That answer made Sir Victor's nostrils flare slightly. He sat back slowly in his chair, nodding as though preparing to say something heavier.
"Fine then," he said. "Since you can't help your brother, then help yourself. This friend-zone nonsense you're playing with Cora—it has to stop. You clearly have something for her, but you're pretending like you don't. So why don't you go for her? Hmm?"
He leaned forward again, voice low and challenging.
"Why don't you bring her into this family yourself?"
Right at that moment, Williams—who had just returned from pouring himself another glass of wine—choked as he overheard those words. A rough cough escaped his throat, and he nearly spilled the drink on his shirt.
The sound echoed through the room.
But not a single person looked at him.
Sir Victor's intense stare remained fixed on Oliver, unmoving, as though Williams didn't even exist at that moment.
