His home, more a small manor than a villa, stood in stark contrast to Matthew's more modest abode.

Gazing at the grandeur, Helga and Matthew couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.

As Matthew's car approached, a security guard halted them. “Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Matthew. I'm here to see Uncle Waylon," Matthew replied, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"I'll need to check," the guard said, his tone strictly professional.

Matthew felt a touch of embarrassment. He and Waylon had planned this meal, yet the guard seemed unaware, leaving them to wait in the cold.

It seemed Waylon hadn't taken the trouble to inform his security.

After a brief call, the guard opened the gate, allowing them entry.

They parked at the villa's entrance, and Matthew, carrying a gift, led the way in.

The villa buzzed with chatter and laughter, but as they entered, the room quieted, eyes turning toward them.

Dressed in his finest, Matthew still felt a sense of inferiority amidst the villa's opulence. He approached Waylon, a forced smile on his face. "Uncle Waylon, it's good to see you."

Only slightly younger than Lilah's grandfather, Waylon exuded dignity in his suit. "There's no need to bring a gift. Just put it over there," he said, gesturing vaguely.

Matthew placed the gift on the tea table.

Marlene, glancing at him, couldn't resist a chuckle. “Uncle Matthew, you really don't need to bring anything next time. We're swamped with art here; there's hardly room for your gift."

Matthew's eyes scanned the walls, adorned with masterful paintings.

Though embarrassed, he said politely, “I remember Uncle Waylon enjoys arts. I should bring a painting next time."

Marlene's eyes held undisguised contempt. “Our collection starts at five million dollars. Given your means, you'd struggle with a half-million-dollar piece. Especially now that Lilah's not supporting you."

Her jibe at Lilah was unmistakable.

Lilah, who had been quietly admiring the artwork, spoke up. “Yes, but we wouldn't spend half a million on fake paintings."

Her comment silenced the room.

Accusing Waylon's collection of being fake was bold, indeed.

Waylon, who had always regarded Matthew with disdain, turned his gaze to Lilah. His look was as icy as that of his son.

Taken aback, Matthew wondered how Waylon could have been deceived into buying fake paintings.

Marlene bristled. "What nonsense are you taking about, Lilah?"