Judith let out a light laugh. “How quaint—to dress basic requirements up as contributions.”
Brandon laughed along with her. Diana noticed. She stayed silent.
Judith raised her glass higher. “We don’t invest in uncertainty. If you intend to marry my son, there will be a contribution. One hundred thousand dollars. Paid before any engagement announcement.”
Before Diana could speak, Judith snapped her wrist. Red wine arced through the air and splattered across Diana’s face, hair, and dress. A sharp intake of breath moved around the table. A fork clattered to the floor. Brandon smiled—not awkwardly, not apologetically, but with clear amusement.
“Just sanitizing the poor,” Judith said cheerfully. “A bit of humor keeps things lively.”
Wine dripped onto the pristine white tablecloth. The room smelled of grapes and disgrace.
Diana calmly reached for her napkin and wiped her face with deliberate care. Her hands were steady. She set the napkin down and looked at Judith, then at Brandon.
“So this is amusing to you,” she said quietly.
Brandon shrugged. “My mother likes to test people. It’s tradition. Don’t take it personally.”
Judith leaned forward. “So—will you pay? Or admit you don’t belong?”
The silence that followed was heavy. Inside, Diana felt an unexpected calm, like still water settling.
