THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 300

But before she could find the words or the strength—to speak up, her father’s calm, deliberate voice broke through the tension.

"Well," her father said, his eyes still on Oliver, "it is very nice of you to actually come with a gift." His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel either. More like carefully measured. "Like you may have heard already... I don’t usually accept gifts."

He paused, and Cora’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into her palms.

"...Because, truth be told," he continued, "most times, they’re irrelevant. They rarely meet my interests or standards."

At that moment, Cora’s father slowly nodded, his voice calm but firm. "However," he said, his eyes fixed on Oliver, "you coming here for the very first time, seeing me face-to-face for the very first time, and choosing to bring a gift along it is, I must say, quite commendable." His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It was the voice of a man who was curious. "Even though I don’t usually accept gifts, because more often than not they are either irrelevant or fail to align with my interests," he added, "I’m still curious. I want to know what kind of gift you brought."

His words sent a small ripple of tension through the room. anyone could hear Clinton’s soft scoff, and then a stifled laugh escaping from Uncle Festus, who didn’t even try to hide his amusement. He was already shaking his head and muttering, "This one... this one is something else."

Clinton, emboldened by his father’s amusement, leaned forward slightly and chuckled. "Come on," he said, looking directly at Oliver with a condescending grin. "What’s inside that little wooden box? Let me guess. It’s too small to be a wine bottle, too large for a pen... maybe it’s a wristwatch?" He shrugged. "No, can’t be. There’s no way a guy like you could afford the kind of watch my uncle would wear."

He threw a smug look at Oliver, then added with a grin, "Maybe sunglasses? Or perhaps a pair of cufflinks? Wait maybe a keyholder with his initials on it?" Clinton laughed again, this time nudging his father. "It has to be something cheap."

Uncle Festus was now laughing even louder. "Oh, don’t mind us," he said, waving his hand as if to excuse his mockery. "I apologize in advance, but you see...like I said before it’s been ages since my brother accepted a gift from anyone. People try, but they always get it wrong." He leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "So you see, your attempt is just... very entertaining. Because my brother is not exactly the easiest man to please. And watching someone try, especially someone this young, is just—" He shook his head and laughed again. "It’s amusing, to say the least. I just can’t help myself."

Cora, standing beside Oliver, clenched her jaw, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her fingers curled into gentle fists at her sides. She looked at her uncle and cousin, then glanced at Oliver. She knew exactly what they were trying to do chip away at his confidence, break him with humiliation before anything serious could even begin. Their laughter wasn’t just at the gift it was at the thought that someone like Oliver dared to enter this house with pride.

Cora’s stomach tightened. She had warned him. She had begged him to keep the gift idea to himself. Her father was picky, unforgiving when it came to such things. If Oliver’s gift fell short in any way and it probably would it wouldn’t just be rejected. It would be used as ammunition against him, against them.

Again her eyes flicked down toward the small wooden box in Oliver’s hand. Her heart beat fast. In a moment of panic, she leaned in just slightly, gently nudging Oliver’s back with her finger. It wasn’t obvious, but it was firm enough—’a silent plea: Don’t do it. Please stop. Just say sorry and let it go. Let’s leave in peace.’

But Oliver didn’t even flinch. He didn’t look back at her, didn’t respond to the signal she just gave. Instead, he remained perfectly still, calm and collected, with a small smile on his face. Then, slowly, he looked up at Cora’s father and said with quiet confidence:

"I believe, sir, that you’ll definitely love this gift."

Then Oliver continue.

"After so many good words Cora said about you, after so many discussions, so many things that Cora actually, all the hints she kept dropping, all the warnings, and even the advice she gave me... that was when I actually picked out what you would like, yes. i actually took my time."

He didn’t make a hasty decision. He didn’t rush to the market or pick something off the shelf carelessly. No. He thought hard. He took it seriously. And after careful thinking, after measuring everything Cora had told him about how difficult, particular, and picky her father was he still made his choice.

Because deep down, he believed. He believed that no matter how high the expectations were, there had to be something just something that could reach the man’s heart.

Oliver continued with a calm but confident smile.

"I knew this gift might look small, but it’s ordinary. this box doesn’t contain something expensive just to impress. It contained something thoughtful. Something with meaning. Something chosen from the heart, not from the wallet."

Then at that moment, without wasting any more time, he then open the box.

The room fell even quieter than before. The air grew tight. The tension was visible. Even Cora, who had earlier tried to pinch him to stop to just say sorry and avoid humiliation froze completely. Her eyes widened, and her hand stopped mid-air. It was too late now.

Immediately Uncle Festus leaned in immediately, narrowing his eyes like someone trying to understand what he was seeing. The smirk on his face froze for a second. His laughter paused. His brows knit together as he blinked at the object inside the box.

Even Clinton, who had been holding back his own giggles, stop immediately

And then they said.

"So this is the gift"