?Chapter 775:


    Choosing his words carefully, Marc answered in a mild tone, “Mr. Briggs, this is nothing formal. We’re just sharing a meal as acquaintances. No need for stiffness.”


    He shifted his attention to the waiter lingering by the door. “Bring another chair and a full setting for Mr. Briggs.”


    Marc’s attempt at courtesy went unanswered. William’s eyes never left Ste. Under the weight of his gaze, Ste lifted her head atst, though her reluctance was clear.


    For a heartbeat, Ste faltered.


    William’s look carried depth and a quiet sting, as though he were silently using her of once again sitting at Marc’s table.


    “Mr. Briggs, an honor to meet you!” Emerson rose hastily. His voice betrayed the unease William’s arrival had stirred.


    With a softer tone, William turned toward Emerson. “The pleasure’s mine. I’d just wrapped up a meeting with some friends and heard that you and Ms. Russell were here. I thought I’d stop in to pay my respects. I trust I’m not intruding?”


    Though William’s words carried courtesy, his presence alone seemed to draw the atmosphere of the private room several notches lower.


    “Of course not, Mr. Briggs. We’re honored you could join us!” Emerson said brightly, shaking William’s hand before ushering him to take a seat.


    Naturally, the empty chair ced for William ended up at Ste’s side, directly across from Marc.


    Once he settled, everyone at the table—except Ste and Steven—lifted their sses to toast his arrival.


    William joined in with easyughter, his tone warm, never unting superiority. To Steven’s surprise, he even carried himself as though he were an old friend among them.


    But no matter how lightly he spoke, William’s eyes clung to Ste without break. Steven couldn’t tell if Ste realized, yet he did, and unease crept over him until it felt like he was sitting on thorns.


    This dinner wasn’t simply a gathering; it had turned into a battlefield of affections. Marc, once Ste’s lover, sat on one side, while William still vied for her heart, precariously holding the role of something like a boyfriend. The sh between past and present promised nothing less than sparks.


    Marc seemed to catch William’s motive the moment he entered. Determined not to yield, he shifted tactics. Instead of hovering close to Ste, he poured his energy into extolling her abilities, again and again reminding Emerson of how well he understood her.


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    As William reached across the table to serve Ste some food, Marc cut in with practiced ease. “Stel’s not a fan of foie gras.”


    William’s hand paused midair, and for the first time that evening, he turned and leveled Marc with a direct look.


    A dull ache pressed behind Ste’s temples. She dreaded a scene. Before William could reply, she stepped in quickly, her tone even. “Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Briggs. But I can manage.”


    She silently hoped everyone else would take William’s gesture as nothing more than polite courtesy.


    But William raised a brow, circling back with deliberate persistence. “Not a fan of foie gras?” he asked, as though unwilling to let the matter drop.


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