"Your mother and I were just saying—when you two get married and have a kid, we'll move in. Help with the baby. It'll be nice, the whole family under one roof—"
"Dad."
The word came out flat. Dead.
"I'm not marrying her."
His smile froze. "What did you say?"
"I want to break up with her."
"Shut up!"
His face twisted, all pretense gone. "You useless thing! Did I raise you for nothing? I was counting on you to marry into wealth so this family could finally *live*. And now you want to break up? On your own initiative?"
My brother jumped in, sneering. "Bro, you think too highly of yourself. She's *Natalie Henson*. Dynasty money. Countless men would kill for a chance, and they don't even get close. You have the golden ticket and you don't know how to cherish it?"
He scoffed. "What, you feel 'wronged'? Suck it up. A rich heiress choosing *you* is a blessing you must've cultivated over eight lifetimes. She picks you—not the other way around. Look at your status compared to hers."