Chapter 916: Chapter 916 Society
"We... we weren’t expecting someone like you. You certainly have a... reputation," he said, awkwardly trying to phrase his thoughts.
Ross chuckled softly.
"I understand. But tonight, I’m not here as a celebrity. I’m here simply as Carrie’s boyfriend, hoping to get to know the family that has raised the woman I care about."
Carrie’s mother gave a small, approving smile, while her father’s expression softened, though the protective glint in his eyes remained.
He could see the bond forming between Ross and Carrie, and while he wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet, he could at least appreciate that Ross was taking the introduction seriously.
Carrie, still slightly nervous, followed Ross into the living room.
Every step he took was careful, measured.
He wasn’t just here to charm her parents—he was here to make a lasting impression, to ensure that he and Carrie could continue their relationship without unnecessary friction.
Ross took a mental note of the layout of the house, the little details that would help him navigate the evening: which chairs were closest to her parents, where he could place himself to appear respectful yet engaged, and how he could subtly steer the conversation to make everyone feel at ease.
As they all settled into their seats, Ross leaned slightly toward Carrie, whispering just enough for her to hear, "Don’t worry, I’ve got this."
Carrie’s hand tightened around his for a moment, her heart swelling with both excitement and relief.
Tonight was a big step, but with Ross’s calm confidence and the charm that seemed to ooze effortlessly from him, she felt... ready.
And in his mind, Ross was already planning his next moves—small gestures, clever compliments, subtle reassurances—to ensure that by the end of the night, Carrie’s parents would see him not just as a man in a headline, but as the man who truly cared for their daughter.
The family ate together in silence at first.
The clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair seemed louder than usual, filling the heavy air that no one dared to break. Carrie sat stiffly beside Ross, glancing nervously at her parents, while Ross remained composed, his presence calm but commanding.
It wasn’t until the wine was poured generously, glass after glass, that the tension began to shift.
The rich drink loosened tongues, and little by little, words began to flow.
Carrie’s mother asked about the food, Carrie tried to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, and Ross offered polite replies.
Even so, beneath the surface, unease lingered like a shadow at the table.
Carrie’s father, Russell, drank the most.
His cheeks grew redder, his voice louder, and his restraint thinner with every sip.
Though he laughed at a few passing remarks, his gaze often fell upon Ross, sharp and full of a father’s suspicion.
It was clear the wine wasn’t softening him—it was fueling him.
Finally, after one long pull from his glass, Russell set it down with a thud and leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
His tone was deceptively casual, though the weight behind it was unmistakable.
"Tell me, Ross," he asked, his words slightly slurred but his intent clear, "how long have you been seeing my daughter?"
The table went still. Carrie’s mother shifted uneasily, while Carrie’s face drained of color.
Ross, however, remained composed. He lifted his eyes from his plate, calm as ever, and met Russell’s gaze directly.
"A little over a month, Russell," he said evenly, without hesitation.
Russell froze.
For a moment, his jaw worked soundlessly, the truth of those words striking him harder than he expected.
He turned toward Carrie, his only child, his pride and joy, and what he saw made his heart tighten.
She wasn’t shrinking back in embarrassment or denying it—she sat there, her hand brushing close to Ross’s on the table, her eyes filled with quiet determination.
She had already made her choice.
Russell’s hand trembled slightly as he gripped his glass again. He wanted to shout.
To forbid her from seeing this man.
To demand answers about the rumors—that Ross was dangerous, untrustworthy, a man with dozens of women already wrapped around him.
He wanted to protect her from making what he was sure was the greatest mistake of her life.
But when he opened his mouth, no words came.
His throat locked up, choked with emotions he couldn’t release.
All he could do was stare at his daughter, the girl he had raised and sheltered so carefully, and watch her slip further out of his grasp.
He forced himself to swallow down the bitter feelings, draining another gulp of wine instead.
His smile came tight, strained, almost brittle.
Inside, though, his heart was torn between fury and despair.
Carrie, sensing his struggle, reached out and lightly touched his arm.
"Dad..." she said softly, her voice carrying both a plea and a warning.
Ross, sitting quietly beside her, said nothing more.
His calm silence spoke louder than any words—he wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t backing down.
He knew he was being judged, and he welcomed it without flinching.
Russell clenched his jaw and looked away, his knuckles white around the stem of his glass.
He didn’t trust Ross. He didn’t like him.
But for the sake of his daughter’s happiness, at least for this night, he forced the storm inside him to remain buried.
For now.
Russell drowned himself in wine, glass after glass, until his body could take no more.
His words became slurred, his laughter hollow, and soon he collapsed into the sofa, too drunk to lift himself again.
Carrie’s mother rose quietly, her expression calm though her movements betrayed the heaviness in her heart.
With steady patience, she helped her husband to his feet, guiding him upstairs step by step.
His weight leaned against her shoulders, and though she had carried such burdens before, there was weariness etched into the lines of her face.
It was nearly ten minutes before she returned.
When Alexa reentered the room, her eyes still held the faint exhaustion of tending to her drunken husband.