Oliver tossed a thick envelope onto my coffee table like it was some kind of final warning.
Then he pointed directly at me, with his finger stiff with accusation.
"And once that happens, kiss your dream of marrying into wealth goodbye. Don't come crawling back."
He paused briefly, then added with that same greasy sneer, "And your parents? They've got no pensions. Don't expect me to support them in retirement—"
Before he could finish that charming little threat, one of the bodyguards behind him leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.
"Mr. Jefferson… that vase by the window. Doesn't it look like the final lot from last month's Sotheby's auction?"
Oliver jerked his head around, following the guy's gaze.
The vase sat peacefully by the window, soaking in the late afternoon light. Its silhouette was clean and elegant, the porcelain glowing under the natural sun.
It was a 16th-century Renaissance piece—hand-fired, meticulously preserved, and worth a small fortune.
My dad had caught me admiring it during a collector's showcase and, just for the hell of it, made a sky lantern bid. He won, naturally. The man had flair.
Oliver squinted at it. I saw his face twitch. First came doubt. Then suspicion. Then, predictably, his signature smirk.
"Wow. You really went all in on this little illusion, didn't you? Even copied a fresh-off-the-market auction piece?"
I simply stood there, observing him—this man, five years older than me, who was supposed to be mature and successful. Yet, at that moment, I felt only relief.
Thank God I hadn't yet reached the legal age for marriage. If I had gone along with our families' childhood arrangement, I would already be his wife.
And honestly? That would've been the most humiliating decision of my life. Being married to him—full of surface charm but with a core of selfishness and vanity—was terrible.
With that, I exhaled a long, steady breath and pointed to the door.
"Oliver, I don't blame you for being blind. But if you're just gonna keep embarrassing yourself in my house, I suggest you leave. I'm not here to host your pity party."