Dinner with my family was never something I looked forward to, especially in my adult years, and even worse now that I had reportedly bagged myself a future husband like Maximillian Ford.
It was the only thing anyone could talk about. No one asked me how I felt, whether Max was treating me well, or whether I was happy. They didn’t even bother to ask if I liked the guy. As long as I was able to bag a Ford, my father was pleased, and my mother was over the moon.
When we walked in earlier, I thought we had walked into a banquet hall for the arrival of the governor. The entire house had been redecorated, and I almost didn’t recognize my own home.
My mother, Cecilia Whitmore, had always had a knack for the finer things in life, namely diamonds, designer bags and shoes, limited-edition dresse
