Chapter 4The Passenger Seat Principle

I ended up picking a white SUV, right around the $40,000 mark. Tiffany rolled her eyes the whole time, but seeing my parents' stone-cold faces, she kept her mouth shut.

Afterward, my parents took us to a nice steakhouse for lunch.

While we were eating, the topic of real estate came up.

Mom swirled her wine and joked, "Liam can buy a house wherever he wants, but Maya has to buy a condo in our neighborhood. I don't want some punk stealing my flower pot without me knowing."

I opened my mouth to tell Mom to stop treating me like a kid.

Suddenly, Tiffany shrieked. "Liam! Is your mother insane? First the car, now a house? Homes in your neighborhood are like, two million dollars! Why does she get one?"

People at nearby tables turned to stare.

Mom’s face, which had just relaxed, turned to stone.

Dad tried to save the mood. He cleared his throat and asked Liam, "So, son, when do you two plan on getting married?"

Liam started to speak, but Tiffany slammed her fork onto her porcelain plate. Clang!

"Marry? With what money? Your daughter is draining the family accounts dry!"

Mom ignored her, cutting her steak with surgical precision. Dad paused, then said, "We aren't billionaires, but we have enough set aside for Liam’s wedding."

Tiffany sneered. "Is that so? Well, here are my conditions. First, we need a five-bedroom house in the hills. Only my name on the deed. Second, a cash wedding gift of $100,000. Finally, my parents raised me well, so you need to buy them a condo too. Nothing fancy, maybe 2000 square feet."

Dad’s face went pale.

Mom put down her knife and fork. Her voice was flat. "Okay."

Dad looked at Mom, shocked.

Tiffany froze, then a greedy smile spread across her face.

"However," Mom continued, "Since we are providing all of that, what are you bringing to the marriage? What is your dowry?"

Tiffany’s face twisted. She stammered, "My... my mother said she would give us ten handmade quilts. They are made from organic cotton grown on my grandfather’s farm. You can’t buy that kind of quality."

She looked proud, as if these blankets were rare artifacts. But I could see the hesitation in her eyes.

Mom actually laughed. "Ten quilts? We are putting up millions of dollars, and you’re offering bedding? Is this a stand-up comedy routine?"

Tiffany’s eyes turned red again. She looked at Liam, tears flowing. "Liam! Your mother is mocking my family! Is she saying we’re poor?"

Liam had his head in his hands. "No, Tiff, she’s not... let’s just eat. We can talk about marriage later."

Tiffany opened her mouth to scream, but Mom cut in, her voice lethal.

"There will be no 'later.' Liam, I am warning you. If you marry this woman, you will not see a single penny from us. Not for the wedding, not for a house, not for anything."

Mom stood up, grabbing her purse. "Let’s go, Maya, Dave. I’ve lost my appetite."

Tiffany sat there, mouth open, watching us walk away.