Peter's eyes widened, genuine shock cutting through his usual stoicism. He hadn't expected me to reject the contract outright.
"The Matthews family has been in decline for years," he said slowly, studying my face. "Their market value dropped to mere tens of billions last year. Are you certain you don't want this opportunity?"
Despite my years married to Amelia, Peter had never truly viewed me as a Gilbert. In his eyes, I remained a risk—someone likely to funnel resources back to my own bloodline at the first opportunity.
I held his gaze, keeping my expression earnest.
"To say I'm not tempted would be a lie," I admitted. "But as I said, I married into the Gilbert family. I am a Gilbert now. How could I take resources meant for this company and use them to subsidize the Matthews? I'm not one of those short-sighted fools who bite the hand that feeds them."
Appreciation flickered through Peter's eyes. The tension in his shoulders eased.
"Very well," he said, his tone warming. "Since my grandson-in-law has such integrity, I will give you something else."
He paused, expression turning serious. "As a member of this family, you need a stake in the company. There's a board meeting at month's end. Prepare yourself. When the time comes, I will cast my vote for you."
I bowed my head slightly—neither servile nor arrogant. "I won't let you down."
He reached out and patted my shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "Support Amelia well. She may be confused right now, but deep down, she still has you in her heart."
Despite everything Amelia had done, she remained the sole heir to the Gilbert dynasty. Peter had no choice but to hope.
I nodded obediently, masking the cold calculation in my eyes. "Amelia is my wife. Supporting her is my duty."
Inheriting everything she owns... that is also my duty.
The moment the banquet concluded and guests dispersed, the facade crumbled.
Smack!
The sharp crack echoed in the empty hallway. My head snapped to the side, cheek stinging with sudden heat. Amelia stood before me, face twisted in a scowl.
"You really are good at pretending, aren't you?" she hissed.
I touched my cheek, feigning surprise. "What?"
She let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, husband. Did you think playing the 'magnanimous saint' would change my mind?" Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't make a scene today, so I thought you'd changed. I didn't expect your methods to be even dirtier than before."
I remained silent, knowing exactly where this was going.
Amelia shoved her phone in my face—a call log showing a recent conversation with her grandfather.
"I brought Damien to the banquet, and immediately after, Grandpa called to scream at me. He even snatched the contract from my hands and gave it to you." She glared, voice dripping venom. "Do you dare tell me this wasn't your doing?"
So she'd misunderstood again. As always.
"Think whatever you want," I said flatly.
Amelia froze. The old Samuel would have panicked—terrified of being misunderstood, spending hours begging her to listen.
She searched my face for the desperation that wasn't there. When she didn't find it, she scoffed.
"Since you refuse to be obedient, don't blame me for embarrassing you."
I assumed she meant another shopping spree with Damien to spite me.
I was wrong.
On the day of the board meeting, Damien swaggered into the conference room like he owned the place.
He walked past me, smug grin plastered on his face, and sat directly beside Amelia.
"I've resigned from the hospital," he announced, voice loud enough for the room. "President Gilbert recommended me for a seat on the board. From now on, we're colleagues."
The voting commenced.
My nomination passed unanimously. Peter's influence was absolute.
Damien barely scraped by. Only Amelia's faction voted for him.
He didn't seem to care about the slim margin. Entry was victory regardless of numbers. He leaned over, whispering loud enough for me to hear: "It took you ten years to get a seat on the board. I did it in half a month. The winner isn't decided yet, Samuel."
At the head of the table, Peter's expression turned thunderous.
The Gilbert Corp board was not a place for stray dogs. Worse, Damien was a Blackwood—a relative of the very people who had nearly destroyed the Gilbert family ten years ago.
Amelia wasn't just young; she was blind.
She caught my eye and raised a brow. A silent challenge: This is the price of your disobedience.
I held her gaze, expression unreadable. As long as your little pet stays obedient, that's fine by me.
Walking out of the office, Amelia stopped me with a patronizing pat on my shoulder.
"I'm flying to the Middle East tomorrow," she said breezily. "You and Damien need to get along. Remember to guide him. Show him the ropes."
I lowered my eyes to hide the darkness swirling within.
Around us, the other directors exchanged awkward glances. The absurdity was palpable—a wife ordering her husband to mentor her lover. A humiliation unheard of in our circle.
"Understood," I said quietly.
Peter Gilbert's face darkened, humiliation tight in his jaw. He leaned on his cane, glaring at his granddaughter.
Amelia remained unfazed. She leaned close, her whisper venomous against my ear.
"Grandpa is old. He can't protect you forever. Don't try anything."
My affection for her had withered years ago. Her threats stirred nothing. I kept my expression neutral.
"Fine. I won't make things difficult for Damien. I'll even ensure he's taken care of."
The moment Amelia left the building, Damien began his purge.
Under the guise of "cost-cutting," he targeted the core management team—veterans who had built this company. He called them "idlers" who were just muddling through.
When these loyal employees came begging for intervention, I put on my mask of helplessness.
"It's Amelia's direct order," I sighed. "I can't interfere. I may be her husband, but I'm still an outsider here."
To prove it, I called Amelia on speakerphone in front of them.
"Damien fired the company's core personnel," I said. "Now—"
"If he wants to fire them, let him." Her voice cut sharp. "Those leeches are useless anyway. Stop staring at Damien all day and worry about yourself."
The call ended. I shook my head at the devastated employees.
"You heard her."
In three days, Gilbert Corp's heart was ripped out. Seventy to eighty percent of core staff departed. Panic spread to small shareholders, who dumped their stock in a frenzy.
Perfect.
My mother hired every dismissed employee at high salaries. Simultaneously, she acquired the shares panicked investors sold.
Those scattered shares amounted to ten percent. Combined with the twenty percent I received when I married in, I was now the largest single shareholder.
Moments after I signed the custodianship agreement with my mother, the office door swung open. Damien barged in.
"Samuel, you're fired."
I raised an eyebrow, looking past him to Amelia. Her expression was cold.
"I told you to behave," she said. "But you insisted on making things difficult for Damien."
