The tension between James and his mother lingered—who would believe that James had nothing to do with anything, that it was all just a coincidence?
Even he himself didn't fully believe it. He had made sure people knew his name, had used that special "power" to gain an advantage for himself.
Perhaps he would never have the peaceful life his mother wished for him. At least, not in this moment. Emotions swirled within him, and just as they threatened to overwhelm him, a soft knock sounded at the door.
James' body tensed instantly. His mind leapt to the worst-case scenario—who would knock at this hour?
God, please... let it be nothing. Please, don't let this be trouble.
He reached for the doorknob slowly, his other hand instinctively moving to his waist, as if reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. The motion alone might make him look armed, a useful bluff—though, hopefully, unnecessary.
The door creaked open, revealing Victor Moretti standing there, a broad grin on his face.
"Is something wrong, Victor?" James asked, his voice steady, but his pulse quickening.
Please, no. Please don't let it be bad news.
"No, no trouble," Victor chuckled. "I just thought I'd come in person to invite you to dinner—if you're free, of course." His grin remained, but James noticed something else—Victor's legs were trembling slightly.
Why are you shaking? James thought. He also realized his own hand was still resting on his waist, as if gripping a weapon.
James forced a smile. "Sure. What time should I be there?" He casually let his hand drop to his side.
"How about in an hour?"
I almost gave myself a heart attack thinking he was here to kill me. How could I be so stupid, thinking he'd just show up like that?
"Alright, I'll be there."
Victor hesitated for a moment before adding, "Sorry for dropping by unannounced, James. Hope I didn't startle you."
James let out a small laugh and patted Victor's shoulder. "No worries. I'll see you at eight."
Victor nodded, spun on his heel, and walked back to his car, his expression almost too bright—like someone who had just successfully asked out a crush.
James, however, felt anything but relaxed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why is he inviting me to dinner out of nowhere?
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth near the entrance.
They're going to kill me, aren't they? He's never invited me to dinner before. Hell, we barely talk. So why now?
He tried to think—What did I do? Then it hit him. The profit split. If I hadn't spoken up, he wouldn't have gotten anything. Or worse... the Circle would start falling apart.
A voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.
His mother's voice. James turned, already bracing for another argument. But to his surprise, it didn't come.
"I'm going to have dinner with a friend soon," he said, forcing a smile.
His mother stepped closer. James instinctively braced himself, expecting a slap, a sharp remark—something. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, warm embrace.
"No matter what I've said... I want you to know that I love you." She held him even tighter. "You and Rafael mean everything to me. I don't want anything to happen to you—"
"Nothing will, Mom," James murmured, returning the hug. It had been years since he last felt this kind of motherly warmth.
His mother suddenly let out a soft laugh. She touched his face gently, then ran a hand over his waist.
"You weren't lying." Her smile widened. "You don't have a gun on you."
James hadn't even realized it, but she was right.
"I'll iron your shirt," she said, pulling away. "Go take a shower."
James nodded, his chest feeling strangely light as he headed for the bathroom.
But even as the water ran over him, he couldn't shake the thought—
What the hell is Victor planning?
Well... in truth, Victor wasn't planning anything sinister at all. He simply wanted to get closer to James over dinner and introduce him to his family.
However, there was one crucial ingredient he had forgotten in his carefully crafted plan—his daughter.
Victor Moretti's wealth was so vast that no one could ever truly estimate it, just like the fortunes of the other Circle members. And with that wealth came a significant problem—Victor was rarely home, which meant he had little influence over raising his daughter.
The result? A spoiled, arrogant 18-year-old.
The surprising part was that Victor hadn't even noticed—at least, not until now.
Suddenly, it dawned on him that introducing James to his daughter could be a delicate situation. If things went badly, they would be walking a razor's edge.
At least, that's how it played out in his mind.
So, what did he do next to inform his daughter about the visitor?
"Penelope, put your phone down for a moment," Victor said as he sat down in the living room, where his daughter lay, eyes glued to her screen.
"Yes, Daddy?" She replied, locking eyes with him without even glancing away for a second.
"Well, a friend of mine is coming over for dinner, and I want to introduce you to him. That being said, I expect you to be on your best behavior and show him the utmost respect."
"Okay," She said fastly already back to scrolling through her phone.
Victor lingered for a moment, watching his daughter as she continued scrolling on her phone as if their conversation had never happened. He debated whether to say something more—maybe remind her again, make sure she actually understood—but he decided against it.
Instead, he turned and walked toward his office, pouring himself a drink as he mulled over the upcoming dinner.
James isn't someone to be taken lightly. If Penelope acts out, it could get awkward. But she's smart... she'll figure it out.
Or at least, he hoped so.
Meanwhile, Penelope barely registered the conversation. She had heard what her father said, but she wasn't particularly interested.
He had plenty of "friends" coming and going—businessmen, politicians, people she had no reason to care about, but most importtanly people who his dead brubed and had in his palms.
This next guy is probably just another one of them.
She sighed, locking her phone and stretching before getting up. If she was going to be forced into this dinner, she might as well make herself look presentable.
Penelope walked into her room, closing the door quietly behind her. The walls were lined with tasteful paintings, her vanity scattered with perfumes and jewelry, none of which she really cared about
.She wasn't one to pay much attention to her appearance, but she knew her father would expect her to at least look decent for whatever dinner was happening tonight.
She moved to her wardrobe and scanned through the dresses. Nothing felt right—too formal, too casual, too fussy. After a moment, she settled on a simple black dress. Nothing flashy, just easy.
Just then, her mother's voice came from the doorway.
"You're getting dressed up? For dinner?" Yena said, leaning against the frame with an almost amused look.
Penelope looked over at her mom, shrugging.
"Yeah, some guy Dad's friends with is coming over. Probably one of his business people. The usual. I don't know... doesn't really matter."
Yena raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem like you're too excited about it."
Penelope sighed, sitting down on her bed.
"It's always the same thing. Dad's friends come over, all of them talking about their companies or whatever, shaking hands and smiling. They're nice enough, but it's always a bit... well, boring. I just sit there, eat, nod, and then get back to whatever I'm doing."
Her mother gave a soft chuckle, walking toward the vanity. She picked up a bottle of perfume and spritzed it into the air before handing it to Penelope.
"Well, you're already looking fine. Just don't make it worse than it has to be."
Penelope took the perfume, spraying a little into the air.
"I'm not planning on making it hard for anyone. It's just... a dinner."
Yena gave her a thoughtful look. "Well, just try not to seem so... detached."
Penelope didn't respond, instead turning back to the mirror to adjust her dress. She didn't see the point in pretending, but she knew it was easier to just get through it.
Her mother gave her a final look before turning to leave. "All right, I'm sure you'll manage. Just don't do anything to upset your father, okay?"
Penelope gave a small, noncommittal nod. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine."
Her mother left the room, and Penelope was alone again. She let out a slow breath, staring at her phone.
This is going to be another long night.
And well James taught the same as he arrived at the mansion.