The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 52. Family Dinner.

"You’re late," Julius’ voice filled the dining room as soon as Alaric entered.

"And good evening to you too," Alaric said, pulling out a chair. "Hello, Uncle Gerald."

His uncle was seated close to his father, but he had a smile on his face—unlike his father. "How are you doing? Congratulations."

"Thank you," Alaric replied with a smile of his own.

Nobody should ask about Nicolette.

"Where is the wife?" Julius asked, his voice carrying a tone of disapproval.

Alaric reached for the bunch of berries in front of him and plucked one.

Think of something.

"She’s not feeling too well. She’s resting," he mumbled.

"Or she doesn’t want to spend time with our weird family?" Gerald teased.

But Julius didn’t get the joke. "Weird family? Is her goddamn family better than ours? Her father is a thief."

Alaric rolled his eyes. "Mom told you?"

"Of course she did," Julius replied. "Which is why I’m ready to talk about Olympus. We—"

"We’ll discuss that when dinner is over," Clara interrupted as she entered the room. She cast Alaric a look before sitting next to her husband.

Alaric’s brow furrowed as he remembered what his mother had done earlier.

"Where is your wife?" Clara asked, her voice raising with a trace of guilt.

His voice hardened. "What do you care?"

"We are not doing that tonight, please," Julius said, pointing a weak hand at both of them. "When Richy comes, we’ll eat like a big family."

"Minus one," Gerald added.

Alaric popped another berry into his mouth to stop himself from speaking. Anger simmered in his chest just from looking at his mother.

Gerald cracked a joke and they all laughed—except him. His mind was far too occupied.

He leaned back in his chair and pulled out his phone. He hadn’t attended to business all day, and though he knew now wasn’t the best time, he would rather be busy than join the conversation.

"Howdy people," Richard said as he entered.

Alaric lifted his head and tucked his phone into his suit jacket. "Welcome."

"How are you, Richard?" Clara asked, smiling warmly at him.

Richard gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I’m great." Then he pulled out a chair next to Alaric. "You good?"

"Meh," Alaric replied dully.

"Bring in the food," Clara said, shaking the small bell to call the waiters.

In no time, the table was full of food, and almost instantly, Alaric lost his appetite.

He didn’t want to be here. He knew that. He wanted to be home with his wife. But even that seemed like an impossible task, so he just popped more berries into his mouth.

"Is everything alright?" Clara asked, turning to face him. "You’re not eating."

"I’m not hungry," he replied.

"Fix that immediately," Julius warned, a frown creasing his forehead.

Alaric sighed and dished out a plate of steak and salad. "There."

"We haven’t had a proper dinner in a long time. Don’t ruin it for Gerald, he just got back," Julius said.

Alaric took a forkful of steak and chewed without interest.

"You’re not even trying," Richard chuckled.

"You know I don’t care," he replied. "Thank you, Richard. For Ronald."

"You’re welcome, as always," Richard replied with a smile.

"So," Alaric cut another forkful of steak. "It’s done? Cleared?"

"Yes. It was as if you were never there," Richard replied.

"Gentlemen, can we focus on eating? Please?" Clara interjected.

Alaric ignored her.

"What if he had a recording of the video before?"

Richard lowered his voice. "You can always claim it was doctored since he doesn’t have anything to back up his claim."

Alaric nodded, impressed by Richard’s statement.

At least that part had been covered. There was no point arguing with Ronald anymore.

"What other plans are in place to bring the other artists in?" Julius asked as he chewed.

Alaric looked at his father. "I’m still working on it. At least we got Alejandro back. We’ll get the rest."

"How did that even happen? How did you convince him?" Clara asked, her voice soft.

"Nicolette did," he uttered, waiting for their reactions.

At that moment, he felt proud of his actions. Proud of Nicolette.

Let them know she’s important.

"That’s actually nice," Gerald said, nodding.

"Yeah. She used to work with him," Alaric explained, pride seeping into his voice.

"Ah yes. I remember her," Julius said. "We were supposed to sell some of her collections. She was really good."

The pride deepened in his chest. "Yes. She is."

He hadn’t even seen her work, but now that his father had complimented her, he couldn’t wait to.

"I didn’t know she was an artist," Clara said, poking her plate.

He wanted to say something—something that would show his disappointment in her and her conniving with Violet.

But he thought against it.

"Yes," he said flatly.

"You should sign her under the house," Gerald suggested, reaching for his glass of water.

"Definitely. Once I put everything in place," he nodded.

His phone buzzed before he could add anything else. "Sorry," he said.

There were usually no phones at the table. One of his mother’s rules.

It was a missed call from Trainer, and his heart flipped.

Had Trainer found the culprit, or was Nicolette lying?

"Excuse me," he said, standing up.

"Don’t leave without seeing me, Ric," Julius said.

Alaric nodded and stepped into the hallway. He dialed Trainer’s number, his heart pounding as he waited for the call to connect.

He didn’t know what he wanted Trainer’s reply to be.

If Nicolette was right, it meant his trusted men couldn’t be trusted.

If she was wrong, it meant heartbreak. It meant she had invited Lucian Crawford.

It could also mean that sleeping with him didn’t matter—she would still be seeing Lucian.

Anger coursed through him at the thought.

Nicolette better be wrong. He couldn’t deal with sharing her with anyone.

"Hello, Boss." Trainer’s voice came through.

"Hit me with it," Alaric said, holding his breath, bracing himself for the impact.

"It was Joe."

Relief washed over him. Nicolette was right. She was right!

"Joe?"

"Yes, sir," Trainer replied. "Lucian Crawford paid him at the entrance. It was a one-time thing, sir."

Joe was one of his most loyal men, he had brought him from Australia.

Knowing Nicolette was right didn’t soften Joe’s betrayal.

"I want to talk to him when I get home," he said, his voice hard.

"Alright, sir," Trainer said and hung up.

He hadn’t even fully processed the blow when his mother joined him.

"Alaric."

He turned to her, his eyes narrowed. "Mother."

She stepped forward, her golden necklace gleaming under the chandelier lights. "I... my actions earlier were insensitive. I apologize."

His eyes softened at the sincerity in her voice. "Thank you for acknowledging that."

"I was just pissed that you didn’t want Violet," she admitted.

"Violet is strange. I think we can acknowledge that," he said firmly.

"I know. It’s just that I know her, and I don’t know..."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Maybe you should get to know Nicolette."

Clara’s eyes twinkled with a smile. "Maybe I should."

He nodded, realizing she was genuine. "But you didn’t have to tell Violet to drug me. That was extreme."

Clara gasped. "Drug you? What do you mean?"

His brow arched. Did she not know?

"I thought... you sent her to drug me," he said, his tone laced with confusion.

Clara’s eyes widened. "I would never ask her to do that. I... that’s..." She placed a hand on her chest, her lips trembling. Then anger gleamed in her eyes. "I’ll be back," she said and walked away.

Alaric shook his head, surprised that Violet had acted on her own.

He really did have to teach her a lesson.

Adjusting his jacket, he stepped back into the dining room. Gerald was talking and Richard and Julius were laughing.

Just as Alaric was about to sit down, his phone chimed with a message.

He reached for it and his eyes darkened. It was a message from an unknown number—but he already knew who it was.

"Well fucking done. I see you are ahead of your time. Let me just put it out there; this is not the end. It’s just the beginning."

His jaw clenched as he tucked the phone in his pocket.

Richard gave him a questioning look.

"Ronald," Alaric replied flatly.