He didn’t.
He gave me a tight smile instead—the one he used whenever he wanted me to cooperate without making a scene.
Margaret tilted her head.
“Card is probably easiest.”
My hand rested on my purse.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “Are you asking me to pay for everyone?”
His father leaned back calmly.
“It’s something of a family tradition,” he explained. “When someone is serious about joining the family, they treat everyone to dinner.”
I let out a short laugh.
“A seven-thousand-dollar tradition?”
Ethan finally spoke—but not the way I hoped.
“Olivia,” he murmured, “just cover it for now. We’ll talk about it later.”
My chair scraped loudly against the floor as I turned toward him.
“You knew about this?”
He lowered his voice. “Don’t make this bigger than it is.”
That was the moment something inside me snapped.
All night I had ignored the warning signs—the comments, the extravagant ordering, the smug smiles every time another bottle arrived.
They had planned this.
Not just Margaret.
Not just the family.
Ethan too.
I opened my purse.
Margaret’s smile grew wider.
But the first thing I took out wasn’t a credit card.
It was my phone.
Ethan frowned. “What are you doing?”
I looked directly at Margaret.
“I just want to make sure I understand correctly. You invited me here, ordered thousands of dollars of food and drinks, and now expect me to pay for fifteen people because I’m engaged to your son?”
Her expression stiffened.
“No one is forcing you,” she said coolly. “We’re simply seeing what kind of woman you are.”
I tapped my phone.
A recording began playing.
Ethan’s voice filled the room.
“Hey babe, don’t stress about the dinner. My parents are covering everything. Just come smile and survive a couple hours.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
I placed my phone on the table.
“So either he lied to me,” I said calmly, “or this entire dinner was a setup.”
Ethan stood halfway up.
“Olivia—”
“No,” I cut in. “We’re past that.”
Margaret’s face drained of color.
Around the table people began exchanging uneasy glances.
Then I reached into my purse again.
And this time I pulled out a small velvet box.
Ethan turned pale immediately.
“Olivia… don’t do this here.”
I opened the box and slid the engagement ring across the table.
The diamond sparkled under the chandelier—bright, cold, and suddenly meaningless.
“You should’ve thought about that before bringing me here under false pretenses.”
Someone muttered, “This is getting dramatic.”