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“How do you feel about seeing them?” Jacob said after a whole minute had passed, with me only able to stare at him.

I chewed my lip in thought. I didn’t know how I felt. For so long, I’d been mad at them for using me to pay off their debt, but somewhere along the way, that anger had faded into indifference. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if they ever thought about me or if they regretted their actions.

“Have they ever reached out to ask about me?”

Jacob hesitated for several seconds before he blew out a heavy breath. “No, angel. They haven’t. I’m sorry.”

I knew the answer before Jacob even opened his mouth, but for some reason, I needed to hear him say it. Instead of the hurt I thought I would feel, numbness took its place. I was nothing but a commodity to the people who raised me, yet standing in front of me was a man who gave me his undivided attention.

“I’m not sorry,” I replied, giving Jacob a soft smile. “They showed me who they truly are when they used me to pay off their debt. I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing them.”

“You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

I scoffed. “I can hardly ignore them.”

With the hand that wasn’t tangled with mine, he reached up to stroke his thumb along my glossed lip. “Or you can let me do the talking,” he said softly before sucking his thumb into his mouth. “I’ll make it very clear to them that they don’t deserve to be in your life any longer. If that’s what you want, of course.”

The images of my parents flashed into my mind; my mother dressed from head to toe in designer clothes and expensive jewelry, and my father stuttering and cowering as he tried to stand up to her. They weren’t people I needed or wanted in my life.

“That’s what I want.”

Mrs. Du Pont scowled at me like I was a piece of trash dragged in off the street, something Jacob had noticed if his clenched jaw was anything to go by. She was older than my mother by at least twenty years, putting her somewhere near seventy.

She reminded me of a woman from the Victorian era; her graying hair scraped into a tight bun on top of her head, her lips pulled into a thin line, and her corset dress pulled so tight to cinch her waist that it was a miracle she was able to breathe.

“I have to say, Jacob, this was all rather unexpected,” Mr. Du Pont said, shaking his son’s hand, his features also set in displeasure.

If Mrs. Du Pont was from the Victorian era, her husband was the opposite. Despite his salt-and-pepper beard and age lines etched into his face, it was impossible to guess his age, likely because of the way his tuxedo stretched around an athletic body.

“Yes, well, when you meet the one you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, why wait?” Jacob replied, his tone cool, but when he lowered his gaze to me, his lips lifted into his customary warm smile, and I couldn’t help but return it.

From the minute we walked into the enormous mansion and were guided to the ballroom by a waiter, Jacob had clutched my hand in his, whispering words of reassurance after I’d confessed on the way here how nervous I was.

I’d decided to put the events of recent days to the back of my mind for the night. As he had promised, Jacob had reserved a room at a hotel for me to stay in when we left the party; I would have plenty of time to think about our future when I was alone.

For now, I wore the fake smile I was used to wearing whenever my parents made me attend events such as this, where the richest members of society gathered to show off their wealth. The difference was, though, it wasn’t as hard to fake the smile with Jacob by my side.

“Hmm,” Mr. Du Pont replied, his gaze dropping to mine before moving back to Jacob. “Be that as it may, I would have expected you to have chosen someone of a higher caliber. The Astors aren’t exactly regarded in our circle. I thought you knew that after the loan debacle.”

It took every effort to keep my reaction from showing on my face, not just at his insult, but at learning what he—and apparently, others—thought about my parents.

A low rumble vibrated in Jacob’s chest as he dropped his father’s hand and pulled me into his side. “I’ll ask you to refrain from insulting my wife again, Father. Besides, Charlotte is no longer an Astor, and I assure you, she is nothing like her gold-digging mother or her cowardly father.”

Gratitude streaked through me at Jacob coming to my defense, and I leaned in closer to his embrace as a way of showing it.

“Have you said hello to your parents yet, dear?” Mrs. Du Pont said, noting the glares her husband and son were exchanging, and directing her question at me. “They are dying to see you. Your mother mentioned she had something to discuss with you.”

“Oh, not yet, Mrs. Du Pont,” I replied, trying not to wither under her hateful stare.

“And she won’t be either,” Jacob interrupted. “Charlotte wishes to have nothing more to do with her family. I wish you had informed me of your intention to invite them before you did; it would have saved them a wasted journey coming here.”

“Nonsense. The girl-” Mr. Du Pont started.

“Charlotte. Not ‘the girl’; my wife’s name is Charlotte,” Jacob hissed, his body tensing.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Jacob; this exchange had so far been brief, yet it was clear how much he hated his parents. Not that I could blame him; the lack of respect they were showing him was disgraceful.

“Charlotte Du Pont,” a deep voice said from behind. “That’s got a ring to it.”