My Fiancée’s Dad Called Me “Trash” at Dinner—Then Begged Me Not to Cancel the Merger…
The champagne glass shattered against the marble floor, sending Dom Peragnon across Italian leather shoes worth more than most people’s cars. But I didn’t flinch. I kept my eyes locked on Harold Blackwood as he stood at the head of his mahogany dining table, face flushed with expensive wine and cheaper prejudice.
“My daughter deserves better than trash,” he announced to the room full of his country club friends, business associates, and horrified family members. “Street trash, dressed in a borrowed suit, pretending to belong in our world.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Twenty-three pairs of eyes swiveled between Harold and me, waiting to see if the nobody dating the princess would dare respond to the king.
I carefully folded my napkin, the cloth probably cost more than my first apartment’s monthly rent, and placed it beside my untouched plate of forty-dollar salmon. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. Blackwood,” I said, standing slowly, “and thank you for finally being honest about how you feel.”
Sophia grabbed my hand.
“Adrien, don’t.”
I squeezed her fingers gently, then let go. “It’s fine, love. Your father’s right.
I should know my place.”
The smirk on Harold’s face was worth capturing. That self-satisfied expression of a man who thought he’d won, who believed he’d finally driven away the street rat who dared to touch his precious daughter. If only he knew.
I walked out of that dining room with my head high, past the Monae in the hallway, past the servants who avoided eye contact, past the Bentley in the driveway that Harold had made sure to mention cost more than I’d make in five years. Sophia caught up to me at my car, my sensible Honda that Harold had sneered at when I’d pulled up. “I’m so sorry,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“I had no idea. He—uh—”
I pulled her close, inhaling the scent of her perfume mixed with the salt of her tears. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I’ll talk to him.
Make him apologize.”
“No.” I tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “No more apologizing for him. No more making excuses.
He said what he’s been thinking for the past year. At least now we know where we stand.”
“Adrien, please don’t let him ruin us.”
I kissed her forehead. “He can’t ruin what’s real.
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