Bullied and Dumped, But She Won in the End (Adriana) novel Chapter 61

**When Time Tried to Heal Me But I Refused to Listen by Kael Niro Senn**

**The Family Dinner Test**

Curtis felt a tight knot of anxiety in his stomach at the thought of Adriana facing such humiliation. “You really don’t have to go to this family dinner,” he urged, his voice laced with concern.

“But Mr. Lincoln,” Tom Fuller, their driver, interjected nervously, “if Ms. Xander doesn’t attend, the Lincolns won’t recognize her as your wife.” His eyes darted between Curtis and Adriana, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

After a moment of deliberation, Adriana squared her shoulders and made her decision. She would attend the dinner. After all, she was Curtis’s highly paid wife, and if she couldn’t navigate this social minefield, then perhaps the role of a high-society wife was far too simplistic for her.

“Curtis is back,” someone announced as they approached the Lincoln Estate, where relatives from the sprawling Lincoln clan were already gathering, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. They were eager to scrutinize every detail and make Adriana’s evening as difficult as possible.

As they stepped into the courtyard, the air was thick with the Harborton dialect, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony that left Adriana feeling lost and isolated. Despite her inability to decipher their words, she could sense the undercurrents of ridicule in their laughter, sharp and biting.

Curtis held her hand firmly as they entered the old-fashioned courtyard, leading her toward the main hall.

“Curtis, now that you’re inside, why are you still holding her hand? She has to walk that path herself,” an aunt from the extended family interjected, her tone dismissive as she waved him off, urging him to take his place inside while Adriana ventured in alone.

But Curtis was resolute, ignoring her entirely. He walked straight into the hall, hand in hand with Adriana, a silent act of defiance.

Before their marriage, he had spoken to Harold about Adriana. He knew she was timid, but he believed she could withstand the pressure. Harold had agreed to the union, but now, his behavior suggested a shift. It was clear that someone had been whispering poisonous words into his ear.

Ever since Matthew had publicly declared that Adriana was his mistress, Harold’s perception of her had soured drastically. A man of tradition, Harold could not accept that a woman who had been someone else’s mistress could ever be worthy of respect in his eyes.

Adriana felt the weight of that disdain as she entered the hall. She had suspected this would happen; Matthew’s statement had clearly done its damage.

“Curtis, Jeremy is here too,” Harold announced, gesturing toward Jeremy Barton, Danielle’s grandfather, who sat nearby, his demeanor as imposing as his stature.

Feeling a wave of anxiety wash over her, Adriana instinctively moved closer to Curtis, her gaze cast downward, too intimidated to meet anyone’s eyes. These were the heads of old, powerful families, and she was acutely aware that someone of her status would hardly register on their radar.

“Jeremy, this is my wife, Adriana,” Curtis introduced her with deliberate emphasis, his voice steady yet firm.

Jeremy’s expression darkened slightly as he set down his teacup, his gaze fixing on Adriana with an intensity that made her heart race. She kept her head lowered, but she could feel his scrutiny piercing through her.

He had always held a disdain for Adriana, believing she was unworthy of Curtis, his most promising grandson-in-law. Yet, as he looked at her now, something in his demeanor shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

“Lift your head,” he commanded, his voice hoarse but authoritative.

With a deep breath, she obeyed, meeting his gaze.

Despite his age, Jeremy’s physical presence was still formidable, his frame robust and imposing.

“H-how old are you?” he asked, visibly taken aback, stepping closer as if he needed to scrutinize her further.

“Twenty-three,” Adriana replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

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