One Night With A Mysterious Billionaire (The Heiress's Revenge)-Chapter 53: family introduction

As shocked and dumbfounded as everyone was at the table, Raymond was having the time of his life. While tension hung thickly in the air and silence pressed down on the long dining table like a physical weight, the corner of his lips curved upward in obvious amusement. The chaos he had just created did not bother him in the slightest, in fact, he seemed to thrive on it.

When he was done admiring his kitten, his slow, unapologetic gaze trailing over her delicate features and the elegant gown that hugged her figure perfectly, he held Lena’s hand and stood up with calculated calmness.

"I want to personally introduce Lena to all of you. That is why I invited her over for dinner—so she could meet the whole family," Raymond said in a clearly sarcastic tone, his voice smooth yet laced with mockery.

A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Lena is my woman," he continued boldly. "And Lena, this is Gerald, Mr. Supposed Father. But I call him Gerald because he does not deserve to be called my father." The insult landed sharply.

"And this is Caleb, my stepbrother. Gerald got him from whoring around. One of his whores gave birth to him."

"Raymond, you have gone too far!" Caleb cut in immediately, his face flushing with anger.

Raymond merely smiled, a slow, infuriating smile,.and ignored him completely.

"This is Cynthia, my fiancée." He gestured lazily in her direction.

Cynthia sat frozen, utterly dumbfounded, her manicured fingers digging into her palm beneath the table.

"And this," Raymond continued, finally softening his tone slightly, "is my grandfather—the only worthy person with the Black name still in existence."

All eyes turned toward the old man at the head of the table.

"Hello, sir," Lena greeted awkwardly, her voice

small but respectful. She was not even sure if that was the appropriate way to greet him. The old man’s face was unreadable, stern, and slightly intimidating. His sharp eyes studied her like he was dissecting her soul.

"Every other person on this table is irrelevant," Raymond concluded coldly.

When he was done with the introduction, he gently sat down, still not letting go of Lena’s hand as though anchoring her beside him.

"You are becoming more and more audacious as the day goes by," Gerald said angrily, his voice echoing slightly in the large dining hall. "Bringing another woman to sit at the same table as us is already audacious enough. But bringing a woman to the same table your fiancée is sitting at is not only rude but disgraceful."

Raymond did not even spare him a glance. Instead, he relaxed into his seat and leaned closer to Lena. They began speaking in hushed tones, behaving as though no one else existed at the

table, blatantly disregarding Gerald.

"Who gave you this gown, kitten?" Raymond asked softly, his eyes roaming over her body and resting possessively on her cleavage.

"I saw it in the closet and can’t remember who bought it, you or me," Lena replied quietly.

"Did you wear it to tease me because I forced you into coming to dinner?" he murmured dangerously close to her ear. "Is that why you wore it, kitten?"

"Does it look inappropriate?" Lena asked, suddenly feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.

"No," he answered without hesitation. "It looks beautiful."

"I was just being bold," she whispered.

"And defiant," he corrected calmly. "Have I ever punished you before?"

Lena shook her head slowly.

"Good. Then prepare for it tonight. You are due for a good punishment," Raymond declared, his tone low and deliberate.

Lena’s face burned red instantly.

"I love your snatched waist. By the way—"

He turned slightly and began pressing his phone, creating a perfect cover for his wandering hand. Subtly, his fingers slid down her waist. He pinched her lightly before taking the liberty of going further, brushing against her exposed thighs.

Lena gasped inwardly, her breath hitching. She looked up in panic and realized that everyone, including his grandfather, was staring at them. Heat pooled in her core, and embarrassment nearly made her choke.

She turned to look at Raymond. He appeared fully focused on his phone, his expression calm and indifferent, as though he was not the one touching her so intimately beneath the table. She wondered how he could possibly act so composed in a situation like this.

"You should eat, dear," he said casually. "The food is about to get cold. Don’t join others in their glaring contest."

