i believe in u & me. | 𝐌𝐉.

𝐈𝐗.

...

I BELIEVE IN U & ME.

( chapter nine • dinner with my (insane)
future mother-in-law.)

...

Esther's fingers nervously traced the edge of her black clutch as she followed Michael to the grand dining hall. The rich, wooden floors gleamed under the soft light of crystal chandeliers, and the air smelled faintly of cinnamon and something else—something almost too perfect to be real, like it was meant to mask the tension that seemed to thicken with every step they took.

"Hey, babe. Don't be nervous." Michael whispered, sensing her slightly scared energy and gave her right arm a reassuring squeeze. His voice was calm, and it soothed Esther. "Just... don't take anything my mother may say too personally, okay?"

Esther forced a smile. "I'll be fine, Michael. Don't worry."

But she was worried. Despite the pep talk she'd given herself and Cyrus gave her in the car, her stomach was still in knots. Alexandra LaFontaine was known for being difficult, but Esther hadn't fully grasped what that meant until now. The dry reception she received at the door had been just a taste. And now, she was about to sit down for what could be the most challenging meal of her life.

The dining room was as opulent as the rest of the house, with a long, polished table set with fine china and silverware that gleamed under the light. A massive floral arrangement sat in the center, all white roses and lilies, elegant but imposing, much like the woman who had likely chosen it.

Alexandra was already seated at the head of the table, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping rhythmically against her glass. She was a vision of grace and sophistication, with her micro braids swept into an elegant bun and a simple yet stunning red lacy dress that probably cost more than Esther's entire wardrobe. But her deep brown eyes, cold and calculating, were fixed on Esther, and the disapproval in them was unmistakable.

Maxwell, on the other hand, barely glanced up as they entered. He sat to Alexandra's right, sipping what looked like whiskey, his expression indifferent. He looked every bit the powerful businessman, his graying hair neatly combed, his suit immaculate. But there was a weariness to him, a sense that he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Mother, Father... can y'all greet Esther like y'all got some sense? She's here to have dinner with us tonight." Michael announced, his voice carrying a note of forced cheerfulness.

Alexandra's glossy brown lined lips curled into a thin smile. "Yes, I can see that."

"Good evening, Mrs. LaFontaine, Mr. LaFontaine," Esther greeted politely, trying to ignore the way Alexandra's gaze made her feel like she was being sized up and found wanting.

Maxwell gave a lazy grunt, barely acknowledging her presence. Alexandra, however, took her time, her eyes raking over Esther's appearance as if she were a bug under a microscope.

"Well, you certainly dressed up," Alexandra said finally, her tone dripping with condescension. "Well... I suppose that's the best one can expect these days."

Esther bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping back. She could feel Michael tense beside her, but before he could say anything, she forced herself to respond calmly.