Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations

Chapter 248

At that moment The tension among the York family rippled like a taut wire ready to snap.

Immediately Serenity's uncle leaned forward, his tone sharp as he addressed the group, "So, we all thought Ethan was the one behind solving our financial issues, didn't we? If it weren't for that assumption, would he even be here right now? Well, thank goodness Mr. Brown stepped in to tell us the truth."

At that moment Several family members nodded in agreement, murmuring their support. "Exactly," one of the aunts added, folding her arms. "It's important to give credit where it's due. We've been misled."

The air grew heavy with their accusations.

However Ethan remained composed, his expression unreadable, though his sharp gaze flicked momentarily to Mr. Brown, who sat basking in the attention, his smile smug.

Before the discussion could escalate further, Old Master York slammed his hand lightly on the armrest of his chair. The sound wasn't loud, but it commanded attention.

Immediately the room fell silent as his piercing eyes surveyed the family members.

"That is enough," Old Master York said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

"We invited Ethan here because he saved my son's life, not because of any financial matters. His presence is not a debt to be repaid but a gratitude to be shown."

The old man's words hung in the air, silencing the murmurs and causing a few family members to exchange sheepish glances.

However Mr. Brown, who had been riding the wave of praise, suddenly seemed smaller in his chair.

"And let's not forget," Serenity father added, his gaze narrowing, "Ethan never claimed he was the one who solved the financial issues. Not once. This narrative is something you all created." He paused and turned his sharp eyes toward Serenity, who straightened in her seat under his scrutiny.

"Serenity," he said with a tone that was both stern and questioning, "wasn't it you who informed me about what happened?"

Hearing her father words.

Serenity swallowed hard, her usually confident demeanor faltering. She glanced at Ethan, who remained calm, then nodded. "Yes, father," she admitted softly.

At that moment a small smile of relief broke across Serenity's face. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

As Ethan stepped into the upgraded room with the York family, he was keenly aware of the eyes on him. The polished interiors gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, and the muted hum of wealthy diners filled the air.

As they approached the front desk, the receptionist's face lit up upon spotting Ethan. Her posture stiffened, and she instinctively began to offer a respectful bow, but Ethan caught her gaze and gave her a subtle shake of his head.

The message on his gaze was clear: "not now."

She quickly composed herself, masking her recognition, and resumed her professional demeanor as she guided them toward the private dining section.

The York family walked ahead, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange. Ethan followed behind, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his sharp eyes scanning the restaurant's layout. He wasn't here to make a scene—not yet, at least.

Once inside, the York family requested a private box.

The maître d' led them to an exclusive room, adorned with dark oak panels, plush chairs, and an ornate dining table that could easily accommodate ten. The atmosphere screamed exclusivity, with soundproof walls ensuring absolute privacy.

Immediately Serenity's father and uncles exchanged approving nods, clearly accustomed to such grandeur.

As they settled into their seats, menus were handed out, and polite chatter filled the room. Serenity, sitting opposite Ethan, offered him an encouraging smile. Ethan, however, remained quiet, scanning the menu with disinterest.

He wasn't here for the food.

The conversation turned to Mr. Brown as Serenity's uncle asked, "So, Mr. Brown, what will you have? This restaurant boasts an exquisite selection."

However Mr. Brown, basking in the attention, leaned back in his chair with a smug grin.

"Ah, let's see... perhaps a bottle of their finest wine to start. And maybe—"

Before he could finish, the door swung open, the polished hinges creaking ever so slightly.

Immediately all heads turned as the manager entered, flanked by two waitresses.