The Invitation Meant To Humiliate Her
Julian Prescott had been raised to believe that a man with his last name did not make mistakes.
His mother, Vivian Prescott, made sure he understood that before he was old enough to question it.
The Prescotts owned luxury hotels along the Carolina coast, private real estate holdings in Charleston, and enough old family connections to make people lower their voices when they entered the room.
In Vivian’s world, love was pleasant, but legacy was everything.
So when Julian fell in love with Clara Bellamy, Vivian smiled politely.
But her eyes turned cold.
Clara was not from one of Charleston’s old families.
She had no trust fund, no family estate, no famous last name attached to hers.
She had grown up in a modest neighborhood outside Columbia, raised by a retired mechanic father and a mother who taught elementary school for thirty years.
Clara studied education and worked evenings tutoring children who needed extra help.
Her dream was simple but powerful.
She wanted to open a learning center for adults who had never finished school.
Julian met her in a college library during his senior year.
He had been staring at the same business law page for nearly an hour when Clara sat across from him and smiled.
“You’re looking at that book like it personally offended you.”
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