“Have I not been a good provider? Have I not given you everything you could want?” “You never gave me what I wanted,” I told him bitterly. “You gave me what you wanted. You gave me a handcrafted Steinway baby grand piano for my twelfth birthday. I don’t even play!” “You could have learned,” he said, the horrible sadness falling off his face as the much more familiar anger pushed its way to the fore. “I will not apologize for being generous. And as to your wants, I have done nothing but cater to them for the last four years. I have let you run positively wild, and you have made an absolute mess
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Nevermind. It's his own projected narcissism.
