The clink of silverware and soft murmurs of staff set a refined backdrop to the dinner, but beneath the polished surface of porcelain and gold-rimmed glasses, tension simmered—at least for Luna.
Seated beside the world-famous Edward Sola, she found herself hyper-aware of every movement.
He was calm, poised, listening with polite attentiveness, but his presence alone was enough to make her posture stiffen and her voice come out more cautiously.
Her cousins, on the other hand, had no intention of letting the evening pass uneventfully.
"So, Luna," Sebas said smoothly between sips of wine, his tone pleasant but edged, "since you're taking such an interest in the family business, what are your thoughts on vertical integration in renewable logistics?"
Luna blinked at him, then at the table.
Seriously? That's your move?
She gave a small shrug and calmly set down her fork. "It's a solid strategy, if you've got the capital. Ensures more control over the supply chain. But only if the infrastructure you're investing in has enough flexibility to pivot when resource demand shifts. Otherwise, you're just tying yourself to liabilities."
Her cousin blinked, surprised.
Cass leaned in with a smirk. "And how about international expansion, specifically across regions with developing infrastructure?"
Luna leaned back slightly. "Depends on the region. If you're talking South Asia, I'd start with public-private partnerships instead of direct entry. Push community-driven microgrids and fund training for locals. Build loyalty before profits. It scales slower but sustains longer."
Even Emmerich looked up, brow slightly raised, eyes narrowing—not with disapproval, but with astonished curiosity.
Edward's gaze, previously polite, sharpened with quiet intrigue.
Luna, oblivious, twirled her water glass between her fingers, growing more animated. "Honestly, everyone's missing the real goldmine. If I had capital—and I guess technically now I do—I'd invest in underfunded neighborhoods. Set up skill hubs, mentorships. It's not charity—it's strategic talent farming. You empower people, they create solutions. Everyday life gets easier, and boom—new market trends emerge organically."
The table had fallen completely silent.
She glanced around, noticing for the first time that every eye was on her.
Emmerich looked both stunned and deeply thoughtful.
Edward had leaned slightly closer, clearly taking mental notes.
Her cousins?
Speechless.
Luna froze mid-sentence, suddenly very aware of how long she'd been talking.
"…So," she said, voice rising in awkward pitch, "who wants dessert?"
A moment of stunned silence.
Then Emmerich let out a quiet chuckle, the kind that rarely escaped him. "You remind me of your mother more and more."
Luna flushed to the tips of her ears. "I—uh—yeah, I should probably… stop talking."
Edward smiled, slow and genuinely intrigued. "On the contrary," he said, voice like smooth granite, "you've given me more ideas in five minutes than most consultants do in a week."
Luna blinked.
Wait, was that a compliment? From Edward freaking Sola?
Her cousins stared at their plates, looking vaguely like they had bitten into lemons.
Luna cleared her throat, gripping her water glass with both hands. "...So. Dessert?"
After dessert was served and conversation resumed at a lighter pace, Sebas leaned in with that same oily charm and said, "Uncle. Why don't we excuse ourselves for a bit? There's something we urgently need to go over with you regarding the Eastern Project's portfolio. Might only take a few minutes."
Emmerich arched a brow, sensing their true motive but entertained it with mild interest.
Before he could answer, Cass added, "In the meantime, Luna can show Edward to the entertainment room. Maybe play a few rounds of darts. It'd be a shame for him to miss how good she is."
Luna blinked, instantly on alert. Her cousins were plotting something again. Obviously.
Emmerich turned to her with a gentler expression. "Is that alright with you, Luna?"
Luna hesitated, then looked at Edward. "If... Edward doesn't mind being absolutely destroyed in darts, I'm okay with it."
Edward gave a soft chuckle and stood, brushing an invisible speck from his suit jacket. "It would be an honor to be obliterated by someone so refreshingly honest."
Her cousins looked less than pleased as Luna led Edward out of the dining room and down the corridor toward the entertainment room.
The darts board gleamed under the recessed lighting. Luna grabbed her set of darts, gesturing toward the rack. "You can pick from any of those. They're balanced but I like mine pointier."
