My mother forced me to cook Thanksgiving dinner while the family partied, until a billionaire walked into the kitchen and kissed my hand in front of everyone.

My mother recoiled as if I had slapped her across the face in front of the two hundred high-society guests watching us from the champagne bar.

"You... you bought our house just to kick us out?!" Margaret gasped, her voice screeching high enough to make several oil barons turn their heads in amusement. "I raised you in that house, Claire! I gave you a roof over your head!"

"You gave me a bed in the attic room and an apron in the kitchen, Margaret," I said, dropping the title of 'Mother' entirely. "You used me as an unpaid maid while you bragged to the country club about Natalie’s diamond bracelets. That house was built on stolen college funds and unpaid contractor bills."

Natalie stepped into my space, her finger pointed inches from my nose. "You think you’re so high and mighty now because you got lucky with a billionaire?! You’re nothing without Julian Mercer’s money, Claire! You’re still the little kitchen servant who scrubbed our floor!"

Before I could answer, Julian stepped smoothly between us.

His towering, broad-shouldered frame completely blocked Natalie from my vision. He looked down at my sister with a look of such absolute, lethal disgust that Natalie instinctively took two panicked steps back, almost tripping over her own dress train.

"Mrs. Vance," Julian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register that carried absolute finality. "Your husband’s firm was officially liquidated four hours ago following a regulatory audit by the Securities and Exchange Commission. By midnight, your credit cards will decline at every hotel in Manhattan."

Natalie’s jaw dropped. "What... what did you say?"

"I said you are broke," Julian replied smoothly. "And if you ever raise your finger at my wife again, I will personally purchase the debt on your children’s private school and have them expelled before sunrise."

My mother let out a strangled, pathetic whimper, clutching Natalie’s arm as the surrounding crowd began to whisper and point at them in open mockery. The very elite socialites my mother had spent thirty years trying to impress were now snickering behind their crystal glasses at her public ruin.

"Security," Julian called out quietly.

Vance and three large security officers stepped forward instantly.

"Escort these two women off the premises," Julian ordered. "Revoke their gala invitations, and add their names to the permanent trespass list for all Mercer properties nationwide."

"Claire! Please!" my mother screamed as the guards firmly grabbed her arms, dragging her back toward the grand exit staircase. "We’re your family! You can't do this to your family!"

I didn't watch them leave. I turned my back on their screaming, taking Julian’s arm, stepping back into the warm, glowing light of the main ballroom.