Chapter 52: Chapter 52 Dinner with the Moores
Aria’s POV
When I emerged from the building nearly two hours later, exhausted and eager to finally tackle my project proposal at home.
I was startled to see the Moores’ Mercedes still parked at the curb.
The door opened immediately, and Mrs. Moore herself stepped out, moving to take my arm with surprising energy for someone her age.
"Miss Smith! You work far too hard. I’m certain you haven’t eaten dinner, have you?" Her concern felt achingly genuine. "Please, let us treat you to a proper meal before you go back to working."
"That’s right," Mr. Moore added, his tone serious. "We noticed the entire building cleared out over an hour ago. We’ve been quite worried about you pushing yourself like this."
Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had waited for me. Worried about me. The warmth of it was almost overwhelming, and I found myself blinking rapidly against the sting in my eyes.
"Both of you are so kind," I managed, sliding into the car because refusing felt impossible now.
"But I truly appreciate your concern more than you know. My project deadline is extremely tight, and I still have so much work to finish tonight. I really can’t spare the time for dinner."
I hated disappointing them, but the quarterly assessment was looming and I couldn’t afford any delays.
"We thought you might say that," Mrs. Moore said with a knowing smile. She gestured to her assistant in the back seat, who produced several elegant sandalwood boxes—seven tiers stacked carefully.
"We had everything specially prepared from a Michelin restaurant," Mr. Moore explained.
"The chef made it fresh just an hour ago. We knew you were busy, so we brought dinner to you instead."
His expression turned slightly apologetic. "Though I’m afraid it’s probably gone cold by now."
"Mrs. Moore..." I couldn’t finish the sentence.
My throat had closed up entirely. These two elderly people—strangers, essentially—had gone to such extraordinary lengths for me.
Had thought of my comfort, my schedule, my needs with a care I’d never experienced.
Not from my biological mother who’d abandoned me.
Not from Margaret Holt who’d made clear I was only tolerated because of my usefulness.
Not even from Ethan, who’d kept me at arm’s length for two years while pretending I meant something to him.
This was what it felt like to be cared for. To be considered. To matter to someone.
"We can’t have you eating cold food," Mr. Moore said quickly, misreading my silence. "Let me have my assistant order something fresh—"
"No, that will take too long." Mrs. Moore cut in, her brow furrowed in thought. "Perhaps you could take it to your office and reheat it there? We won’t disturb your work any further—"
"Wait." I heard myself speak before I’d fully formed the thought. "Have both of you eaten yet?"
They exchanged a glance.
"Well, no," Mrs. Moore admitted. "But we’re fine. You’re the one who needs proper nutrition for all that work—"
"This is enough food for three people," I pointed out, making a decision that felt both impulsive and absolutely right.
"My apartment isn’t far from here. Why don’t we take everything there to reheat it properly, and we can eat together?"
I paused, then added more softly, "If you’d like to stay for a while after, you’re more than welcome. I can work from home tonight, and we could talk. I’d... I’d really enjoy the company."
I could see it written all over their faces—they’d wanted nothing more than to spend time with me today.
They’d mentioned an eight-hour flight, which meant their home was nowhere near here.
And something about their eagerness, the way they looked at me with such naked affection, made me think they were lonely.
Maybe they’d lost someone. Maybe their granddaughter-in-law lived far away and they didn’t get to see her often.
Whatever the reason, I felt honored that they’d taken such a liking to me.
And honestly? After years of feeling invisible in the Holt household, of being treated like an inconvenient obligation, the warmth of their attention was like sunlight after a long winter.
I gave the driver my address before either of them could protest.
The moment the words left my mouth, both elderly faces transformed.
Mrs. Moore’s eyes actually welled up slightly, and Mr. Moore looked as though I’d offered him something infinitely precious.
"We would be delighted," he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Mrs. Moore just squeezed my hand, seemingly unable to speak.
As the car pulled away from V&A Group, I found myself genuinely smiling for the first time in weeks.
Maybe it was foolish to invite near-strangers into my home. Maybe I should be more cautious, more guarded.
But I was so tired of being alone. So tired of having no one who genuinely cared whether I ate or slept or worked myself into exhaustion.
For tonight, at least, I’d let myself pretend I had family.
---
Damian’s POV
The call came through at exactly 9:47 PM.
I was already grabbing my car keys, preparing to leave and pick up Aria from work, when Rick’s name flashed across my phone screen.
"Report." My voice came out rougher than intended.
"Alpha..." Rick’s tone was carefully neutral, which immediately put me on edge. "Your parents are currently at Miss Smith’s residence."
I went very still. "Repeat that."
"Alpha King Andrew and Luna Queen Elena are inside Miss Smith’s apartment. They arrived approximately twenty minutes ago with what appears to be dinner from Maison Lumière."
Of all the things I’d expected to hear, this wasn’t even on the list.
"How the hell did they—" I cut myself off, jaw clenching so hard my teeth ached. "They’re supposed to be in the Blackwood Pack territory. What are they doing in the city?"
"According to the intel I gathered, they flew in this morning. Eight hours. They went directly to V&A Group, requested a private meeting with Miss Smith, took her shopping at Laurent & Daughters—"
"They took her where?" The words came out as a growl.
Laurent & Daughters was the most exclusive bridal boutique in the entire northeastern region.
Appointments required six months’ advance notice. The starting price for their simplest gown was fifty thousand dollars.
Rick cleared his throat. "Yes, Alpha. The bridal boutique. They had Miss Smith try on multiple gowns. Wedding gowns, specifically. "
"The staff reported that your mother was... extremely pleased with how Miss Smith looked in them."
My wolf surged forward, and it took every ounce of control not to let him break through. *Our mate. In a wedding dress. With our parents.*
*Without us.*
"They purchased six gowns and matching jewelry," Rick continued.
"Total cost approximately four hundred thousand dollars. All of it is being altered to Miss Smith’s measurements and will be delivered to her residence within the week."
I didn’t trust myself to speak for a long moment.
Jesus Christ. Aria hadn’t even accepted me yet, and my parents were already this eager to meet their future daughter-in-law?
Wait.
No.
They wouldn’t—
*Fuck.*
I needed to call Aria. Right now. Before this spiraled completely out of control.
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