"I never asked for this!"

"Well you don't have a choice!"

"Why not? I'm fucking eighteen I can do what I want!"

"NO! Not as long as you live under my roof!"

"But Mom-"

"Veneer, you're the oldest which means the company is going to be left to you when me and your father retire. Which is soon."

"But-"

"The decision is final! You will be married by the end of the year."

She turned swiftly and slammed the door behind her.

Dear lord . . . what do I do?