Because I am your wife!

Mr. Anderson turn his back on Marianne. "You..."

"Yes, Father?"

"You'll come too."

"Alright."

Marianne followed her father, Mr. Anderson, down the dimly lit corridor of their large Victorian estate. The air was heavy with tension, and the only sound that echoed through the hallway was the soft shuffle of their footsteps on the ornate carpet. As they reached the end of the corridor, Mr. Anderson paused and turned to face Marianne.

"You're not good for my son, Marianne. How much?" her eyes widened when she heard that coming from him.

"What do you mean, Mr. Anderson?"

"How much do you need to stay away from him?"

Marianne's gaze hardened, and she squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "I can't believe you're asking me to walk away from someone I love. Money can't buy happiness, Mr. Anderson."

Mr. Anderson's expression remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a hint of desperation. "This is about the family legacy, Marianne. Our reputation, our standing in society—it's a