feel like I had to choose between her and you. I was so afraid of losing her that I let her hurt you."
Evelyn looked down at her son—the boy she had protected, raised, and given every opportunity to succeed.
"You didn't choose her, Brandon," Evelyn said softly, her voice carrying the undeniable weight of truth. "You chose your own vanity. You wanted the giant wedding, the high-society friends, and the illusion of wealth without paying the price for it."
She stood up from her chair, picking up her tea saucer.
"Your father and I built our lives on respect, hard work, and loyalty," Evelyn said, looking out over her garden. "You have three years to pay off that invoice, Brandon. I suggest you use every single day of those three years to learn what those words actually mean."
She turned and walked into the house, the heavy oak patio door clicking shut behind her, leaving Brandon alone on the stone patio under the clear, cold morning sky to face the true cost of his pride.