Building a Conglomerate in Another World

Chapter 36: Something Feels Off

The dining table was a lavish display of culinary expertise. The manservants, dressed in their crisp uniforms, had meticulously prepared a feast worthy of the Fitzwilliam family’s status.

Dishes were served on silver platters, there was roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs, a platter of buttered asparagus spears, creamy mashed potatoes drizzled with rich gravy, and freshly baked bread that filled the room with its warm scent. In the center of the table, a tureen of velvety pumpkin soup steamed invitingly. For dessert, delicate pastries and fruit tarts awaited, their golden crusts glistening with sugar.

Matthew Hesh and Charles Fitzwilliam sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, and Matthew scanned the dishes before him. Just like in his previous world, the display of food doesn’t seem to change when you are born in a privileged status. It looked good but what about the taste?

Picking up his silverware, Matthew took a bite of the roasted pheasant. The flavors were rich, the meat tender and succulent, yet his thoughts were elsewhere. His eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair beside Charles. Amber’s absence weighed on him, and finally, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam," Matthew began, lowering his fork. "I couldn’t help but notice... Amber isn’t joining us for dinner tonight. Is she unwell?"

Charles paused, his wine glass halfway to his lips. His sharp eyes flicked over to Matthew, assessing him before he replied.

"Amber is not in a good condition. But tell me, Mr. Hesh, why are you so concerned about my daughter’s whereabouts?" His tone was polite, yet there was an edge to it, a challenge wrapped in civility.

Matthew leaned back in his chair, meeting Charles’s gaze directly.

"I ask because Amber is the reason we’re even sitting at this table tonight, sir," he said evenly. "If she hadn’t introduced me to you, I doubt we’d have signed such a significant contract today. I owe her for that. It seems... strange not to acknowledge the person who brought us together. And saying that she is not in a good condition, is she sick?"

Charles set his wine glass down with a soft clink, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet dining room. For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying Matthew with those sharp, calculating eyes. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening just slightly.

"Amber is... not sick in the physical sense," Charles began, choosing his words carefully. "She’s been in a state of distress lately, ever since... well, let’s just say her spirit has been restless."

Matthew’s brow furrowed in concern. "Restless? Has something happened to her? I would hate to think she’s unwell because of anything I did."

Charles let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "You overestimate your influence, Mr. Hesh," he said with a faint smirk. "No, Amber’s troubles are not of your making. They are... personal. Family matters that I would rather not discuss at the dinner table."

Matthew pressed his lips into a thin line, sensing there was more beneath the surface than Charles was willing to reveal.

Jeffries, a tall, stern man in his mid-forties, gave a quick bow. "Right away, sir."

Matthew stood, inclining his head toward Charles in gratitude. "Thank you again, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I promise I won’t disturb her for long."

Charles merely waved him off, his attention already returning to the papers that had been discreetly brought in by another servant.

With that, Matthew followed Jeffries out of the dining hall. After what felt like an eternity, they reached a heavy oak door at the end of a quiet hallway. Jeffries paused and turned to Matthew.

"Miss Fitzwilliam’s room," the servant announced in a low voice. "Knock lightly. If she chooses not to answer, it would be best to leave her be."

"Understood," Matthew replied, giving the man a nod. "Thank you."

As Jeffries retreated, Matthew took a deep breath, steeling himself. He raised his hand and knocked gently on the door.

For a moment, there was no response, and Matthew’s heart sank. But then, a faint voice came from the other side.

"Who is it?" Amber’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

"It’s Matthew," he called back, leaning closer to the door. "May I come in?"

There was a pause, long enough that Matthew wondered if she would turn him away. But finally, the door creaked open a fraction, revealing Amber’s tired, yet still beautiful, face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her usual vibrancy seemed dulled.

"Matthew," she said softly, stepping back to allow him entry. "I... wasn’t expecting you."

"I just wanted to check on you," Matthew said, his voice gentle as he entered the room. "You were nowhere to be seen so I was worried."

Amber closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from whatever words he might say.