THE FORGOTTEN WILSON

Chapter 5: Royalty is Meant for Royalty

Sophia sat in front of her vanity mirror early the next morning, staring blankly at her reflection. She felt incredibly lazy, a heavy, dull ache settling in her stomach. She was physically unwell, but she knew it wasn't a cold. It was the crushing, suffocating weight of the name *Wilson*—the most powerful family in the entire city.

As she stared at herself, dark, creeping thoughts began to cloud her mind. *Is my father really doing what's best for me? Or am I just his ticket into a bigger playground?*

The door clicked open, and Vivian quietly stepped into the room, breaking the silence.

"Mom! Good morning," Sophia greeted, trying to force a bit of life into her voice.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Vivian replied softly. In her hands, she carried a breathtaking, custom-tailored crimson gown. The fabric caught the morning light like wine. It had been commissioned specifically for Sophia, and it screamed luxury.

Sophia eyed the dress, a dry smile touching her lips. "I hope that's not for me."

"I am afraid so," Vivian said with a gentle, sympathetic chuckle. She walked over, placing the gown on the lounge chair before standing behind her daughter, gently massaging Sophia's tense shoulders.

"We’re just going to the Wilsons' house for dinner," Sophia joked weakly, trying to mask her anxiety. "What's the big deal? It’s not like today is my wedding."

"Well, your father certainly doesn't see it that way," Vivian explained, her thumbs rubbing circles into Sophia's shoulder blades. "He decided to handle everything at the office by himself today. In fact, he explicitly asked me to tell you that he’s given you the day off."

Sophia fell completely silent. The warmth left her eyes. "It’s funny... it’s weird how he only ever pays attention to me on occasions like this."

Vivian stopped moving. She looked at her daughter in the mirror, her heart aching. She didn't even bother trying to defend Harry this time, nor did she repeat the tired lie that he was doing it out of love. She just hoped, desperately, that time would eventually heal the rift between them.

Sensing the heavy mood, Vivian tried to brighten the air. "Oh, and he also mentioned a makeup artist will be stopping by later this afternoon."

"A makeup artist?" Sophia gasped, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. Her father really was treating this like a royal transaction.

The moment Vivian stepped out and closed the door, the heavy silence returned.

Sophia picked up her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen as she messaged Kate, her top secretary. *“My dad is on his way to the office. Make sure everyone is completely on top of their game today. You know how he gets when he’s stressed—I don't want anyone losing their jobs today.”*

She clicked the back button. Her thumb hovered over her recent logs, her eyes locking onto a single name: *Benjamin*.

She stared at his contact info for a long, quiet moment, remembering the peaceful, easygoing way he laughed, and how his simple presence made the world feel normal. Sophia let out a quiet sigh, pulling her hand back, and tossed the phone onto the bed. She couldn't drag him into this mess.

..............................................

Across the upper district, inside the grand estate, Alexander was sprawled on a plush leather sofa, lazily scrolling through his phone.

The heavy oak doors of his suite swung open, and Butler James stepped inside with a rigid, formal bow. "Young Master Alexander, Old Master Wilson demands your presence in the study immediately."

Alexander’s throat tightened. He hadn't seen or heard from his grandfather since the old man had brutally frozen his accounts and left him out to dry. Hurrying down the marble corridors, he soon stood before the desk of Old Master Wilson.

The old man didn't look up immediately. The silence in the room stretched until Alexander’s palms began to sweat.

"Butler James said you requested my presence, Grandfather," Alexander finally said, his usual arrogant posture completely melting into submission.

"Yes," Old Master Wilson announced, his sharp, calculating eyes finally rising to meet his grandson's. "The Whitmores are coming over to our estate tonight."

*The Whitmores?* Alexander thought, a flash of annoyance crossing his mind. *Who the hell are they?* But after his grandfather’s terrifying outrage the last time, he didn't dare voice his ignorance aloud. He kept his mouth shut.

"If you want your black cards unfrozen, tonight is your only chance," the Old Master said, his voice dropping into a harsh, warning register. "I need you to be on your absolute best behavior. This isn't a casual dinner; it is a strategic marriage alliance. Very soon, you will be joining Peter at the headquarters. You will have to completely break his performance records and overtake him if you ever want to be named CEO. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Alexander replied, a wave of profound relief washing over his chest.

