Instead, it made something bitter rise in my throat.
“You arranged my marriage because you wanted to give me a portfolio?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then tell me the real reason.”
My father hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than I expected.
For years after Klaus, everyone in my family had treated me as if I were made of glass.
My mother chose where I stayed.
My father decided which invitations should reach me.
People called it recovery.
Protection.
Privacy.
Sometimes it had felt like love.
Sometimes it had felt exactly like another cage.
My father rested both hands on the table.
“After Klaus, you stopped trusting yourself,” he said.
“And I made the mistake of believing that meant I should make decisions for you.”
I said nothing.
Peter looked between us, clearly uncomfortable with being trapped inside a family truth he had not expected to witness.
My father continued.
“When Strickland’s board approached me about a family alliance, I saw a way to secure your future and separate part of your inheritance from my control.”
“You could have transferred it without marrying me to him.”
“Yes.”
The room became very quiet.
At least he did not lie.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I was still trying to protect you instead of asking what you wanted.”
That admission landed harder than an excuse would have.
Peter folded his arms.
“This family discussion is fascinating, but my company is not a wedding gift.”
I turned toward him.
“No.
Apparently it’s collateral.”
His mouth tightened.
George looked away to hide what might have been a smile.
Peter pointed at the schedule.
“She cannot simply destroy Strickland Industries.”
My father answered calmly.
“No one said she would.”
“But she can accelerate the notes.”
“If the conditions allow it.”
Peter looked down again.
He had finally reached the clause that mattered.
The Müller fund’s debt came with protective covenants.
If Strickland breached certain financial requirements or attempted transactions that impaired the lender’s position, the noteholder could withhold consent, demand corrective action, and under specified circumstances call the debt.
The company was not bankrupt.
But it was leveraged.
Painfully so.
Peter had spent the last year consolidating control while preparing a refinancing that was supposed to close after our wedding.
Stability had been essential.
That was one reason the marriage mattered so much to his board: the alliance with my family reassured the people financing the next stage.
And now the largest private creditor sitting across from Peter was his new wife.
The strange girl.
The woman who might bore him to death.
I almost laughed at the symmetry.
Peter didn’t.
