Growing up in a family that was filthy rich made you slightly disconnected from reality as a child, seeing your siblings and cousins just as wrapped up in a money-induced fairytale. But as you got older, you quickly became aware of how privileged and lucky you were, being grateful for everything handed to you on a silver platter. Could you say the same thing for your siblings, cousins, and the rest of your family? Not really. But you didn't care.

And you certainly didn't care when your family boasted about their perfect lives once they started getting married and having kids, quickly realizing that they prioritized money over love. It would always be like that. You never cared because love for you came in the form of a man with pretty blue eyes, a dimpled smile, a soft Dutch accent with a slight lisp, a man with the kindest heart, and a beautiful smile. It was certainly better than seeing all of your cousins and sibling's phony and failing relationships, seeing how miserable and sour they were. Max was a breath of fresh air in the smoky world of cocky and money-hungry people you were used to, the Dutchman working in an engineering office in downtown Monaco, happy with where he was in life with his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, in his small apartment, and you.

The only thing was that Max didn't know just how insanely rich your family was, you included. He was a smart guy, but it was quite amusing he didn't notice when all of your clothes were designer and all your heels were red-bottomed. He wasn't that observant. But you loved him regardless.