And I was the heir.

The only son of a self-made billionaire, groomed to take the reins of an empire.

Except, I had one fatal flaw: I liked to live.

Parties that started on a Thursday and ended two cities away. Weekends in Monaco because I felt like it. No apologies, no regrets. It made my parents insane. My father, a man who clawed his way out of poverty and built a legacy brick by brick, didn’t understand my carefree attitude. My mother, raised to value appearances over emotions, didn’t hide her disappointment either.

Still, they tolerated me. They expected that, eventually, I’d grow up. Become serious. Respectable.

Then came the dinner that changed everything.