Lena nodded quickly. She began picking food from the different plates and placing them carefully on her own plate before forcing herself to eat. She could barely taste anything. The tension at the table was suffocating. She did not know Raymond’s full plan, but she was certain there was a reason he had called her here. So she decided to play along.

At the corner of the table, Cynthia was seething with anger. She had seen everything—the way Raymond leaned in to whisper to that shameless woman, their passionate kiss earlier in front of everyone, and the way his hands rested possessively on Lena’s thighs. Others might not have noticed the subtle movements beneath the table, but she had.

Her stomach clenched violently in rage.

How dare he behave this way in front of her? Was the humiliation of the engagement not enough? Must he completely trample on her dignity?

"Young woman, what is your name?" Raymond’s grandfather suddenly asked, his deep voice cutting through the thick silence and surprising everyone at the table.

All conversations halted immediately.

"My name is Lena. Lena Smith, sir," she replied respectfully.

"Which family are you from?"

"The Smith family, sir. My family is not from Vegas."

"Tell me about yourself."

Gasps echoed softly around the table. Everyone’s mouth seemed to drop open at once.

"Grandpa, how can you ask her to tell you about herself?" Lucas burst out angrily. "The least you could have done is throw her out instead of letting her stay. How can you do this to Cynthia?"

"He is practically insulting his fiancée by bringing another woman to the same table she is sitting at," Caleb added furiously. "It is one thing that he refuses to acknowledge her, but to bring another woman in front of her like this is simply too much."

But Raymond remained calm, his fingers still intertwined with Lena’s, his expression unreadable, almost daring anyone to challenge him further."I never knew you were her spokesman," Raymond said lazily, his lips curving into a mocking smile. "Holding her hands already? Do you plan to caress her next?"

His words dropped like a bomb.

Raymond interjected so suddenly that everyone gasped, including Lena, who almost choked on her food. Beneath the table, his hand moved boldly, sliding down to her folds. The only barrier preventing him from going further was the thin fabric of her pants. His fingers pressed teasingly, deliberately, as though he enjoyed watching her struggle to maintain composure in front of everyone.

"How can your mouth be so foul and disgusting?" Gerald snapped, cutting off Raymond before he could continue further.

Raymond chuckled darkly. "It’s not my fault that my bastard brother and I, both delivered from a whore mother, ended up sharing the same woman." His eyes glinted with something dangerous. "Don’t blame me if I see you holding her and it makes me think it’s probably your turn to have her today. You know she’s easy like that."

The insult was deliberate and cruel.

"Raymond, what kind of statement is that?" Lucas demanded angrily.

"You are not qualified to demand an explanation from me," Raymond replied coldly. "So go to your father. He always has the perfect reasons for all the bad things he does. Ask him. He would explain better to you—probably give you a good reason

why you should be holding your brother’s fiancée’s hand."

The dining hall fell into stunned silence.

Raymond’s grandfather sat quietly at the head of the table, observing everything like a king watching chaos unfold in his court. He did not stop them. Neither did he interfere. Occasionally, he lifted his wine glass and took a slow sip, his aged but sharp eyes never leaving Lena.

After a long moment, he asked Lena the same question again, his tone steady and commanding.

Lena swallowed nervously before responding. She introduced herself properly this time, explaining who she was and what she did. She mentioned her company and her profession.

"I’m an architectural designer," she said carefully. "I studied architecture and structural design at Oakland. I handle most of my projects on my own."

When Mr. Black heard her mention architecture and structural design, a flicker of interest crossed his otherwise stern face.

Soon, Mr. Black and Lena began discussing structures, foundations, city planning, and architectural balance, almost as if they had forgotten the storm brewing around them. He asked her technical questions, about load distribution, aesthetic balance in modern buildings, and sustainability materials.

Lena answered confidently, her nervousness gradually fading as the conversation shifted to something she genuinely loved.