Natalie had knocked over her wineglass.

Ryan’s mouth hung open.

My mother had turned completely pale.

Because Julian Mercer wasn’t merely rich.

He was the billionaire CEO of Mercer Holdings, owner of several luxury hotel and real-estate brands.

More importantly, he was the man my father had spent six months begging to invest in Bennett Development Group.

My father slowly rose.

“Claire,” Thomas stammered.

“You… know Mr. Mercer?”

Julian never released my hand.

His gaze shifted from my father to the stained apron around my waist.

Something hardened in his expression.

“She is my fiancée,” he said.

The words exploded through the room.

“And I would very much like to know why my future wife is serving Thanksgiving dinner instead of sitting down to eat it.”

Nobody spoke.

Margaret recovered first.

She gave a nervous laugh.

“Oh, Julian, surely there’s been some misunderstanding.

Claire likes helping.

She’s always been more comfortable in the kitchen.”

She reached toward my arm.

Julian caught her wrist before she could touch me.

“Do not touch her.”

His voice stayed quiet.

Somehow, that made it worse.