THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 46

At that moment, Oliver stood still by the entrance, one brow slightly raised, as his eyes moved between the two men seated before him. The air in the room felt heavier than usual, as if something had been simmering for a while and was now on the verge of boiling over. He tilted his head slightly, confusion laced in his tone.

"Okay... this is unexpected. Why are you both sitting here like this? Did something happen? Or are we suddenly pretending I care about boardroom politics now?"

He let out a half-hearted chuckle, trying to lighten the tension, but no one laughed.

Williams glanced at him with a smirk and leaned back comfortably, arms folded over his chest. "You always think everything revolves around business, don’t you? What’s wrong with a father and son waiting for their youngest to come home for once, hmm? We just want to talk. As a family. You act like that’s illegal."

Oliver narrowed his eyes. "You two? Wanting to talk as a family?" He gave a dry laugh. "That sounds more suspicious than comforting."

Sir Victor, who had been quiet until now, suddenly slammed his palm against the armrest of his seat. The sharp sound echoed through the living room, forcing Oliver’s gaze to snap in his direction.

"And that right there is why I’m always so disappointed in you," the old man said with grit in his voice. "You treat this family like it’s some unwanted obligation. All you ever think about is what makes you comfortable. Your peace, your time, your little distractions! Never what the family name carries, or the weight of responsibility we all bear!"

Oliver didn’t respond. He just stood there, unmoved, his jaw clenched slightly.

Victor sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his forehead like someone battling an oncoming headache. "But I didn’t call you here to argue. Not this time."

Williams nodded as if agreeing for once. "Yeah. We can fight later. Right now, you need to sit."

Still hesitant, Oliver stepped forward and slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch. He crossed one leg over the other, resting an arm along the backrest and looking at both of them with a neutral stare.

"Alright," he muttered. "I’m here. I’m seated. What exactly is this important topic that needs all three of us like it’s some family crisis?"

Sir Victor straightened in his seat, clasping both hands together on his lap as his voice came out low but steady.

"It is about Cora."

At that moment, upon hearing what his father just said, Oliver leaned slightly forward, his eyebrows pulling together in a mix of curiosity and confusion. He blinked once, twice—processing the name that had just been mentioned.

"Wait, what about Cora?" he asked, his tone sharp but not aggressive. "Why is Cora’s name coming up now, out of the blue? Is she alright? Did something happen to her?"

There was a pause.

Sir Victor’s eyes narrowed as he waved a dismissive hand. "You and your questions," he muttered. "Just keep quiet and listen for once. Always jumping to conclusions before hearing the full story—exactly what makes you so damn frustrating."

Williams glanced sideways at their father but said nothing. He had learned long ago to let Sir Victor vent before speaking.

The old man took a breath, leaned back against the cushion, and looked Oliver dead in the eye.

"You act like you care so much about that girl, yet you’ve never done anything concrete to show it. You brood, you walk around with that cold face, but when it matters, you disappear. That’s what gets on my nerves."

Oliver remained silent now, slightly tense but trying not to show it.

Sir Victor tapped the edge of the coffee table with one finger, as if emphasizing each word. "Let me just go straight to the point. This isn’t gossip or casual talk. You already know, don’t you, that Cora has officially divorced that good-for-nothing she called a husband?"

Oliver gave a short nod. "Yeah. I know. It was all over the media. And she told me herself."

Sir Victor’s face lit up slightly, as if pleased that Oliver was at least aware. He nodded. "Good. So you know. That makes this easier."

Williams leaned forward now too, a smug look creeping across his face.

"That means the timing couldn’t be better," their father continued. "This is our chance. Our family’s chance. To bring Cora into this family once and for all."

Oliver frowned. "Excuse me?"

Sir Victor didn’t flinch. "You heard me clearly. This is not the time to play soft, or act confused. You might think it’s just a coincidence, but this is a long-awaited opportunity we must take. A second chance."

He stood up slowly, pacing now as his voice deepened with urgency. "Cora is not just any woman. She’s smart. Ambitious. Respected. And she knows the business world better than most men I’ve met. Bringing her into this family isn’t just about marriage. It’s about securing the future of our name. Our legacy."

Oliver’s brows tightened. "So... you’re telling me you want me to—what—go and propose to her? Immediately? Just because she’s single again?"

Sir Victor shot him a glare. "Don’t twist my words like a child. I’m not forcing anything—yet. But I am saying you need to stop standing on the sidelines. And no more of that ’we’re just friends’ nonsense either."

He looked from one son to the other now. "And if you won’t do anything about it," he said, turning to Oliver, "then what about your brother Williams? He’s not friends with her, is he?"

At that moment, hearing what his father just said, Oliver leaned back in his chair, exhaled deeply, and slowly shook his head—his disappointment plain and heavy. He looked at his father, then at Williams, then back at his father again. It was like his thoughts were screaming, Out of all the people in the world, out of every man in this city, you choose him?

He couldn’t hold it in.

"Seriously?" he finally said, his voice calm but edged with disbelief. "You’re talking about Williams?"