They’d given me an ultimatum: get married or kiss my inheritance—and the family business—goodbye. To them, marriage was proof I’d finally “settled down,” a sign I was worthy of the empire they’d spent a lifetime building. To me, it was just another way to control me.

So, I did what any entitled, bitter rich kid would do: I set out to marry someone who would horrify them.

That’s how I found Mary.

She was everything they wouldn’t expect: quiet, modest, and completely unimpressed by my wealth. I met her at a charity event. While everyone else was networking and name-dropping, she was helping the kitchen staff organize dessert trays. A small-town girl with a soft voice and sharp eyes, she seemed perfect for my plan. I proposed—well, I offered a deal—and she surprised me by saying yes.

With one condition: “No questions about my past,” she said, cool but firm. “Just treat me like a girl from a quiet place. That’s all they need to know.”

Sounded good to me. I wasn’t looking for depth. Just a marriage that looked wrong enough to make my parents squirm.

And oh, did it work.

My mother’s forced smile and my father’s barely disguised grimace at our first dinner together? Priceless. They hated everything about her—her clothes,