A smug, greedy smile threatened to break across his face. Over the years, the Old Master had constantly pushed him away, claiming he wasn't mature or ready to handle the empire. Now, it was finally official—the crown was within his reach. As for the daughter of the Whitmore family? He didn't care who she was. Once the entire Wilson wealth and properties were legally transferred into his name, he could have any woman on the continent he desired.

Besides, looking at the frail old man behind the desk, Alexander calculated inwardly that the Old Master had, at most, five years left to live. It was a small price to pay.

....................................

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep bruises of purple and gold, by the time the Whitmores' luxury sedan rolled through the towering, wrought-iron gates of the Wilson Estate.

It was a truly breathtaking sight.

Even Sophia, who had grown up surrounded by extreme wealth, found herself completely drawn in. The estate didn't just look expensive; it looked like an ancient, untouchable paradise hidden away from the chaotic city. The driveway carved through acres of perfectly manicured white rose gardens, illuminated by glowing, subterranean lights. Massive, multi-tiered marble fountains shot crystal-clear water into the air, dancing in perfect rhythm under the moonlight. But what truly swept Sophia off her feet was the sheer architectural dominance—the name **WILSON** was beautifully, flawlessly carved into the towering stone arches and grand perimeter walls, glowing with a soft, regal golden backlighting. It felt less like a residential home and more like entering the fortress of an empire.

As the Whitmores were escorted into the grand foyer, Alexander descended the sweeping imperial staircase. He was dressed meticulously in a sharp, wine-colored tailored suit jacket and sleek black trousers, his hair pushed back.

But the moment his eyes landed on Sophia, his breath completely caught in his throat.

The crimson gown hugged her frame flawlessly, her hair falling in elegant waves around her sharp, striking face. Alexander had spent his entire life surrounded by supermodels and socialites, but Sophia Whitmore was, without a doubt, the most captivatingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. A predatory, possessive thrill shot through his veins.

The dinner was served in the grand banquet hall, but the atmosphere was thick with corporate tension. Over the clinking of silver and crystal, Old Master Wilson was the first to break the silence.

"I am sure you must think that I called for this sudden meeting merely to discuss logistics and business deals," Old Master Wilson began, his voice slow, gravelly, and commanding absolute authority. "But I assure you all, it is much more profound than that."

The table grew deathly quiet.

"Your daughter, Sophia Whitmore, has grown into a remarkably fine, hardworking young woman," the Old Master continued, his eyes shifting toward Harry Whitmore. "And I must say, Mr. Whitmore, I highly commend you for a job well done. In a ruthless society such as ours, who could have imagined that a young woman could achieve so much in the boardroom? Indeed, she is a shining role model to any young woman who wishes to venture into the world of high business. On that exact note..."

The old man paused, his eyes locking directly onto Sophia. "...I would like her to be married to my only grandson, Alexander. The sole heir to the Wilson Estate, our legacy, and every business under our umbrella."

Harry Whitmore’s heart practically soared. He was utterly overjoyed. It felt as if every single sacrifice, every cold corporate calculation, and all his ruthless parenting were finally paying off in the ultimate jackpot.

"I would say there is absolutely nothing to hesitate about here," Harry broke out with a wide, ecstatic smile, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "They are both of perfect age, and both of our families are thriving. What is there to wait for? After all... royalty is always meant for royalty."

Sitting across from him, Sophia felt a sickening wave of irritation clawing underneath her skin. There he was—typical Harry Whitmore. As sweet-mouthed and transactional as ever, trading her off like a prize horse.

Old Master Wilson gave a subtle nod toward his grandson.

Receiving the signal, Alexander straightened his posture, flashing his most charming, confident smile toward Sophia. "I can assure you from my side, Grandfather, it is a hundred percent yes."

Old Master Wilson smiled faintly, his sharp, ancient eyes turning slowly toward the silent young woman in the crimson dress.

"Excellent," the Old Master murmured. "Then I think it is now time to hear from the young lady herself."

In an instant, the entire room went freezing cold. Every single eye at the massive table locked firmly onto Sophia, tracking the slight rise and fall of her chest, waiting in absolute, breathless silence for her response.