"Baby, what's wrong? Are you two arguing?"
When Mrs. Solis heard the crash of the plate, she hurried upstairs. Amanda closed her eyes for a moment, forcing her expression to soften. She didn't want her mother to see the darkness taking root in her heart.
"It's nothing, Mom. Is Diego still here?"
Mrs. Solis looked at her daughter suspiciously, but she didn't push. "Your brother just went out. Why? Did you need him for something?"
Amanda forced a stiff smile and shook her head. "No, I was just asking. It's late; I think I'll head to my room. You should get some rest too, Mom."
"Alright, go on then. Don't worry about me."
Amanda gave her mother a lingering hug before retreating to her room. The moment the door clicked shut, her face turned cold. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in years. After a few rings, a gravelly voice answered.
"I need you to follow someone. Investigate everything," Amanda said, her voice like ice. "The price doesn't matter. I want every detail of his life."
There was a pause on the other end. "Understood. Give me a week."
"Good."
Amanda hung up and sank onto her bed, the mental exhaustion finally catching up to her. She had thought she could stay calm in front of Javier, but the urge to tear him apart was harder to suppress than she'd imagined. But it wasn't time to strike yet. She didn't just want him to lose; she wanted him to pay a hundred thousand times over.
Her phone screen lit up. A notification appeared: Quentin Harris has accepted your friend request.
A spark of hope flashed in her eyes. She quickly typed: Can I come visit Grandpa tomorrow?
Quentin's reply came almost instantly: Yes.
Amanda's lips curled into a small, calculating smile. Javier's greatest obsession was the Harris family inheritance. In this life, she would make sure he never even got to touch it.
The next morning, Amanda prepared several high-end gifts and drove to the Harris estate. Wayne, the long-time butler, was already waiting at the gate with a welcoming smile.
"Butler Wayne! You're looking well," Amanda greeted him politely. Having watched her grow up, Wayne reached out and patted her head with fatherly affection.
"I'm doing just fine, Miss Amanda. Please, go on in. They've been waiting for you."
Amanda handed her gifts to a maid and followed Wayne toward the private lake behind the villa. There, an old man with silver hair sat peacefully, a fishing rod in his hand.
"Grandpa!" Amanda called out sweetly.
Mr. Harris turned, waving her over with a grin. "Come here, child. Sit with me."
Amanda sat obediently by his side. He handed her a spare rod, and she skillfully baited the hook—a skill she had learned years ago just to please him.
"Why are you here alone?" Mr. Harris asked, peering over his spectacles. "Where is Javier?"
"I missed you, Grandpa," Amanda teased, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Are you not happy to see me without him?"
The old man let out a hearty laugh. "It's been too long. Your tongue is getting sweeter every day."
"What are you two laughing about? The soup is already getting cold."
Amanda turned in surprise to see Quentin approaching. She had expected him to be at work until evening; she hadn't thought he'd be here in the middle of the afternoon. Quentin stopped a few paces away, looking down at Amanda's wide-eyed expression with a soft smile.
"We just saw each other yesterday," he murmured. "Is seeing me today really that shocking?"
Embarrassed that she'd been caught staring, Amanda looked away quickly. "I just... I didn't expect you to be home."
Mr. Harris leaned on his cane and stood up. "Let's go inside. Mandy, I had the chef prepare that fish dish you love."
As Amanda helped the old man walk back to the villa, Quentin followed a few steps behind, his eyes fixed on her back.
The Harris family dinner was uncharacteristically quiet but warm. Mr. Harris's eldest son—Javier's father—was an academic who cared little for the family business. His daughter lived abroad. That left Quentin as the sole pillar of the family, and the one Mr. Harris trusted most.
"Are you busy with filming these days, Mandy?" Mr. Harris asked, picking up a piece of braised pork.
"It's manageable. Why do you ask, Grandpa?"
"Next week is my birthday," the old man said, placing the pork in her bowl. "I was afraid you'd be stuck on set, so I wanted to check your schedule."
Amanda felt a pang of guilt. In her previous life, she had used his birthday party to announce her engagement to Javier. "Grandpa, even if I'm busy, I'll always have time for you."
"Good, good," he beamed.
As they continued eating, Amanda reached for her favorite fish dish. However, every time she went to pick a piece, the lazy Susan (the rotating table) would shift. She looked up to see Quentin silently and methodically rotating the table.
Mr. Harris reached for another piece of pork belly, only to find a plate of stir-fried greens in its place. He glanced at his son, then at the vegetables, his brow furrowed so deeply he could have crushed a fly between his eyes.
"Since when do you like greens so much?" the old man grumbled.
Quentin nodded calmly, chewing a piece of bok choy. "I'm trying to eat cleaner these days."
"If you want to eat clean, take the plate and go eat by yourself!" Mr. Harris snapped, reaching out to spin the pork back to him. Quentin, however, used his long arm to block the rotation.
"Don't touch it," Quentin said evenly. "It's too oily for you."
"Who gave you the right!" the patriarch roared.
Amanda watched the two most powerful men in the city bicker like children. She took advantage of the distraction to grab a large piece of fish. Suddenly—
"Cough! Cough!"
Amanda's eyes watered as a sharp pain hit her throat. She had swallowed a bone. Both men instantly stopped their argument and stared at her.
Quentin was on his feet in a second. He walked over to her side, his voice authoritative. "Open your mouth."
Amanda was dying of embarrassment, but she obeyed. Quentin inspected her throat, then scooped a spoonful of plain white rice and fed it to her. "It's a small bone. Swallow this rice; it will carry it down."
Amanda closed her eyes and swallowed hard, nearly choking on the rice, but the sharp pain finally vanished. Quentin let out a breath of relief and, without thinking, reached out and patted her head gently.
The touch was so tender that Amanda remained silent and flushed for the rest of the afternoon.
When it was time to leave, Quentin walked her to her car. He held the door open for her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Will you come back soon?"
Amanda hid her blushing face and smiled back. "Of course. It's fun hanging out with you and Grandpa."
Quentin raised an eyebrow. " 'Fun'? Your brother and I are the same age, yet you still call me 'Uncle.' "
Amanda blinked innocently. "I'm just used to it."
In both her lifetimes, he had always been a figure of immense power and authority. Calling him "Uncle" was the only way she knew how to show respect.
Quentin watched her drive away, letting out a silent sigh. I suppose I should have started 'teaching' her to see me differently a long time ago.