is that possible? He’s so young to be married to Zora. What a weak, premature basket.”
• Oliver swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay silent.
• “Excuse me—” he began, but Edwin held up a hand.
• “No, wait. I have a game in mind.” His voice rose enough to draw attention. Miranda’s lips twitched upward. This was exactly the kind of scene she had been waiting for.
• “What game?” she asked.
• Edwin glanced around as more of his friends gathered. “It’s a win-win game. We’ll each call out an amount of money we’re willing to bet. Anyone who drops out is eliminated. The rest continue until there’s a winner.”
• His smirk deepened. “Remember—don’t bet what you can’t afford.”
• Without hesitation, a voice from the crowd rang out.
• “I bet ten thousand dollars!”