Chapter 3 The Humiliation

• “I bet fifteen thousand dollars!” another voice called.
• Edwin’s turn came. He smirked and said, “I make it fifty thousand dollars!”
• All eyes turned to Oliver. It was his turn to bet. The hall went quiet, waiting for his response.
• Miranda’s smile was faint but smug—if he failed, it would be his humiliation alone.
• “I bet… nothing,” Oliver said evenly.
• Laughter erupted around the table.
• “Come on, kiddo! This isn’t child’s play. This is business,” one of Edwin’s friends scoffed. “You call yourself a husband but can’t even take responsibility as a man?”
• Miranda’s hand clamped on Zora’s arm, holding her back from defending him.
• Oliver met their stares calmly. “Nobody asked if I was interested. You can’t expect me to join a game I have no interest in.”
• The guests exchanged glances. One man sneered. “I thought so. How can a college dropout afford such an amount? He’s a failure! He’ll never make it.”
• Sophie touched Edwin’s arm. “Come on, Edwin. Don’t blame Oliver. He’s poor and only depends on the little Miranda pays him. You can’t expect him to be interested in this game. Even in fifty years, he couldn’t afford that much. Just let him be, okay?”
• Zora moved to speak, but Miranda’s grip on her tightened again.
• “Miranda,” Sophie’s mother said with a dismissive wave, “take care of this amateur you call a son-in-law. We’ll return to our table.”
• They left without another glance.
• Zora leaned toward Oliver. “Are you okay?”
• He nodded once.
• Miranda, however, smiled thinly. “You piece of trash, when will you learn the easy way? Do you see your mates around here? Act mature.”
• Oliver stayed quiet, absorbing her words without retaliation. He and Zora exchanged a brief glance, then Miranda’s phone rang. The name flashing on the screen made her eyes widen.
• She answered sharply. “Hello.”
• “Miranda, Miranda!”
• “You…?” Her voice dropped.
• The caller’s laughter was mocking. “You couldn’t even handle the simplest thing. I left Zora in your care, and you failed.”
• “I’ll fix it—”
• “No need,” the voice cut in. “I’m on my way to the States. Expect me. And tell that useless teenage son-in-law to be ready for me in three days.”
• The line went dead.
• Miranda’s lips curled into a slow smile.
• “Is there a problem?” Zora asked.
• Miranda’s eyes shifted to Oliver. “There’s only one problem in our lives and that’s him. Sooner or later, he’ll be gone.”
• Oliver stiffened at her words. He didn’t know why she said it, but something told him whatever was coming would be worse than he expected.
• Before he could think more on it, the host’s voice rang through the hall. “And here, we have the woman of the year—Miranda Carson!”
• Miranda rose to her feet, glowing under the praise. Zora and Oliver stood too, but Miranda shot Oliver a sideways glance.
• “Did you hear her? She said Miranda Carson. You’re not a Carson, you’re a Smith. That means you’re not receiving this award with me. Zora, let’s go.”
• Zora hesitated, but her mother tugged her forward.
• From the stage, Oliver watched them, the spotlight glaring while he sat alone.
• Miranda accepted the award with practiced elegance. “On behalf of the Carson family, I thank everyone who voted for me as Woman of the Year. I’m also thrilled to announce that the Carson family will soon welcome back its greatest patriarch, Ronald Carson!”
• Zora’s eyes flicked to the side. Oliver froze mid-sip, the wine glass slipping from his fingers.
• Grandpa Ronald? Coming back? His mind jumped to their last meeting—how he’d had the man arrested and even sued him.
• “Grandpa’s coming back?” Zora asked, but Miranda ignored her and continued speaking.
• Then the presenter asked the question that made Miranda’s smile falter. “Mrs. Carson, can you tell us why your son-in-law isn’t here with you? Or… do you not have one?”
• The words hit her like a slap. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, forcing a bright tone, she replied, “Of course I do. I have a handsome son-in-law, and he’s here tonight.”
• “Call him on stage so he can be recognized,” the presenter urged.
• Miranda’s gaze slid toward Oliver and the fake golden necklace around his neck, worth nothing less than five hundred bucks.
• Her lips curved into a sly grin. “I am glad to announce my son-in-law, Mr…”