Olivia sat on the wide windowsill of their high-rise condo, staring out at the city skyline where the evening breeze ruffled the trees in the park below. Her mind was a whirlwind of wedding checklists and seating charts, but in the back of her mind, a shadow from her past lingered—a memory she couldn’t quite shake.
David stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Olivia,” he said softly, his voice steady and persuasive. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should send an invitation to your mother? A wedding is a milestone, a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It might be the right time to bury the hatchet.”
Olivia stiffened for a second, then leaned back against him, her voice firm. “No, David. I don’t want her there. I’m not going to force a relationship that only brings me grief.”
David didn’t let it go. He was a man who believed in family values and second chances. “Olivia, she’s your only mother. You’re her only child. Isn’t it time to let go of whatever happened? It feels like pride is getting in the way of something important.”
She let out a sharp, weary sigh. “David, I love you more than anything, but please stay out of this. None of my relatives are coming. They don’t belong at this celebration, and they haven’t earned the right to be here.”
Her coldness caught him off guard. He felt a flicker of unease, a sense that his fiancée was harboring a secret far darker than a simple family spat. He decided to drop it for the night, not wanting to sour the mood weeks before the big day.
They had met at a crowded rooftop mixer while Olivia was finishing her senior year at the state university. David, a few years older and already stepping into a leadership role at his father’s commercial real estate firm, had been instantly drawn to her. She was sharp, witty, and seemed refreshingly grounded compared to the socialites he usually encountered.
David had grown up in a world of privilege. His family was well-known in the Midwest business circles, and that reputation often preceded him. He was tall, athletic, and successful, but his dating life had been a series of disappointments. He’d lost count of the women who seemed more interested in his last name and his father’s portfolio than in him.
The pattern was always the same: things would start well, but as soon as they realized the extent of his family’s wealth, the “wish lists” would start. It was always about the designer bags, the trips to St. Barts, or the latest tech. He felt like a walking ATM, and it had made him cynical.
He wanted something real. He wanted someone who valued hard work and genuine connection. He was tired of the transactional nature of his social circle. He could afford the luxuries, sure, but he hated the expectation that he *had* to provide them just to keep a woman’s interest.
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