Edward examined the sets thoughtfully, finally choosing one before stepping up beside her. "I've never done this in a suit," he said with a light grin. "Might ruin my streak."
"Oh, so you do play?" she teased, lining up her shot and landing dead center. "Guess I won't go easy, then."
They began playing in turns, the rhythm of throws gradually giving way to a conversation deeper than either of them expected.
"The poor aren't just a market," Luna said after a bullseye. "They're the future labor force, thinkers, makers. The entire system collapses if we don't feed the base of the pyramid."
Edward tilted his head. "You're not wrong. But there's a danger in assuming investment always equals uplift. You also need structural change—education, infrastructure, safety nets."
Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. I think the 'change' part should be mutual though. People hate top-down control. It's why a lot of well-meaning programs fail."
He threw, narrowly missing the center. "So, you believe in grassroots innovation more than institutional reform?"
"I believe both should dance together. Otherwise, we end up with broken systems—or worse, dependency traps."
The conversation wove on through the rounds. They debated automation's role in economic displacement, the ethics of patent monopolies, and the potential of cooperative micro-funding models in underbanked areas.
Luna, realizing how naturally the conversation flowed despite their differing views, lowered her next dart. "You know, this is weirdly fun."
Edward glanced at her with a smile. "You've shifted my thinking on two topics tonight. That almost never happens."
Luna smirked. "Guess it's my mutant power."
Their next few rounds were less competitive, more rhythmic—punctuated with insights, quiet nods, and shared grins at surprising common ground.
By the end of their game, Luna found herself genuinely enjoying Edward's company—not as some intimidating billionaire, but as a sharp-minded peer with whom she could challenge and grow.
"Good game," Edward said as she bested him by twenty points.
"Good convo," she replied, lowering her dart. "Didn't expect to rewrite my ideas on institutional capital tonight."
He chuckled. "You make a habit of surprising people, don't you?"
Luna rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Maybe. Just don't let my cousins know I'm useful, they might actually try to recruit me."
Edward gave her a look that lingered—curious, impressed. "Too late."
Just then, footsteps echoed from the hall. Her cousins were back, looking tight-lipped and possibly more irritated than before.
Luna raised a brow at them. "Done conspiring?"
They didn't answer, but Edward did. "We were just finishing up a fascinating discussion. I think your cousin's insights could be worth hearing more often."
Luna blinked, slightly stunned.
Her cousins looked like they'd swallowed sour lemons again.
As the game wrapped up, Edward checked his sleek wristwatch and offered Luna a polite smile. "If you'll excuse me, I think I owe your father a proper conversation. He's been very generous this evening."
Luna nodded. "Sure."
Edward chuckled softly before turning and heading back down the corridor toward the study, where Emmerich waited, sipping a glass of after-dinner bourbon.
No sooner had Edward left than Luna's cousins turned on her like synchronized vultures, eyes sharp with curiosity veiled as mockery.
"All jokes aside," Sebas began, arms crossed, "how the hell do you know all that?"
"Yeah," Cass added, "we looked into your background, you know. Dropped out of college, worked two jobs, lived in a matchbox apartment—barely enough to eat."
Their tones weren't cruel, but they were pointed—frustrated more than anything, like they'd uncovered a puzzle they couldn't solve.
Luna tilted her head and gave them a slow blink, deadpan. "Guess the cat café had a subscription to Forbes Weekly."
Sebas frowned. "We're serious."
She leaned against the doorway with a casual grace that only irritated them further. "So am I. I serve coffee, scoop cat litter, and listen to million-dollar business podcasts while feeding Milo. Real origin story stuff."
"You're mocking us."
Luna sighed with a tired smile. "No, I'm protecting my peace. You two ran background checks on me—like I'm the problem—and now you're mad I didn't conveniently stay dumb?"
They looked away at that, stiff and silent.
She gathered her things, stretching. "Goodnight, geniuses. Don't strain too hard trying to fit me in your neat little boxes."
With that, she left the entertainment room and walked the quiet halls of the manor back to her bedroom, her footsteps light, her heart unexpectedly… full.